Chapter 10 #2
He caught her wrists, grip firm but not cruel. Beast, unsettled by the rising voices, twined between his legs, pressing close as if to fuse them back together. The movement threw him off balance. He staggered, trying to correct, but momentum betrayed him.
They went down hard into the leaf litter, tangled in limbs and curses. When the dust settled, Emily was straddling him, her palms splayed against his chest, breathless, wild-eyed.
This time she didn’t scramble off.
Her breath hitched, eyes widening as the realization struck them both. The air charged between them, the weight of their argument burning away under something far more dangerous.
His chest heaved, tangled up in her heat and his own spiraling emotions. “This isn’t a fucking supermarket, oh great fairy queen. This is the goddamned jungle.”
Her growl tore out, low and furious. “I know it’s the goddamned jungle.
You think I’m some clueless scientist, bumbling around with my little notebook?
I have been in and out of this jungle for six months, and initially, I collected data for six weeks on my own.
No hill tumbles. No merry band of special operators claiming my airspace.
I came with you because you scared me into it.
Now my dissertation, my work, my very life is in jeopardy.
The one time I try to help, to contribute, you bark at me like I’m a goddamn recruit. You ungrateful, lunatic bastard.”
He glared up at her, pulse hammering. “What fucking bargain?”
Her fingers fisted into the sides of his vest, dragging him closer until her hair brushed his jaw.
“The one where I only have so much to give. Without you, those men would’ve raped me, killed me.
I know that. You’re my shield, my net, my protector.
But stop looking at me like I don’t know how to survive. ”
The words gutted him. He closed his eyes, the fight draining out of his body even as tension still thrummed through every muscle.
His voice came low, ragged, breaking against the weight of it.
“I don’t know who I am if I’m not essential, Em.
If I’m not the one holding it all together, then who the fuck am I?
” His throat worked, the rasp cutting deeper.
“I don’t know how you got under my skin so deep, but I can’t breathe sometimes.
” He dragged in a breath, sharp and uneven, as if it hurt to say the words aloud.
“So yeah, fucking forgive me for being a raging, lunatic bastard when I think you’re in danger. I can’t…bear that.”
Her breath caught, eyes shining with something that wasn’t just fury anymore. She whispered, voice breaking, “Who did this to you? Who made you believe you weren’t enough just as you are? Tell me, and I’ll hunt them down and glitter-burn them alive.”
His breath hitched. God, she was beautiful and outraged, furious about the stupid confession that had burned in his chest since she’d saved him on that cliff.
He fought to leash his desire, but she already knew.
His erection pressed hard against her belly, and he wasn’t fooling her for a second. Did he even want to?
Her eyes caught his with a fierce magnetism.
The fire there wasn’t just anger. It was knowing.
Appreciation. Hunger. A recognition that whatever stood between them was no longer a spark but a blaze, changing the ground under their feet.
The weight of it punched through his chest, leaving him raw, unarmored, undone.
Something in him caved, collapsed under the weight of emotions he’d carried too long.
He fisted the back of her head, rolled her beneath him, and took her mouth like a starving man.
She was volume, she was strong, she was too much, and he still couldn’t get enough, drinking her in until he thought he might break.
That citrus scent clung to her hair and skin, fresh and sharp.
He groaned into her lips, softer strands tangling through his fingers.
Her mouth met his with equal heat, equal desperation.
He shouldn’t even be touching her, sweat, dirt, blood on his skin, but he needed her warmth, needed her to burn out the fear that his jungle girl was exactly right for him.
His hips surged against her pelvis. She answered with a jackknife thrust, a groan that went straight through him.
His hand slid up, molding her breast into his palm, small and delicate against his callused grip.
She pulled at his vest, frustrated, arching beneath him, red hair fanned like spilled fire across the jungle floor.
His breath locked. Christ , what the fuck was he doing?
The operator in him roared awake. They were in the open, exposed, vulnerable. Fighting like caged animals while danger prowled the trees. He tore himself away, chest heaving, and grabbed for his rifle.
Emily sat up, lips swollen, eyes dazed.
“We need to get back to the cave,” he muttered, voice rough.
She searched his face, something unspoken passing between them, then nodded. “Okay. Let me gather this up.”
He stood, waiting while she tied the makeshift cloth bag again, then herded her back toward the waterfall, his body still burning, his dick aching, his heart compromised. Fucked up and gone.
Beast padded beside him, tail wagging once, that look in his amber eyes unnervingly soft.
Then it hit him.
It wasn’t the dog who had fallen for her. It was him. His cues, his heartbeat, his restless obsession had bled into Beast from the start. His partner hadn’t chosen Emily first. He had.
Long before he was ready to admit it, long before he’d even realized it himself, Christian Beckett had already started to fall.
When they reached the cave, Emily brushed the damp hair back from her temple and said, “Why don’t you clean up, and I’ll make us something to eat.”
They’d been awake since before dawn yesterday, so it did feel like they had been moving for thirty hours straight.
It had been necessary to put distance between him, Emily, and those bastards chasing them.
Then he’d had to do a perimeter check that took him a couple of hours.
He was sweaty and muddy, and he hadn’t washed in the pool, just tried to cool off after that kiss.
They were both exhausted, and it was no wonder their tempers had flared back there.
He looked at her, his mouth tightening. “I’d tell you not to leave this spot, but I’d be wasting my breath.
” His wry tone made her eyes flash. God, he loved her spunk.
She stepped closer, laid her palm against his chest. The steady thud beneath her hand betrayed him as much as the catch in his breath. “I won’t go anywhere. I promise. You take some time and maybe find a little peace, my green giant. That pool is magical.”
He covered her hand, his heart lurching at the sound of the hated nickname spoken so softly. “You’re not trying to lull me into a pixie coma, are you? I’m on to you.”
Her smile warmed. She shook her head. “I think we have some things to talk about, and we’re both tired and hungry. Let’s call a truce. White flag?”
He gave her fingers a squeeze. “SEALs never surrender, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”
She shook her head. “Don’t think of it as mission failure, just a reframing of the parameters.”
“So now I have to deal with a pixie tactician.”
Her smirk curved sharply. “I was always a pixie tactician,” she added when he lifted a brow. “You were yelling too much to notice.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Fair enough.” He turned, but her voice stopped him.
“Wait.” She motioned at his vest. “How do you get this thing off?”
He reached for the Velcro, but she batted his hands away. “Let me. Please, Christian.”
His chest filled. He didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded and dropped to one knee.
Her breath caught as she peeled back the lower section of his vest, then shifted to lift it. She let out a hard exhale. “My God, this weighs as much as a small child. You’ve been hauling this and your pack through the jungle?”
He shrugged, trying not to notice the awe in her eyes. “All part and parcel of the SEAL experience. Great cosmic power, fucking heavy equipment.”
Her laughter chimed through him like shards of sunlight, tinkling in places he hadn’t felt alive in years. He finally shouldered it off himself, muscles rippling with the effort.
“Muscles for days,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Then she waved him toward the pool. “Get going, big man, before I forget that humans have to eat.”
He chuckled, stripping down to his compression shorts, folding every piece of gear with the same precision he used in the field, boots lined neatly beside the pile. From his pack he drew a clean T-shirt, black shorts, and his kit.
She hadn’t looked away. Her eyes tracked the broad span of his torso, lingering, then slid lower to the bulge stretching the thin fabric. Heat flared in her cheeks, and she dragged in a sharp breath before she could stop herself.
As he turned toward the wall of stone that hid the cascade, a raw ache clawed through him. He’d never wanted to fuck a woman more. But damn him, what he wanted even more was to know her, every scar, every truth, every hidden place she’d never let anyone touch.
Her gaze clung for another heartbeat, soft and unguarded, before she tore it away with a sigh and bent to gather her catch, red hair falling forward like a curtain between them. His last words before he disappeared from her view were, “Beast, guard.”
At the pool, he stripped off his shorts, waded in and let the coolness of the water soothe his sweaty, aching skin and body. The water stung his cuts all over again, but he barely felt the pain.
The real pain, the aching, searing pain was in his groin. God, he wanted her but, fuck, they were in the middle of the jungle. He was actively on a mission. It wasn’t the time or the place or fucking right. But damned if he could find a damn thing wrong with it.