Free Claustrophobic Christmas by Ellie Marvel

her legs and swung them onto the bench. She had on these white canvas things better suited to summer than winter.
    “I don’t want to get your leather dirty.” She fumbled at knots still crusted with ice and snow.
    “This is hardly what I call dirt.” He nudged her clumsy fingers aside and yanked the laces. She kept interfering, trying to do it herself, and he stilled her hands with his. “I got this. Your hands are too cold.”
    She didn’t listen, of course. In spite of her help, he managed to get the sneakers off with a wet splorch.
    Darcy uttered a long hiss, wiggling her toes. “That smarts.”
    “Your socks are soaked.” He stretched into the back of the cab, clanked around, and came up with a lap blanket. “How about your pants?”
    “Dry,” she said quickly.
    “Liar.” The green fabric displayed more wet spots than dry ones. “Take off your socks and pants and wrap this around you.”
    “I’m fine.”
    James raised an eyebrow. “You too numb to get your pants off, Frankenstein? No problem. I’m here to serve.” He reached for her waist. As expected, she batted him away.
    “Give me the blanket, pervert.” She draped it over her lower half and shucked the ugly sweat pants. “Where should I put these?”
    He draped them across the back seat to dry. Maybe he’d let her put them on after a while. And maybe he’d have her out of her jacket and shirt soon. “Socks.”
    She removed those too, fumbling beneath the blanket’s fuzzy plaid surface, and tossed them onto the floor.
    “Jacket.”
    “It’s not wet.” But she handed it to him anyway and he placed it aside.
    He gestured at her legs, bent at the knees. “Give me your feet.”
    “No.”
    “Let me check them,” he said.
    “They definitely have sensation in them.” She unbent her legs so her feet slid along the seat toward him. “No frostbite.”
    He whipped aside the blanket and switched on the cab lights. Pruney wrinkles marred the bottoms of her feet. Her skin was as pale as milk and her toenails were painted blue, sort of like a corpse. However, there were no signs of frostbite.
    “That’s a weird color for toes. Reminds me of a zombie.” He started chafing her cool, moist skin with the polyester blanket.
    “You’re such a flatterer.”
    “A freshly dead zombie. If it weren’t for your toes, you could pass.” She had pretty feet. Slender and soft. Her toes were straight and her arches were high. He pushed the blanket up to her knees and held her ankles when she tried to shrink beneath it. “Cut it out. I’m warming you up.”
    She stammered something about heater vents as he stroked her silky skin. With what he hoped was a deft touch, he massaged her heels and arches and toes, restoring them to normal body temperature. Next he’d think about how to heat her body up.
    After a particularly solid squeeze of her arch, Darcy let out a breathy moan which she tried to cover with a cough. “Excuse me.”
    James grinned. In that story with the couple who’d fooled around on a camping trip, it had all started with a foot rub. Did she fantasize about foot rubs?
    “Is this good?” he asked.
    “Yes, thanks.” Her voice was half an octave higher than normal.
    “Do you like it better here?” He rubbed the balls of her feet before shifting to the arches. “Or here?”
    “I like both.” She tightened the blanket around her knees.
    He did both for a minute before moving to the heel. She moaned again, a little hmm of pleasure.
    He glanced up and smiled. “What about here?”
    Darcy’s head lolled against the window and her eyelids were heavy. Her lips parted like she was about to invite him to come up and see her some time. “I don’t have frostbite.”
    “I know.” He could barely keep himself from lunging forward and kissing her. Everywhere. That was one thing he’d never done in this truck, but he figured he could manage.
    “You can stop now.” She pushed her wild black hair out of her face, balling it between her