Page 12 of Her Reluctant Hero
She twisted to look at him when she felt an extra nudge against her butt.
“Are you kidding me?”
He smirked. “I’ve always been an ass man.”
“Leave off the last word and I’ll concur.”
“Concur—big word for a whore.”
She purposely pressed her butt into his groin. “I doubt you’d know what big is.”
“Yeah?” He tightened his arm around her waist and stepped backwards.
The air was sucked out of her lungs as they dropped down the side of the cliff. She couldn’t even scream as the dirt and vines zipped by. Was he controlling their descent? Could he stop them before they crashed and broke all their bones?
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.The scream was stuck in her throat as they plummeted down. He wouldn’t be able to stop them, not as fast as they were falling, not with his injured hands. She grasped at the rope that whipped past, but snatched her hands back as the rope tore into her bare fingers.
The scent of heated leather hit her—Shepard’s gloves on the rope, their only brake. Dust rose up as they hurtled toward the jungle floor—Shepard’s boots against the cliff wall as he tried to stop them.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the dirt and rocks he kicked loose, but when she did she saw the view again that she’d seen from the ledge—straight down.
Behind her, over the screaming in her head and her own pounding pulse, she heard Shepard’s grunts as he tried to slow them down, his heavy breathing hot against her ear.
With a jerk that snapped her head back into his shoulder and her butt into his groin, they stopped. He lowered his feet, pulling hers with him, and she was stunned to find ground with her toes.
As soon as he loosened the rope from around her hips, she turned around and hit his chest as hard as she could.
“You asshole,” she wheezed. “What the hell were you thinking?” She punctuated her question with another smack.
“You didn’t like being up there,” he said matter-of-factly, though out of breath himself as he peeled off his gloves.
His shredded, bloody gloves.
“You asshole.” She pushed him, and he took a step back. “You did it just to scare me, and now look. I hope your hands rot off.”
And she bent double and vomited at his feet.
The goddess was trembling, and for a moment, Alex thought she’d drop into the puke at his feet. That was the reason he held on to her arms, not out of any need to comfort her. He just didn’t want the smell of puke to follow them through the jungle, attracting animals.
She tilted her head back. Her face was pale in the early-morning light, her lips swollen and dark against her white skin. Her eyes were huge.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said, but to break off the apology he released her. She staggered before regaining her footing. “You going to puke again?”
“If I do, I’ll have better aim.” Her tone was sharp.
He stripped off his ruined gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. “Let’s go, then.”
With jerky movements, she shifted her pack onto her back and fell into step.
Humidity drenched his skin as they made their way through the dense underbrush. The goddess had trouble keeping up, stumbling along in her boots, unable to keep her footing. No matter what kind of shape her body was in—and there hadn’t been an inch he hadn’t seen—she panted with exertion.
But she didn’t complain. He gave her grudging credit for that. He tried to imagine Rebecca in this same situation, but her idea of an adventure was a picnic in the park. He’d teased her about it, but damn if he didn’t wish he was there with her right now.
He wasn’t able to reach his men. They were on the mountain, he was in the valley. He sure as hell hadn’t expected to be separated from them. They had to find high ground, and soon, if they were to learn the new extraction point.
Only the goddess was really slowing down now. He turned to see her at least five yards back, her face grim and determined.
But damn, five yards. He couldn’t keep her safe back there, and God knew where Saldana’s men were. Maybe they thought they’d already killed her, and him with her, but more likely they were looking for her.
