Page 61 of The Sandbar saga

"Let's get you home." He picked her up.

She latched on to him and buried her face in his neck. Even her breathing on his skin gave him chills. She wouldn't suffer from the cold. It was fifty-five degrees out. But the wetness coupled with her fright could make it more challenging to bring her out of her panic.

At the door of his vehicle, she lifted her head. "My car?"

"I'll call a tow truck tomorrow morning." He shifted her and opened the door, putting her inside.

She shook, her teeth chattering. Because she wasn't letting go of his neck, he buckled her in, making sure she stayed in the seat.

"You need to let go of me, Katie." He swept the wet strands of hair off her face. "Come on. I'm taking you home now."

Her arms slipped from around him. He exited the car, shut the door, and scrambled around to the other side, running on pure adrenaline. She was safe. Now, he'd deal with the aftermath.

He pulled away from the curb and turned the heater on full-blast. Sweat trickled down his temple. From the moment he'd heard the panic in her voice, he'd run hot. She was making progress, but the damn storms triggered her every single time in one way or another.

"There's no more lightning," she murmured.

He refused to take his gaze off the road and reached over and felt for her hand. Giving her a squeeze, he said, "Just rain."

She held on to him.

Thankful for an automatic car, he navigated the hill, gate, and neighborhood with one hand on the steering wheel. He pulled into the garage.

"Let's get you inside and warmed up." He walked around the car and helped her stand.

She clung to his arm. He slowly walked with her. Inside the kitchen, he tossed his keys and phone on the counter.

"I'll fill the bathtub." He removed her from his arm.

"No." She headed toward the sliding doors. "Hot tub."

A trail of water followed her. He made sure she'd go and not sit down on the patio, lost in her head.

Outside, he turned on the pool lights, which also lit the hot tub area by the shallow end. Thinking she would kick off her shoes and go in with all her clothes, it was several seconds after he caught sight of her slim back that she was removing her clothes. By then, he couldn't look away.

Her back curved as she unfastened her jeans and struggled with pushing them down. The soaking wet material clung to her hips, her thighs. Her heavy breathing reached his ears as she grew more exhausted.

He stepped forward and put his hands on her hips. Without a word, he peeled her jeans down her legs. She braced her hand on his shoulder, balancing on him as she lifted one foot and then the other. It was when he had her stripped naked, he noticed she hadn't been wearing shoes.

Usually in flipflops, she must've lost them when he carried her to the car.

Straightening, he ogled her in the dim light from the pool, then took her hand and led her to the water, steadying her as she took the steps and lowered her body into the hot tub.

Submerged, she sighed, closing her eyes an extra beat. He found himself aroused through his concern for her. Not wanting to leave her in case she fell asleep, he continued to watch out for her. She was tired and vulnerable. The warm temperature would only make her more exhausted.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Stay with me."

That's all she had to ask. It wasn't his desire that had him toeing off his shoes. He stripped off his shirt. He would do anything for her.

In her state, she needed him. He took the rest of his clothes off. Like a wounded bird in the rain, he would comfort her.

He slipped into the water beside her.

Her smooth leg brushed against his thigh. He could no longer control his body's reaction to her, and yet he refrained from touching her.

As her psychologist, his main concern was her wellbeing. He would help her find the strength to recover, teach her how to depend on herself, and find the tools to make the right choices for the next time it stormed.

She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder. "I could see you dying on the sandbar. It was so real to me. You were there with the rain beating down on you, and you refused to move off the sand. I'd open my eyes and tell myself that I was only imagining you there—like you'd taught me to do. But all I could think about was getting as close to the water as possible, so if your car got swept over the bridge, I could jump in and save you. I tried to stop thinking about it like you taught me, but I got confused. It was my father I was seeing, and then it was you. I can't stop thinking about you..."