Page 71 of Rescue Me (Tempting SEALs 6.10)

He dressed in silence, reached in a zippered pocket for the power bar he knew he’d find there.

“Thanks, Pop,” he whispered. It was a lesson his father had taught him early on. Along with his Leatherman, he’d taught him to never be without food on his person in the Canyon. It was a beautiful but treacherous place. You never knew what was going to happen.

“Amen to that,” he muttered and turned back to Elena.

His heart literally skipped.

Holy, holy God. Would you look at her?

She was curled up on her side, as naked as the morning, as breathtaking as the spill of sunlight crawling down the canyon walls. It broke his heart that her smooth and flawless honey-gold skin was marred by nasty bruises from her tussle with the rocky river.

Hunkering down beside her, feeling an unaccustomed tenderness, he brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, smiled when she opened her eyes and saw him there.

“Morning,” he said. “Again.”

Totally uninhibited in her nakedness, she made another one of those sexy, sleepy sounds and sat up with a catlike stretch.

“Oh, man,” she said around a yawn. “You get the license number of the truck that hit me?”

He grinned. “And here I thought we’d had a good time last night.”

She breathed deep, plowed both hands into her tangled hair and dragged it away from her face. Looked at him. “You’re dressed.”

He handed over her clothes—with a whole helluva lot of reluctance. The picture of her sitting there, naked and glorious with it, would be burned in his brain until the next millennium. “We need to get a move on. Sorry.”

She nodded, looked self-conscious suddenly as she reached for her bra. “And I did, by the way. Have a good time,” she said quietly when his brows furrowed. “Well, except maybe for the part about being tied up and held at gunpoint, and getting pushed off a cliff and almost drowning,” she added with a fatalistic little smile.

God-all Friday. He could fall for this woman. Seriously. She had the courage of a lioness and an amazing ability to find humor even in the depths of this very dangerous situation.

“You’re something else, Martinez.” He was waiting for her when she poked her head out from the neck of her shirt. Kissed her lightly. “One hot, tough cookie.”

“You’re … something yourself,” she said, then kissed him back. “How’s the head?”

“There. But I’ll live.”

“Could you live better with these?” She fished into a zippered pocket of her pants and came up with a little waterproof plastic pouch. Inside were a couple of Band-Aids, a tiny tube of antibiotic ointment and a tin of ibuprofen.

“I think I love you,” he said, greedily taking the pain tablets she offered him.

“Just wish I’d remembered I had them last night.”

She made him sit then carefully applied ointment to the gash on his head.

“Ouch. Easy. And don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve had a few things on your mind.”

Like running for her life, he thought as she gently finished dressing the wound.

Like making love to him with a hot and desperate sweetness he knew he’d never forget—not in this lifetime.

“I have something for you, too.” He reached into his pocket then handed her the power bar he’d taken out earlier.

“Oh, my God. Just ignore me if I drool, okay?”

She unwrapped it, broke it in two and handed the big half to him.

He shook his head. “Already had mine,” he lied. He’d be fine. She, however, needed some protein.

“Anyone ever tell you you can’t lie worth a darn?” she challenged, still holding out the bar to him. “Unless you can show me the wrapper to prove you ate another one, there’s no way I’m going to eat this entire thing.”

---