Chapter Three #2
“Need your clothes and shoes to set them out to dry,” he said, gruffer than he intended.
He was already pulling off his boots to set them close to the fire.
He hadn’t noticed how cold he’d gotten. It would be good to lie down for a few minutes, get warm, and then he could figure out what to eat from their meager supplies.
There was no answer. No movement. She wasn’t lying down naked on the sleeping bag.
She was slumped against the back wall of the little grotto-like cavern.
She hadn’t even taken off her coat. Huddled as she was, knees drawn up, arms around her middle, head down, she looked tiny.
So small he could barely tell she was there.
Swearing, he pushed past their gear and got to her, dragging her away from the cold dirt that made up the wall.
He began to strip her fast, using minimal movement, meaning he nearly ripped her clothes in the process.
He didn’t talk, didn’t instruct her, he just shoved the sleeves down and yanked the jacket and then shirt off.
He had her on his lap and just as if she were a doll, he opened the jeans and peeled them over her hips and down her thighs.
Even in the dim light of the cave, her legs appeared a ghostly white and those strange scars stood out, marring her satin skin.
For a woman who appeared not to have curves, she had them.
Her hips were just wide enough to form a perfect miniature hourglass thanks to that little tucked-in waist and narrow rib cage.
It just made it more difficult to get the wet material over her hips and down her legs.
She wasn’t responding. Not cooperating. Not anything.
“Talk to me, Wildfire,” he demanded, stripping off his shirt while she lay in his arms completely naked. He didn’t have the time to admire the fiery red at the junction between her legs, and that just plain scared the shit out of him.
He set her on the sleeping bag and divested himself of the rest of his clothes.
He could lay them out much more neatly and efficiently after he brought her body temperature up.
The little space that would be home until the storm passed warmed fast. That was the good news.
The bad news was she was entirely unresponsive.
His fault. His fuckin’ fault because he was so busy thinking about himself, trying to understand what he planned to do with her once they were off the mountain and within the safety of his club.
Then he was lying on the open sleeping bag, no clothes, Lyric’s naked body over his, with the one thin blanket he’d found in the truck over the top of them.
It smelled like motor oil, but he tucked it around them both and wrapped her in his arms. He just held her at first, eyes closed, praying to whatever higher power was in the universe to let him have her.
To keep her alive. He made bargains. Stupid ones he’d never keep. Even stupider ones he would.
He began to massage her arms. She was ice-cold, but the longer she stayed lying over him, skin-to-skin, as if they’d been created that way, made exclusively for each other, she began to warm.
He moved on to her neck and then her back.
His hands were big, rough, but when he touched her, it was with the way he felt.
He massaged her with the uncertainty, the need and that unnamed emotion that overwhelmed and confused him, the one he’d never known and refused to put a name to.
He took all of that and pushed it deep into her body right along with heat.
It took longer than he’d hoped. He massaged her buttocks, the sweet rounded cheeks that formed a heart of pure temptation.
She walked like a ballerina, and whenever he was behind her, he found his gaze fixed on that extremely feminine invitation.
When his hands found the backs of her thighs, right where her bottom ended, she moved.
His heart nearly stopped and then began racing.
“It’s becoming a habit.”
Her voice was slightly slurred, very thin, almost too low for him to hear. He caught that trace of amusement, and his world righted itself.
“What’s becoming a habit?” He continued the massage, but his fingers went deeper.
“Waking up surrounded by you after dreaming about you.”
That was an unguarded answer if he’d ever heard one. She was still drifting. “Good or bad habit?” He needed to know she was feeling something for him, even if she was only dreaming good things about him, so he pushed it.
“How could you be anything but good, Keys?”
He squeezed his eyes closed tight. How many men had he killed?
Tortured? It didn’t matter if there were good reasons or if it was his life or theirs, he’d done things she couldn’t conceive of.
That monster had slipped loose in front of her on more than one occasion, and she still dreamt of him as good.
Named him that. Looked at him as if he mattered.
He managed to brush a kiss onto the top of her head. “I never know with you.”
“Yes, you do. I always give in to you, and that’s so pathetic.”
Now there was real laughter in her voice. His woman was waking up.
“You never concede.” That was a damned lie, but he liked sparring with her, particularly now, when he’d been so afraid for her. Her brain was still intact, and going a few rounds with him meant she would be fine.
He felt her breath against his skin. Over his heart.
His gut clenched. That small burst of heat pierced right through skin and muscle.
Penetrated deep just like an arrow. As if that heat were a virus, it spread through him fast, taking him over.
He could feel it moving through him, claiming every inch of him, branding him with her.
“Only you would have the audacity to say that when you know it isn’t true. You give me that supposed-to-be-scary look, so stern, and you know I think it’s cute. And hot. There isn’t a man on this earth that is hot the way you are.”
“I’m hot?” he encouraged. He was finding her very interesting when she wasn’t quite up to knowing what she was revealing.
“Gorgeous hot in that badass, dangerous way. Women fall like dominos for that look, and you know it. But they don’t see the cute behind the scary.
That’s what gets you all the concessions from me.
It gets you off the hook for being an arrogant badass who goes around scaring the crap out of everyone. ”
“I wish I scared the crap out of you.” That much was certainly true. If he scared her, she might listen to him when it was necessary, like when people were trying to kill them.
She gave him that little ridiculous giggle, the one that had sunshine attached to it. “It’s difficult to be a scary, dangerous badass, and then look cute and expect me not to notice. I’ve got eyes, Keys.”
“You might have eyes, but you don’t have common sense or self-preservation.”
“I take great exception to your faulty conclusions,” she stated, this time giving him her snippy, haughty note. The one that should have gotten under his skin but only made him want to smile and tease her to get more of it.
“You’re stuck with me, a head wound and a bullet wound in your arm and thigh because of the not-so-brilliant decision you made that was not logical and certainly had nothing to do with self-preservation. In fact, just the opposite.”
She heaved a sigh, an exaggerated one. “I see you’re working yourself up to one of your lectures. Let me just get comfortable and go back to sleep before you proceed.”
The temptation to smack her bare bottom and then roll her under him was so strong he nearly did it. Instead, he circled her upper thighs, gripping them with a warning squeeze. He had big hands and she was seriously small, much more so without the bulky clothing than he’d first thought.
“You told me you were a serious hiker. Not the kind of hike that requires a bottle of water and an hour out of your day.”
“Well, yeah.” She yawned and one arm slid up his chest, her hand framing his jaw. “I love backpacking, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
“What trails did you hike and how long did it take you?”
She was walking into his trap and not seeing it. He liked that. She was difficult to best in any argument, but she wasn’t up to her usual sharp mode. And she had a passion for backpacking. He knew because anytime the subject came up, she poured joy into the telling.
“One of my favorites was the John Muir Trail. It’s over two hundred miles of pure wilderness. Honestly, Keys, you would love it. It took me three and a half weeks and a couple of resupplies, but it was unbelievably beautiful.”
“No doubt. And you did it alone?”
“I like going out alone. I hiked the Catskills and parts of the Appalachian Mountains. I’ve backpacked the Lost Coast and even up here and through the Cascades.”
She wasn’t bragging. She didn’t consider what she’d done extraordinary.
“Why do you like being alone?”
She lifted her head, her emerald eyes meeting his. “I don’t have to be anyone I’m not. I can just find my peace and be in a happy place, which for me is the wilderness. I’m surrounded by beauty and nature, and I don’t have to pretend.”
“Why’d you let me in when you don’t anyone else? Everyone in that town sees you as their friend, but you give them a mask. It’s a good one, friendly and sweet. You know their names, you know their lives, because you see them, but you don’t let them see you.”
She rubbed her face on his chest and let out a little sigh when she lay her head over his heart.
“You wear a mask, Keys, and I recognized that right away because we’re alike in that.
I saw you. You saw me. I knew you were aware that I was showing that disguise, and there was a kind of freedom, even euphoria, knowing one person in this world sees me. I hoped it would be the same for you.”