Page 19 of Going Rogue
I have to know.
The question burned a trail up his throat, but he swallowed it down. He wouldn’t force her to answer . . . not yet. She’d started to tell him; he’d give her the chance to finish. Breathing in to calm himself, he ran a hand through her hair, silently urging her to continue.
“My parents divorced when I was eleven. One day, he left and . . .” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “That was it. He abandoned both of us.”
Crane’s chest ached for the girl she’d been. He didn’t understand how a father could leave his child. His dad would never have done that. He knew he was lucky whenit came to family. His parents were still together, still in love, and apart from being overly nosy, he loved how much they cared about their children’s lives. He came from a family of lawyers, and even though he was the black sheep, they respected his choices and loved him no matter what.
Wanting the same thing for Rogue, he squeezed her tight.
“I saw what it did to my mother. We loved him, and he left us without a second thought.” She pushed against his chest, and he loosened his hold as her head tilted to meet his gaze. Her rum-colored eyes were dry, but sadness lurked among their facets like occlusions in a gem. “His leaving destroyed her, and I never wanted to go through that. Ever.”
Crane had experienced many things in his thirty years; real heartache wasn’t one of them. He’d loved his high school girlfriend, but after joining the military, they’d grown up and apart. The ending of their relationship had been amicable enough. They might not have parted as friends, but they’d both understood that what they’d hadonly existed in the past. He’d dated other women since, but none of them had made him wonder what their future would be like together.
The way he thought of Rogue now.
Whether she’d be willing to entertain the possibility when she’d remained so closed off until this moment was a different matter. The fear she’d admitted to stirred a need in him to help her overcome it, to be the one who could.
He hadn’t missed her use of the past tense and hoped they stood a chance, even if it had been an unconscious choice. Because he wanted the opportunity to convince her otherwise. He would show her they could be worth the risk.
Holding her gaze, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, breathing in the spice of her sweat, which always made him think of cinnamon.
When he released her, he grazed her lip with his thumb. The cut in her bottom one no longer bled, but dried blood crusted around the swelling. “Let’s clean this up.”
???
Rogue
Rogue was perfectly capable of cleaning her own wounds, but she’d willingly submitted to Crane’s ministrations. The man continued to surprise her. She figured she’d shocked him with her admission, but he hadn’t made her feel foolish over it. If anything, the comfort and understanding he’d offered made her less self-conscious about her virginal state.
Her eyelids felt heavy as he tended to her cut, and not because she grew tired. His hand on her face, while he carefully swiped cool water over her lip and chin, shouldn’t have been erotic, but every nerve ending in her body seemed to buzz with life as if itwere.
Sitting on the bed with Crane crouched in front of her, she fought against the pull low in her belly while his rough, callused fingers stroked her skin so tenderly. It surprised her to see the liquid in the basin turn red since it felt like he barely touched her. Because he could be so gentle in this, shewondered how he would be in the sheets. It became difficult not to think about it when his mouth was close enough to hers that their breaths almost mingled.
What would sex with him be like?
Before she had a chance to ponder it, the Bedouin leader barged into their tent with a frantic shout and wildly waving arms. He spoke in such a rushed manner she had trouble understanding him.
Crane had surged to his feet, nearly spilling the basin of water. She pushed it out of the way as she stood and tried to understand what was being said. They fired words back and forth so quickly her head spun until one, in particular, landed on her ears and launched a shower of fear that drenched her body—militants.
“They’re here?” She wasn’t sure she’d asked the question aloud, but Crane reached for her hand.
“Almost. He’s going to hide us.” He thumbed a finger at the leader, but her legs had turned to jelly. She was getting really fucking tired of hiding.
“Come with me. Quickly.” The Bedouinleader lifted the tent flap and shooed them through it.
Crane’s hand still held hers, and she gripped it tightly, hoping it’d solidify the muscles that had gone slack with dread.
Would this nightmare ever end?
When they’d exited the tent, they followed the Bedouin man across the open desert, heading away from the camp. They were completely exposed, and she began to wonder if he was leading them to their death.
Maybe he’d agreed to turn them over in exchange for amnesty against his tribe. If she was him and he did plan to turn them over to the militants, she’d do it away from the camp, too. Far enough from the families there, he wanted to protect.
“Where’s he taking us?” she whispered to Crane as they trekked through the silent night.
“Trust me, squirrel.” Crane squeezed her hand with the statement.
But that wasn’t the issue. She trusted Crane. This Bedouin, however . . . the jury was still out.
