Then he shifted, shrugging a pack off his back. He dug into it, pulling out things even more tempting than fifty-four screaming orgasms.
Warm clothes. Thick socks, heavy boots and a coat.
She moaned. A heavy coat, with a furry hood.
This fantasy just kept getting better and better.
A cold wind whipped through the room. Ice showered her back and freezing snowflakes flecked her hair and face.
Slowly, terrified if she moved too fast he’d disappear, Alexia raised her head off her arms.
He was still there.
She blinked.
He held out the socks and boots.
Wetting her lips, she hesitated. Then, having to know one way or the other, she reached out. The wool socks were like fire, hot and welcoming.
The boots waggled. Her gaze flew from the sturdy cold-weather footwear to the man’s face. He was real? He was here to rescue her?
Alexia’s mind couldn’t seem to take it in.
Thankfully, though, her body was all over the idea, grabbing the socks and yanking them over her frozen toes.
“You’re real?” she whispered, reaching out for the boots.
“As real as you are, sweetheart. Let’s get our asses in gear. We have five minutes before this place is blown to hell.”
She should be scared, shouldn’t she?
Or relieved?
Excited or ecstatic or grateful.
Maybe the weather had frozen her emotions, too, because she couldn’t feel a thing.
Except the cold.
Like moving through a dream, Alexia snuggled herself into the warmth of the white camouflage winter gear. Her brain was foggy as she tried to accept that Blake was real. The possibility that he was a figment of her desperate imagination didn’t stop her from following him to the window, though.
Her movements were stiff as she took his hand to help her climb onto the chair, wishing she could feel him through their thick gloves, her body feeling as if she’d just recovered from a vile flu.
He was real.
He was here.
She was rescued.
“Is there a team outside?” she asked. As much as she wanted out of this room, she knew there was an arsenal pointed at the window, armed guards who’d be thrilled to use her for target practice and a seriously strong chance that she’d break a leg crawling out a second-story window.
“We’re on our own,” he said quietly, stepping up to the window, too, and using his infrared binoculars to check the landscape. “There’s a rope hanging just outside the ledge. Do you see it?”
“On our own?”
How was that possible? SEALs operated in teams.
Suddenly her brain sparked to life. Like a limb waking, the tingles were painful as she tried to figure out what was going on.
“Where’s the rest of the team? Your backup?” It was unfortunate that her words came out shrill with an overtone of hysteria. But, well, she was pretty close to hysterical, so it was only to be expected.
“We’re the team, you and I. We’re not going to need backup because nobody’s going to be paying us any attention in—” he glanced at his watch again “—four minutes.”
He wasn’t hysterical. She frowned, peering at his face to try to see if his mellow certainty was an act or if he was really okay with being a one-man rescue show.
The more she looked, the calmer she became. As if she was absorbing his confidence and strength. Granted, he was almost completely shrouded in warm winter gear. But his voice, his stance, his entire persona were one hundred percent assured. He was trained for this, she told herself. He’d done hundreds, maybe thousands, of missions in much riskier situations. He’d served during wartime, for crying out loud.
But that was him.
She was pretty much a wimp.
“We’re really on our own?” she whispered. Then, with a shaky breath, she glanced at the rickety desk and sad stool. Maybe she should stay here.
“Do you trust me?”
Her gaze flew to his face. Covered in goggles, surrounded by a cinched hood, she could barely make out his features.
“Do you trust me?” he repeated.
Her heart sighed, even as terror clutched her guts. They’d have to sneak through a terrorist encampment filled with gleeful murderers to hide in a vicious snowstorm. Just the two of them, with no backup. No access to help. Nobody to rescue them if something went wrong.
Of course, if they stayed here, they’d be blown to bits in four minutes.
Alexia wet her parched lips, then nodded.
“I trust you.”
Blake moved closer. He took her right hand, so warm now inside its heated glove, and tucked it up inside the wristband of her coat. Then he did the same with the left.
Alexia’s body came awake much faster than her mind had. Warmth, not felt since the last time he touched her, slid through her body. Like liquid pleasure, it permeated, slowly trickling all the way to her toes.
He tugged on the zipper of her coat, snugging it up to just below her throat, then with hands so gentle she almost wept, he smoothed her hair away from her face and lifted the hood of the coat. The fabric was so thick, so warm. When he pulled the strings closed to cinch it tight around her face, she felt as if she was in a sound tunnel, the beat of her heart amplified in her ears.
He let go for just a second to reach into the pack and pull out a pair of goggle-like glasses, sliding them onto her nose. Then he tugged the zipper higher, snapping the front of the jacket tight so not a whisper of cold air could touch anything but the little bits of her face still exposed.
Alexia wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so protected. So cared for.
“Do whatever I tell you,” he said softly, his gaze intense as he stared into her eyes. “Stay low, follow in my exact steps. I’ll get you home safe and sound. I promise.”
Unable to believe otherwise when he was looking at her like this, she nodded.
“I need you to really trust me, Alexia. Not because I’m the lesser of two evils, but because you have complete faith that I’ll keep you safe. That I know exactly what I’m doing, that I’m damn good at it and that you know without a doubt that I’m going to get you out of here.”
The huge lump in her throat made it hard to swallow, so Alexia just nodded instead of speaking.
“You’re sure?”
She took a deep breath, then swallowed again. “I trust you, completely,” she promised breathlessly.
His smile was like the rising sun. Warm, vivid and beautiful. She melted. Then, his hands still on the zipper of her jacket, he tugged her closer. Bent his head and kissed her.
Oh, baby.
His lips were as soft, as delicious, as magical as she’d remembered. The kiss was short, way too short, but so sweet she would have cried if she wasn’t afraid the tears would freeze on her face.
He slowly pulled back, his eyes still locked on hers. Then he flicked a button in the side of the goggles, activating a buzzing in her ears. Communication device, she realized.
“What’s that for?” she whispered, her breath an icy mist between them. “Luck?”
“I don’t need luck, sweetheart. I’m the best.