Snow Bound Read Free

chilled by the wet satin.
    Thick lashes swept down over her blue irises. “I need to get dressed.”
    “Dressed . Right.” This time he moved to help her up until he noted the sharp inhale of her breath and the quick shift of her body to the right. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
    Her breath had changed, panting now, light and quiet like a dog at rest. “Just a little sore where I fell, that’s all.” She pulled at the damp material, attempting to cover her newly uncovered possibilities.
    Damon drew in a deep breath, gather ing his professionalism instead of working off the lust sizzling beneath his skin. “We need to get you out of that wet robe. Where’s your bedroom?”
    Her head jerked up so quickly he was surprised she didn’t get whiplash. “My bedroom? Why?”
    “You need some clothes.”
    “I can do it,” she said, pushing up from her seat in an attempt to gain her feet. But he wasn’t letting her get that far.
    “No stairs until I’ve checked you out, okay?” He urged her back down with light pressure on her shoulders. One touch divulged just how bad her trembling was . “Just let me do it.”
    He followed her directions up the stairs and to the left through the open door of a large bedroom, his recovered flashlight leading the way. More candles dotted the surfaces in the room , and the king-size sleigh bed angled from the corner had several layers of covers whipped back, as i f she’d raced from the bed after hearing the noise outside. Which she probably had, considering her attire.
    He bypassed the larger dresser closest to him for the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room where she’d said her sleep shirts were located. As he neared, he caught a glimpse of a dress hanging on the inside of the closet door. His booted feet stopped of their o wn accord, staring at the puffy pink dress with a generous dusting of silver sparkles. The fitted top exploded into layers of filmy material to make up the skirt that would fall right below her calves.
    He knew. He’d seen her in this particular concoction one day when he’d dropped by the bookstore for coffee. She’d been hostessing one of the tea parties she offered for the little girls in the area. With the pink dress and her hair swept up under the cro wn on her head, she’d been the princess in charge and Da mon had immediately dubbed her Miss Priss . He’d thou ght of her that way ever since. He wasn’t into princesses; he’d rather screw the downstairs maid.
    With a quiet chuckle he continued to the chest of drawers and pulled open the top one, intent on finding something, anything , he could cover Tori up with. The less skin, the better. Holding the flashlight up with now gloveless fingers, Damon shone the bright light over the darkened interior of the drawer, only to choke on his own to ngue. Spread out before him was an array of, well, flimsy panties . Not folded neatly in little piles, as he’d have expected from the woman who never had a hair out of place, but jumbled together in a smorgasbord of colors, mostly pastels. That part, at least, he’d gue ssed right. With a stiff finger he dug in and lifted, revealing a handful of tho ng panties . Apparently Miss Priss preferred butt floss. My God, is that what she was wearing now? His cock throbbed as he contemplated the options.
    He flicked the flashlight beam to the p rincess dress, then back to the naughty bits in his hand, then back again, his gaze catalog ing the differences. Dear Lord in heaven, if he had only known she was wearing these under that , he’d have been sporting a very inappropriate crotch display in front o f a bunch of six and seven-year- o ld girls .
    Dropping the panties like the y were booby trap ped , he slammed the drawer shut and moved quickly through the rest until he found a stack of cotton sleep shirts… right next to a teddy that had him biting back a roar of approval. How the hell was he going to face Tori again, keep his gaze trained on her