Page 7 of Safety Hazard

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” he said, his tone making it clear this wasn’t just practical advice. “Hypothermia is a safety hazard, isn’t it, Inspector?”

My mouth went dry. “There’s nothing to change into.”

“I’ve got emergency supplies.” He moved to a cabinet I hadn’t noticed before, pulling out a folded blanket. “Not exactly fashion-forward, but it’s dry.”

I took the blanket, clutching it against my chest. “Turn around,” I instructed, my voice embarrassingly high.

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? After yesterday?”

“Yesterday was…” I struggled to find the right words. “A lapse in judgment. A momentary aberration.”

“Felt like more than a moment to me.” Despite his teasing, he turned his back, giving me at least the illusion of privacy. “Let me know when you’re decent. Or indecent. I’m flexible.”

I quickly stripped off my wet windbreaker, draping it over the back of the desk chair. My shirt followed, the buttons slippery under my damp fingers. I hesitated at my pants, glancing at Shep’s broad back.

He’s being a gentleman. Sort of. The least I can do is be efficient.

I kicked off my shoes and peeled down my soaked khakis, leaving me in nothing but my clinging wet boxer briefs. The cool air raised goosebumps on my skin, making me shiver.

“You’re taking a long time back there,” Shep commented. “Need help with any zippers?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, debating whether to remove my underwear as well. They were soaked through, but the thought of being completely naked was daunting.

Don’t be ridiculous. He’s already seen everything.

Decision made, I pushed down my boxer briefs and kicked them aside, then wrapped the blanket around my shoulders like a cape. “Okay. I’m… covered.”

Shep turned, his eyes immediately taking in my bare legs beneath the blanket. “My turn,” he said, tugging his wet t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

Unlike me, he made no pretense of modesty. He stripped efficiently, peeling his wet jeans down powerful thighs and stepping out of them with casual grace. As I’d discovered yesterday, he wore nothing underneath, leaving him completely, gloriously naked.

Jesus Christ. He’s magnificent.

Water droplets clung to his skin, trailing down the defined planes of his chest and abdomen. His body was a testament to physical power: broad shoulders, thick arms, a tapered waist, and thighs that looked like they could crush a watermelon. Scars marked his skin here and there, telling stories of a life lived dangerously.

And then there was his cock, already half-hard under my gaze, thick and imposing even in its semi-aroused state.

I realized I was staring and quickly averted my eyes, though not before he caught me looking. His chuckle was low and knowing.

“See something you like, Inspector?” he asked, making no move to cover himself.

I clutched the blanket tighter. “There’s only one blanket?”

“Afraid so.” He approached slowly, like a predator stalking prey. “We could share.”

Lightning flashed again, closer this time, followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. The lights in the cabin flickered and went out, leaving us in the dim gray light filtering through rain-streaked windows.

I jumped, instinctively stepping closer to Shep. His arms came around me immediately, warm and secure.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Just the generator. Happens all the time during storms.”

I should have moved away. Instead, I found myself leaning into his warmth, my hands releasing the blanket to press against his chest. His skin was burning hot despite the cool air, as though he had a furnace inside him.

“You’re so warm,” I murmured, mystified.

His hands slid under the blanket to settle on my waist, his touch gentle but possessive. “High metabolism.”

“Impossibly high,” I corrected, looking up at him. In the dim light, his eyes seemed to glow faintly. “Normal human body temperature is 98.6 degrees. You feel like you’re running at least three degrees hotter.”