Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Lyndie’s graceless slide was broken by a nice bush. Unfortunately her weight was no match for said nice bush, and she plowed right through it, fell through the air again, bashing her knee and also her ribs, and what seemed like a lifetime later, landed with a splash.
With a gasping breath—an extremely tight gasping breath because her lungs had tightened and dried like a Shrinky Dink—she sat in a running river, the body of which was maybe thirty feet wide and currently swirling up to her belly button.
Behind her was the sharp, craggy rock and sand they’d just slid down.
On the other side of the river, blowing straight at her along with the harsh wind, was a wall of fire. Mesmerized, horrified, she stared at it.
Then, from behind her came a splash. She jerked out of her shock to remember Griffin had fallen, too, and had landed a few feet away.
Turning in the water, she set her eyes on the only steady point in an upside down, dangerous world.
“Lyndie.” As drenched and dirty in his Nomex flame-resistant clothing as she was, he came to his knees, then hauled her up to hers, his expression tense and tight with what she realized was fear.
For her. “You all right?” he demanded, and when she just stared at him, he added a little shake. “Lyndie. Are you all right?”
Sure. Unless she counted the yearning for the safety of his arms. But she didn’t need anyone’s arms, warm or strong or otherwise. She never had. She had no idea then, why she shook her head no in answer to his question. “I don’t think so, no.”
“God.” He hauled her into the arms she’d wanted around her. “I’m sorry.”
She felt the pounding of his heart, the bite of his wet fingers spread wide on her back. It didn’t feel like anything but the protective hug of a man she could count on, who’d be there if she needed him.
Like now. Horrifying herself, she let out a sound that might have been a pathetic whimper.
He pulled back, only to run his hands over her body. “What’s hurt?”
Actually, she had no idea. If she was relying on a man she didn’t even know for comfort, when she never relied on anyone, then no doubt, she’d hit her head.
She glanced down at herself. Two arms, two legs…
everything seemed to be in focus and all in one piece, but before she could answer, he’d put his hands on her face, tilting it up to his.
“Lyndie.” His voice was hoarse, rough. His clothes clung to his every hard inch.
The yellow shirt delineated the fact that he was made up of corded muscle, without an inch of excess.
Something she already knew, now that she’d been plastered against him.
He had a scrape over his chin and another on his throat, both bleeding lightly, and yet he never took his eyes off her. “Talk to me.”
Because he looked so serious, and because she was quite relieved to find herself in one piece, she let out a strangled sound that was half laugh, half cry. “I’m…good.”
He didn’t look convinced. His finger gently stroked her jaw and the swelling there from where a rock had glanced her.
“Superficial stuff,” she whispered. “Really.” For a moment, a very brief moment, she felt like putting her mouth to his cuts and bruises to kiss them all better, and with another man she might have, but she retained her sanity.
Griffin Moore—sexy, brooding, haunted—was not a man to mess with. “Guess what…we lived.”
He blinked once, slow as an owl. “Yeah.”
Because she was still just a bit in shock, she splashed him, and then because he looked so surprised, she did it again. “Feel that? Alive.”
Another slow blink, and then the hands that he’d put on her face tightened, just a little. His expression was fierce, so fierce, but before she could soothe him, he’d leaned in, sinking his fingers in the tangled mess of her hair.
She felt the heat of his breath against her face, and then her own shockingly needy response.
“We’re okay,” he murmured.
“Right.” Against her brain’s command, her body struggled to get even closer to his. “We’re okay.”
He stared down into her face, specifically at her mouth, which she nervously wet with her tongue, making him groan, and then in the next breath, his mouth hungrily covered hers.
Just one quick, hard kiss. She had the time to think he tasted like incredibly yummy man, but then it was over before she could even fully register it.
He stared at her, still close enough to bring his mouth back to hers without effort if he chose to, which to her disappointment, he didn’t.
“What was that?” she asked, breath heaving even more now.
“A good, hard fall.”
“No, after that.”
“You were in shock.”
“Was not. You put your lips on mine.”
“I kissed you.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again. Speculation and something else flickered in his expression. It was the something else that got to her.
“It was a confirmation of your statement,” he said. “We’re alive.”
As a rule, most men were intimidated by her, and if they weren’t, well, then they usually weren’t interested. In all the kissing she’d experienced in her life, she’d have to say, she’d started most of it.
She hadn’t started this.
Or had she? She’d have liked to hit rewind and relive it.
A few times.
Griffin took in the flaming vegetation closing in and shook his head in surprise. “It does feel good to be alive. I’d forgotten how good.”
She felt herself leaning toward him, drawn by an energy she couldn’t seem to resist.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, misunderstanding her reason for wanting to be close. “We’re both really okay.” He stood and pulled her up as well. Both of his hands came up to once again cradle her face, his big, warm hands amazingly gentle.
“Yeah.” But still she leaned in, craving the next kiss as she craved…
air. This time he didn’t disappoint, his mouth covered hers, deepening the connection, using his entire body, his tongue, and this time it wasn’t a kiss driven by fear and desperation, but one of warmth and affection. And then, need. Hunger.
When it was over, she slowly pulled back. Licked her lips to enjoy every last taste. Then turned toward the fire.
Griffin shook his head as if to clear it, drew in a ragged breath, and also eyed the burning bush only a few feet away. “I’d have done anything to keep you from having to fall like that—”
“I’m fine.” Even if her breathing hadn’t eased, and the problem wasn’t so much a sexual reaction to a delicious kiss, but asthma-related.
“What you are,” he said, “is tough as hell. And for what it’s worth, it’s pretty damn inspiring.” He touched her again, just a brief stroke of his finger over her jaw. “At a time when I needed inspiring. I owe you for that.”
“What you owe me is to get control of this fire.” Never comfortable with compliments, she tried to turn away, but he stopped her.
Purposely she looked down at his hands on her, then up into his face, giving him a look that had singed the hair off plenty of men.
And yet he didn’t scare off. “I know,” he said. “You want to get on with it, but Lyndie, you are amazing. You’re amazing to me.”
“Look, I don’t know what to do with words like that, okay? Or the way I liked your kiss but don’t want to like you.”
He let out a sound that might have been a laugh.
“Make that two of us.” Once again, he turned to the flames licking at the brush lining the river.
Most had burned black by now, but there was still plenty left for the fire to eat up.
“Let’s go upriver. I still need to see above the fire, see how far west it goes.
Then back to the men and set a plan in motion. ”
“Right.” She took as deep a breath as she could—which wasn’t much—fortifying herself for another trek. “Up the river.”
She started trudging through the water, but Griffin stopped her with a hand to her elbow.
Slowly she looked up at him.
“Thanks for not letting me quit,” he said quietly, shocked by how much he meant it.
“I didn’t do much. You just have a misguided sense of heroism.”
He snorted.
“You do. You’ve got a ‘save the world’ complex, Ace.” She patted his arm. “It’s actually quite annoying.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is it, now?”
“Yeah.” Looking quite smug for someone with dirt on her nose and a ripped blouse, she splashed her way down the river, breathing heavily, clearly assuming he’d follow. When he didn’t, she turned and cocked a brow at him.
He cocked a brow right back. “Would it be showing my…misguided sense of heroism, if I pointed out that you’re going the wrong way? I want to go up-stream.”
She stopped and looked around, at the fire, the cliff, then both up and down the river before rolling her eyes at herself. Muttering beneath her breath, she whirled and splashed her way back to him, passing him, ignoring his soft laugh.
Then, oddly enough, she slowed down and let him pass her. But because this wasn’t a woman to give up the lead, he paused. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She still splashed along, but was clearly lagging, and still breathing heavily, too heavily he realized now for a woman in incredible athletic shape.
“What is it?” he pressed.
“I said nothing.” But she slid her hand into her pocket, and then her other pocket, and then went utterly still. “No.” She slapped her back pockets now, then looked at him, making him realize he’d not really seen her afraid.
Until now.
“Lyndie?”
Again she slapped her pockets, then whirled in a circle, looking around her. Her breathing had gone from ragged to wildly out of control.
And his heart sank. He moved back to her, grabbed her arm. “What is it? Asthma?”
“Yes,” she wheezed.
“Christ.” He looked at her helplessly. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“No need. At least not until now.” She tipped her head back and eyed the slide of rocks they’d just tumbled down. Her chest rose and fell with her shallow little breaths, the clenching of her fist over her shirt telling him how bad it was. “I lost my inhaler.”
“Where?”
“Before the fall, I think. On the trail.”