His throat closed when he recalled Freya gasping and going still, fear passing over her beautiful face as she told him she remembered receiving a figurine at the work party.
“It’s definitely her,” he bit off.
“There’s one more thing. Her cell phone was on the car floor. It was wiped clean and then smashed. Whoever played a role in her ending up in the snow that night didn’t want anyone learning what was on that phone.”
“An email or text or phone call. Tell me the cops are checking the history.”
“They are, but that shit takes time. Hang in there, Hunt. And it sounds like your ward might need more than a rescuer. She might need a bodyguard.”
Chapter Eleven
Freya curled up on the sofa with the blanket pulled up to her chin. She’d managed to keep the fire roaring in the hearth. The sound comforted her like an old friend. She even had the volume down low on the TV, while she tried to fall asleep.
But every little noise outside the cabin had her jumping. A howl of wind through the trees or rattle of the windows. As the glass rattled again, she sat up, pulling the blanket with her, thinking about making some hot cocoa since she’d drunk all the tea.
Nothing was calming her nerves. Nothing would…not until Hunt returned.
She stretched out on the couch again and closed her eyes. What she needed was sleep. In the morning, Hunt might return. She shouldn’t be so absorbed with her own stupid worries—there was a man lost on the mountain right now.
Again, she felt those frigid fingers that clutched at her when she lay in the snow. She concentrated hard on the small bits of memory that had come to her—the Christmas luncheon and the cross-eyed Santa. The sharp pain in her skull and cans rolling on snow-covered pavement.
The visions were so scattered, she couldn’t string them together in a way that made sense. But now she had nothing but time to puzzle it out. Why had there been cans on the ground? Where—
She sucked in a gasp. She must have made a trip to the grocery store after work. While she had no recollection of making the drive there or shopping, what else could that imagery mean?
If she’d gone to the store…that meant she might have run into Colby.
Trying hard to bring more of those memories to mind only left her shaking. She curled her hands and tried to steady her breathing, to fall asleep.
The TV droned on. Logs snapped. The wind howled and the window glass where she’d drawn silly things in the fog—the last one being a heart after Hunt left—shook in the harsh wind.
Bit by bit, she managed to relax and think about Hunt’s arms around her. His lips on hers. His big body anchoring her to the wall, his cock moving inside her.
A creaking noise broke through her sleepy haze, and her eyes popped open to fix on the door as it cracked open. Wind streamed into the room.
Someone was breaking in. Colby!
She ran for a stick of firewood and rushed the intruder with a scream.
The door slammed and the man whirled toward her.
“Freya! It’s me! Stop, it’s me!” Hunt grabbed the wood from her hand before she could bludgeon him over the head with it.
Her knees went weak. “Hunt?” she whispered.
“I never should have left you alone up here. C’mere.” He reached out for her. She hesitated only a heartbeat before throwing herself into his arms.
He squeezed her tight. He was cold from being outside but smelled of pine and the fresh snow only a born-and-bred Alaska girl would know the smell of.
“I’m so sorry I scared you. I was trying to be quiet because I thought you’d be asleep.”
“I almost was…then I heard the door.”
He cupped the back of her head and studied her eyes in the dim room only lit by the glow of the TV and fire. “God, Freya. When you look at me that way…”
A noise broke from her lips. She threw her arms around him, pulled him down and kissed him.
He hitched her against his hard body. The growl rumbling through his chest ignited her need. Angling her head, she parted her lips. He feasted on her. The kiss went from heated to intense to wild, until they were pulling off each other’s clothes.
“Not fair,” she rasped, standing bare and shaking with desire. “You’ve got on so many layers.”
Crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. His smile faded fast, passion taking over his rugged features as he stared at her.
“With the glow of the fire on your naked skin… God, you’re so beautiful.”
Her chest heaved. “With you, I feel beautiful.”
“You are.” He cupped her face and kissed her again, his fingers threading into her hair.
She splayed her hands over his chest, tearing open the buttons of his overshirt, only to reach another layer of cold-weather gear. Frustration came out in a squeak, which only had him chuckling.
“Let me help you.” In a move so manly it had her ovaries exploding, he reached between his shoulder blades and yanked the shirt over his head. He cast it to the floor.
Bare-chested but still wearing boots and more than likely two layers of pants as well, he was the most stunning man she’d ever seen.
She looked him up and down. “Why don’t you join me in the bedroom after you take all that off?” With that, she spun, stepped over the flannel shirt she’d been sleeping in, and headed to the bedroom.
A loud groan followed her in, so she put some extra sway in her hips.
In three steps, he caught her around the waist, whirled her and lifted her into his strong arms. She tossed her head on a laugh as he carried her to bed.
He not-so-gently dropped her to the mattress. She bounced and lay back, eyes on him as he stared down at her with burning need.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I should have been gentler just now.”
Should she tell him she liked how untamed he became when he wanted her?
“Take off your clothes, Hunt.”
His eyes darkened. The tendons in his forearms knotted when he unbuttoned his pants and dropped them, his thermal pants and his briefs all at the same time.
She gasped at the impressive sight of him, but she lost the fantastic view when he folded in half to remove his boots.
He straightened again, gaze pinning her, his muscled body taut and his cock standing stiff against his six-pack.
Sliding her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she crooked a finger to bring him to her.
Without a hint of hesitation, he planted his hands on each side of her and slowly lowered himself over her.
The initial shock of his warm, velvet skin against her had her spinning out of control. She sucked in a gasp and clutched him close.
They took up where they’d left off as if those moments hadn’t taken place. Their mouths collided in a clash of desire. She spread her hands across his shoulders and rocked her hips.
Grasping one thigh, he pulled it up around his middle. Her soaking center brushed against his steely shaft, but he didn’t slide inside her.
He raked his mouth down the point of her chin, to her neck and collarbones, along the crests of her breasts and to each hard nipple. He sucked on them in soft pulls.
“Harder,” she whispered. “I need more!”
His groan hit her ears a split second before her insides twisted up thanks to the strong, sucking pull on one nipple and then the next. A dark need throbbed in her core. She wanted closer to this man. She wanted more of him. All of him.