Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Too terrified to move, knowing it would mean an attack of venom-filled fangs, Essie watched as the very deadly, extremely aggressive pit viper closed in.
It had blended in perfectly with the forest floor.
Now, as it glided nearly silently across her bag, she could see the dark hourglass-shaped patterns on its back.
And she was directly in its predatory path.
Dying in the jungle from a snake bite hadn’t been on her agenda. If she dared move—hell, breathe—it would strike. Her only option was to stay frozen in place and pray it would move along. But the damn thing was wriggling straight toward her, as though on a mission.
She held her breath, immobilized by fear, when movement in her periphery stalled her heart. In a fraction of a second, the man grabbed the snake’s tail and whipped it into a patch of undergrowth.
“Ohmygod!” Essie scrambled up and stumbled forward, tripping over her own feet in an attempt to get as far away from the deadly predator as quickly as possible. Her protector caught her before her knees hit the ground and hauled her up against his chest.
Yep, his chest was just as firm as she remembered. His arms held her close and his warmth surrounded her as she struggled to control her breathing.
“Are you okay?” His deep, concerned voice made his chest rumble against her cheek.
Pulling back, she looked up past his bearded jawline and into the most spectacular dark blue eyes she’d ever seen. This close, she saw each nuance in his irises. The electric blue swirls, the midnight-black stripes and dark outer edges. The intensity of his attention directed squarely at her.
With a shaky nod, she clutched onto his raggedy shirt. Even though she’d originally discouraged any kind of personal sharing, the overwhelming need to know more about the man who just saved her life made her ask, “What’s your name?” It came out so low and breathy, she was surprised he even heard.
His lips quirked. “Xander Hawke.”
What a cool name. He sounded like a superhero, or an action star.
“Is that your real name?” she teased, and the smirk faded. “I’m just kidding.” Her fingers tightened on his shirt. “Thank you, Xander. That could’ve ended very badly.”
“You’re welcome.” Rough. Yet sincere.
“I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. Like lightning.” They continued to stare at each other, neither letting go.
“I have good reflexes.”
A nervous chuckle burst from her mouth. “I’d say so.”
His gaze searched her face for a moment, as though he wanted to make sure she was truly okay.
Then he locked in on her eyes, holding them hostage.
The way he looked at her, so intently, as though he were trying to peer into her very soul, made her swallow hard.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” he finally asked.
“Essie,” she whispered.
Why am I still holding onto him?
She was also holding her breath. Her attention dropped to his mouth.
His lips were surrounded by a very dark beard with a few silver hairs sprinkled throughout, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Wondered what those rough-looking bristles would feel like scraping against her cheek.
She’d never experienced a proper kiss. Just a quick sloppy one from one of José’s friends years ago.
Snap out of it, Essie. You are not kissing this man.
Yet she couldn’t seem to let go of his black T-shirt.
“That’s pretty,” he murmured. Before she could muster up a response—and far sooner than she was ready—he unwound his arms from her, stepped back and cleared his throat. “We need to get out of the jungle. I figure we’ve got about three more hours until we reach the nearest town.”
“Three hours?” Her shoulders sank. Weariness filled her limbs and all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. “I was hoping you’d say three minutes.”
The edge of his mouth lifted in a half-grin. “Sorry, Peaches. We still have a ways to go.”
With a heavy sigh, she straightened up. Before she could reach for the backpack, he scooped it up.
“I’ll lead,” he stated, slinging the backpack over his shoulder, “and keep an eye out for any dangerous critters. Stay close, and step where I step, okay?”
“Okay.” Grateful for his company and his willingness to take the lead, she fell into step behind him. If she’d been alone, she might be dead at this moment. Dead from a stupid snake bite. It was a sobering thought.
As he marched forward, her eyes roamed over him, starting at the back of his dark head.
He had thick hair with a slight wave. A little too long, probably from being locked up and not exactly having access to a barber.
The color intrigued her—a midnight black with blue glints when the light hit it just right.
It was the kind of hair a woman liked to run her fingers through, and she imagined grasping and tugging where it curled up at the base of his neck.
Essie curled her fingers into her palms and stifled a sigh as her lazy perusal moved to his broad shoulders.
So very strong looking. His T-shirt clung to his muscled arms, and she noticed patches of sweat on the back of the shirt.
Even though the jungle temperature was cool at this time of day, the man was working up a good sweat.
Her attention slid down his tapered waist and zeroed in on his firm ass. With every step, those fitted black cargo pants showed off his cheeks like that was their only job. His legs, not too short or too long, pumped endlessly. He was in perfect proportion and damn attractive.
Essie reached up and caught her cross between her fingers. Xander Hawke was the kind of man to make a good girl turn bad. To put all sorts of wicked thoughts in her head.
Instead of looking down and paying close attention to the ground, she was so caught up in checking out Xander’s perfect… attributes… that she stepped into a small hole. Her ankle twisted and she cried out as she went down.
Xander spun around and dropped down beside her. “What happened?” Concern flooded his features.
“I twisted my ankle. So stupid.”
“Let me take a look.”
“I’m sure it’s fine—” But he was already tugging her jeans up and unlacing her boot. “Xander, it’s nothing.”
His head snapped up, and he pinned her with those royal blue eyes. So sexy and intense. Almost hypnotizing. Her belly fluttered.
“You’re going to let me look.” He carefully pulled the boot off, and she tried not to grimace at the flash of pain. “We might need to wrap it.”
She pressed her lips together then relented. “You’re very bossy.”
“I prefer assertive.”
Carefully lifting her ankle and setting it on his thigh, she watched as he began prodding and poking at it with his long fingers. Squeezing.
“Ow!” The sting as he touched one particular spot made her eyes water and her breath catch.
“I don’t suppose you packed a first aid kit?” He unzipped the backpack and began rummaging through it.
“I did, actually.”
“Got any antivenom in there?” He looked up and sent her a dazzling smile complete with perfect, white teeth. Of course, they were just as perfect as the rest of him. It was like God had chosen his most beautiful mold when he’d created Xander Hawke.
She got the feeling he was joking. “No.”
“But we have this.” He plucked a stretchy bandage out, gingerly lifted her foot again, and began to carefully wrap it. For such a big, strong man, he possessed a gentle touch. “That should help,” he declared and stuffed everything—including her boot—back into the pack, zipping it up.
“Um, I’m going to need my boot.”
Xander stood then reached for her hands and helped her up. She attempted to put pressure on her injured ankle and hissed, clutching his hands tighter. Crap. This was so not good. Not when they had hours left to travel over uneven ground.
“No, you don’t. I’ll carry you.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’ll give you a piggyback ride. We’ll make better time without you limping along.” He handed her the backpack. “Put it on then hop up.” He turned, presenting her with his delicious backside.
Essie slipped the backpack over her shoulders then hesitated. “I can try to wa—”
“Get on,” he commanded, lowering down in a squat so she could hop on more easily.
“Well, okay, Bossy.” She climbed onto his broad back and wrapped her arms around his neck.
When he stood up to his full height, she pulled in a soft breath as his hands slipped under her legs, holding them against his sides.
Wow. His height gave her a whole new perspective on the world. “How tall are you?”
“Almost six three.” He started walking and she tightened her hold, pressing closer. “You?”
“One hundred sixty-five centimeters.”
“So… about five-five. Although, I think you’re overestimating.”
“What?” she huffed, pulling back. “You think I’m shorter?”
“I definitely think you’re shorter.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“I am not,” she insisted. At least, not much. She was a smidge—the absolute smallest of smidges—under that. But she’d never admit to him that she’d exaggerated.
He moved at a good pace, yet not recklessly. She knew he was scanning the path ahead of them, on the lookout for danger. Now that she wasn’t focused on the ground, or his ass, she did her part by scanning the trees surrounding them. They fell into an easy rhythm, her bouncing lightly against him.
“So, what’s the plan once we reach the nearest town?” she asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a few hours of sleep. Also, a shower, some soap, a haircut. A steak. Maybe an entire tres leches cake for dessert.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “That sounds nice. My mother used to make the most amazing tres leches cake.”
“I could eat a few right about now.” He hiked her up, marching on. “We’ll find a place to rest, and I need to call a friend. Then we’ll borrow a car and drive the rest of the way to the coast.”
“Borrow?” she echoed.
“Did I say borrow? I meant appropriate. Commandeer? How about steal?”
“Have you stolen a lot of cars in your life?”
“More than I can count, Peaches.”
The nickname made her pulse skitter. “Why do you keep calling me that? Do I smell like peaches?” She leaned down and sniffed herself.
“No, more like Red Hots.”
She frowned. “What’s that?”
“You’ve never had Red Hots?”
“No.”
“It’s a cinnamon candy. They can be pretty spicy.”
Her lips twitched. The perfume she always wore had notes of cinnamon. Did he like it? Leaning closer, pressing her breasts into his back and moving her lips up next to his ear, she asked, “So why do you call me Peaches?”
His fingers dug into her thighs. “Do you want the polite answer?”
“No. I always prefer the raw, gritty truth.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He seemed to debate over what to tell her. Then, he surprised the hell out of her with his unfiltered answer. “Because you have the best goddamn ass I’ve ever seen. Juicy as a peach.”