Page 15 of A SEAL's Protection
“How did you know the river was here?” Allegra turns to me accusingly. “You knew we were coming to a dead end, and you didn’t tell me.”
Her eyes bore into mine, and I notice how they’re flecked with amber when she’s angry.
“It’s not a dead end.”
I reach around her for the rope, and the ledge is so cramped that my body bumps up against hers. The effect is electric, as if a shock’s gone through my body. I grasp the rope to steady myself as Allegra gasps. I’m not sure if it’s because she felt it too, or because she noticed the rope and realized how we get out of here.
“Can you climb?”
She presses her lips together and squints up at the cliff face.
It’s about twelve feet high with jagged edges that are good for climbing holds, but sharp if you don’t know what you’re doing. And far below is fast-moving water.
“I’ve never been rock climbing if that’s what you mean,” Allegra admits. “But how hard can it be?”
She presses her lips together in a determined line and gives a tug on the rope. Before I can stop her, she grabs it with both hands and plants her left foot on the rock face.
“Whoa, hold your horses.”
I grasp the rope above her hands, blocking her climb. “Do you have a harness?”
She glares at me before shaking her head. “No. I didn’t bring one. There wasn’t any mention of this kind of terrain on the route.”
She looks away at her admission, and I realize that she’s frustrated with herself, not me.
“I can make you a temporary one,” I tell her.
I examine the rope. It’s frayed in parts but looks sturdy enough. The anchor points I can see are rust free and seem to be secure. But I’m not taking anything for granted.
I drop my pack and pull out my climbing harness and carabiners. I slip into my harness, then grab a coil of tubular webbing from the pack.
“I’m going to make you a harness. It’s called a Swiss Chair.”
She eyes the coil of webbing. “Out of that?” She shakes her head. “It won’t hold my weight.”
She looks me dead in the eye as if challenging me to disagree. She’s not looking for compliments. She’s stating what she thinks is a fact.
“This is military grade. It’s held men twice your size and triple your weight.” I hold up the coil, and she hesitates.
“Or we go back.”
She glares at me, then nods. “Fine.”
I crouch down and thread the cord between her thighs, then bring it around her hips. My palms brush her thighs, and her breath hitches. My fingers brush against her soft curves, leaving my fingertips tingling at every touch. I wonder what she feels like under her leggings. How smooth her thighs are…
I grit my teeth and force my mind back to the mission.
Keep it professional,I remind myself.
“Your throne is ready.”
I stand up and give the improvised Swiss Chair a firm tug. Allegra lurches forward and bumps into me, and I get a moment of her body pressed against mine, the scent of chamomile and her feminine softness.
Then she straightens up, and the moment is gone.
“Get your pack back on and I’ll clip you in.”
She does as I ask, and I clip myself onto the rope.
