Page 72 of Rescue Me (Tempting SEALs 6.10)

She had him there. Even though they were running for their lives, she knew he’d adhere to the “leave no trace” rules. He’d never have tossed a wrapper in the Canyon—which meant if there was one, it would be in one of his pockets.

“Just eat it. I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Okay, we can fight over this and risk letting Jake and Benny stumble onto us while we squabble over a snack or we can share. Your choice, but I’m not going anywhere until you get a protein fix.”

“We’re not in a courtroom, Elena,” he grumbled, reluctantly taking half of the power bar and popping it into his mouth.

“Nope. But I just won my case.”

“Only because I know what a sore loser you are.”

She grinned, slipped into her shorts then reached for her boots. “Said the pot to the kettle.”

He grunted.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, lacing up.

“Oh, yeah. The plan.” He made a big show of scratching his head. “Figured you’d want one of those.”

OKAY, NOW WAS NOT the time and this was certainly not the place, but all Elena could think about in the moment was that Seth King might very possibly be a man she could fall in love with.

“Whoa. He’s the one with the lump on his head, not you,” she muttered under her breath and watched him walk to the river’s edge and scoop water into his hands.

He washed his face and head with the cold river water, then dipped up more and drank from his cupped palms.

Sunlight glinted off water droplets clinging to his dark hair and tan throat as he hunkered there, the hard muscles in his calves and thighs bulging, the broad strength of his shoulders flexing. A heavy stubble darkened his square jaw, making him look even rougher. Tougher.

Raw.

The man was a force. As hard and inflexible as steel when it came to survival.

And yet … a thin strip of bare skin where his shirt rode up and away from the back of his waistband peeked at her. There his skin was soft. Soft and smooth and sensitive. Last night, in the middle of the night, her fingers had lingered there. Lingered and stroked, then clenched and knotted when he’d pumped into her with the power of a man on the edge.

Contrasts. Yeah. Seth King was a study in contrasts. And s

o much more than she’d given him credit for.

She dragged a hand through her tangled hair and thought about last night, in the depth of the night, when she’d lost herself in his arms. They’d both been on the edge. So on edge, Elena had opened herself up to him with an abandon that scared the hell out of her in the daylight.

She could think about that later. Later when they got out of this. If they got out of this.

For now, she had bigger, badder things to be afraid of. Like angry men with big guns …

The whoop, whoop, whoop of a distant helicopter had her jerking her gaze skyward.

“Shit,” Seth swore and searched the sky with her.

She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I don’t see it.”

“Not yet.”

“You don’t think it could be a park chopper?” she asked, reacting to his grim look.

“What I think is that we can’t afford to let whoever it is spot us before we figure out if they’re friend or foe.”

He hurried across the sandy riverbank, grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him. “Come on. It’s getting closer. Let’s tuck in beneath those willows and wait.”

They’d just folded themselves into the trembling leaves of a clump of struggling willows and tamarisks when a chopper zipped around a rock wall and into view. It flew low and slow along the length of the river, stopping to hover not fifty meters from their hiding place.

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