Page 31 of Leave Me Behind
I want to give in so fucking bad. I want to throw in the towel, because who in their right mind wants to protect someone like him? He deserves to die. But there’s a small voice in the back of my head that won’t let me give in.
I’ll never find the truth about what happened in Patagonia if I quit.
Bradshaw grabs my wrists and spins me over to my back. He looks down at my face with hesitance before glancing at my wrist like he’s going to snap it. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.”
I don’t wait to find out what he’s sorry for. “Me too,” I say as I hook my leg around his knee and force him to fall to the side, right off the edge of the short cliff. But he doesn’t let go of my wrist and pulls me over the ledge with him.
It’s not a far drop, maybe eight feet, but it feels stretched into many granular moments. All I see are Bradshaw’s blue eyes—all the anger vanished and replaced with anguish. He pulls me close to his chest and wraps his arms around me. His hand cups the nape of my neck. Was it out of panic or does he not hate me as much as he tries to convince me?
His head tucks in close to mine and we hit the ground with enough force that it knocks the breath out of my lungs. Our bodies roll down the slight incline for a few feet before we tumble to a stop.
Dust rolls over my body and my face stings with gravel burns. Twigs and brambles are tangled up in my messy braid. I take amoment to take inventory of my pain before moving. It doesn’t feel like anything is broken so I let out a small recouping breath.
“Shit.” Bradshaw curses from a few feet away. He’s already moving toward me and is at my side in a few seconds. His gear is covered in dirt. He looks fine, other than the red scrapes that line the skin visible around his eyes and the bridge of his nose. I’m surprised when he looks down at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
I groan as he rolls me to my back, wincing as he unzips my vest and lifts my shirt to the bottom of my breasts to check the cut across my ribs.
My mind goes fuzzy as a fresh wave of agony rolls through me.
“Fuck, it tore open.” He unlatches his side pocket and grabs a new roll of medical tape. His hands are trembling as he lowers them to my bare flesh. The pads of his fingers are hot and that thin line between pain and lust lights up again. Something I shouldn’t enjoy, but I do.
I grab his wrist and stop him from wrapping it. “Don’t touch me, asshole,” I rasp and take the tape from him, fumbling with my own shaking hands to get the damn thing open.
He watches me in silence as I pull the old bandage off. I have to bury my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from whimpering. Blood quickly leaks from the wound. My hands aren’t moving as smoothly as I’d like. I’m not sure if it’s because of the shock from the fall, the fact that mypartnerattacked me, or because I’m a second away from a mental breakdown.
Blood smears across my hands and stomach as I roll the medical tape around my chest. It keeps sliding and making it worse. I’m about to just pull my shirt down and deal with it once we get back to camp, but his hands reach out and rest over mine, steadying them.
I freeze and let my eyes flick up to his. He gives me an apologetic crease of his brow but doesn’t say anything. Slowly, he takes the tape from my hands and finishes binding the injury.
I observe him carefully as he does. There’s a war waging in his mind right now. He’s made it clear he wants me off the squad. He’ll go to great lengths to make that happen. But then he gets upset after I’m hurt… My teeth set and I try not to think about it anymore. I try not to focus on the dark, wanton look in his eyes as he traces my skin with his fingertips.
Bradshaw’s thumb digs into the flesh of my hip and I jerk involuntarily at the sensation of it. He smirks under his black mask. “You fucking masochist. I knew you liked when I carved you up. Your thighs were hot and rubbing beneath me. Is that why you won’t go? Because I keep feeding your sickness?” His voice is hoarse. I know a crumbling man when I see one.
“You obviously enjoy dealing out pain. It’s not my fault you discovered my kink.”
His smile stretches under his mask but his eyes remain dull. He lets his hands, covered in my blood, come down to his sides and we share an uncomfortable silence before he seems to come back to himself. He stands slowly and, without a word, walks back in the direction toward base alone.
My head falls back to the ground and I lie there for a few minutes.
What the hell am I supposed to do to get him to trust me?
twelve
. . .
Bradshaw
Her blood is smeared allover my hands.
Fuck.
I take a deep, unsteady breath to center myself as I push my back against a tree and slide to the forest floor. My hands shake uncontrollably. This is usually when my panic sets in, when the anxiety spreads through my veins after training and all I can think of is death. But with her… My eyes linger on the bright red of her blood on my fingertips and it shoots heat to my dick.
“Goddammit,” I say under my breath.
Don’t get attached to her,I remind myself, leg bouncing with anxiety and the urge to calm the swelling in my pants.Donotlet her stay.
I tilt my head back against the bark of the ponderosa and breathe slowly, letting my hand fall to my zipper and pull out my cock. I curl my fingers around the thickness of it and start pumping. Her blood slicks over my length and all I can think of as I beat myself off are her parted lips as I ran my fingers overher cut. The way her eyes rolled sensually back and her hips bucked at my touch.
