Page 57 of Mountain Rescue
“It’s a good one, the same as mine.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She launched herself at him. “This is awesome.”
“Well, hello there.” He wrapped his arms around her. How many women would get this excited about such a simple and inexpensive gift? She was something else, something special.
She leaned her head back and grinned up at him. “For a paracord, I might even let you kiss me.”
“Yeah?” His gaze fell to her mouth. “Like right now?”
“If you want.”
“Oh, I want.”
She tossed the paracord on the dresser. “You can show me all the things this does later, after we lock lips.”
He chuckled. “Lock lips, huh?” He lowered his mouth to hers, and as he kissed her, he had the crazy thought that she was the only woman he wanted to kiss for the rest of his life.
She had her hair in a ponytail again, and he wrapped it around his fist the way he’d wanted to do every time that ponytail bounced along her back during their runs up the mountain. She softly moaned, telling him she liked that. He lowered his other hand to her hip, pulling her against him, letting her feel how much he wanted her.
“Please,” she whispered into his mouth.
“Yes,” he whispered back. He’d never wanted a girl the way he wanted Rachel, and that scared him a little. There wasn’t a future for them, but he was beginning to think that he wanted more than a fling. Their lives were in two different parts of the country, though, the distance too great to even see each other on the weekends.
There was no way he’d move to LA. That place would suffocate him, and he’d never ask her to give up her career and move to Montana. She was a city girl with an awesome career, and she’d be bored out of her mind living on a ranch.
She tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“The shirt stays on.” When she frowned, he said, “You don’t want to see the mess of my body while I’m making love to you.” Because that was what he was going to do...make love to her all night long. His scars were hard for him to look at, and he wouldn’t make her, not while they were loving on each other. It was bad enough that he’d have to take his jeans off.
She leaned away, put her hands on his cheeks, and stared into his eyes. “You think I’ll be turned off at seeing your body?”
He nodded. “I can barely stand to look at myself in a mirror, so I can’t imagine—”
She put her fingers over his lips. “I’ve already seen you with your shirt off. It hurts my heart what was done to you, but your body is beautiful, your scars a testament to your bravery and courage. Don’t feel shame for that.”
He had felt shame. Shame at allowing himself to be captured, and his most secret shame? That he’d been close to breaking, and he’d recognized it and knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Because the things he knew, if those secrets spilled from his lips, he would have put his team—his brothers—in danger. That wasn’t acceptable, and he’d made the decision to die. He’d managed to break off a small piece of the wall of his cell, the jagged edge sharp enough to slice open his wrists. All he was waiting for was night, when the guards wouldn’t be able to see him in the cell. His team found him that day.
If they’d been one more day in finding him, they would have been bringing his body home, and it shamed him that he’d been weak in mind and body. But maybe he had been a little brave in managing to hold out for two weeks of starvation and torture. Maybe that had taken a bit of courage.
The heaviness he’d carried in his bones, in his soul, were still there, but with her words...for the first time since being rescued, the weight of that burden was lighter. He could breathe easier.
He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, and when she gave him a soft smile, his heart turned over in his chest. She soothed his soul, had from the moment he’d held her in his arms and hadn’t wanted to crawl out of his skin. How was he going to give her up when the time came?
She lowered her hands to the hem of his shirt. “Let me see you, Dallas. All of you.”
“Okay, but feel free to tell me to put my shirt back on. I won’t be insulted.” He meant that, but it hit him that after what she’d said, he would be disappointed if she did ask.
“I won’t.”
He blew out a breath as he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. “Showtime.”
“So many,” she whispered as her gaze roamed over his scars. She shuddered. “I can’t begin to imagine the strength it took to survive what was done to you.” She trailed a finger down the worst scar on his chest. “But you’re beautiful, Dallas. And I’ll add sex on a freaking stick.”
He grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”
