Page 6 of His Stormy Seduction

I can feel my cheeks heating with a flush that has nothing to do with physical exertion. God, what is wrong with me? This man pulled me from the jaws of death just an hour ago. The fact that I've now got indecent thoughts about licking rain droplets off those chiseled abs is... well, more than a little messed up, even for me.

"Dammit..." The gruff curse snaps me from my wandering thoughts. Garrett has gone rigid, his shoulders slumped in obvious frustration as he glares at the uncooperative generator.

"What is it?" I ask.

He lets out a low growl, swiping a hand over his rain-slick features. "Spark plugs are soaked through. I need to dry them off before I can get this old piece of junk fired up again."

“Okay,” I say, straightening up and leaning closer. "Tell me what to do."

For a long beat, he simply studies me through the harsh glare of the flashlight beam. Then, giving the smallest nod, he motions me over with a jerk of his chin. "Bring that light closer so I can see what I'm doing."

I crouch down beside him in the cramped space. Up close like this, I can smell the rich, earthy tang of rain-dampened skin mingling with the sharper scents of grease and metal. It's intoxicating in a very primal, visceral way.

"Here," he rumbles, handing me a set of heavy pliers. "I need you to pull the spark plug wires off, one by one, while I detach the plugs themselves."

I give a slight nod to show I understand before setting down the flashlight and leaning in close so he can guide my hands into the proper position. My arm brushes against his solid frame as I reach into the tight space beside him. The contact sends a shiver skittering along my nerves despite the heat radiating from his body.

We work in tandem, Garrett carefully twisting and extracting each spark plug, then handing them off to me to dry against my flannel while he tackles the next. At one point, our hands brush as he passes a damp plug into my waiting grip. An unmistakable spark of awareness crackles between us, so charged that it has every nerve-ending tingling. His jaw tenses almost imperceptibly, like he, too, felt that frisson of pure electricity.

But then the moment is broken as another deafening boom of thunder splits the air around us. We both startle slightly, the trance abruptly severed.

Garrett clears his throat, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he tears his gaze away. "Almost there," he mutters gruffly.

We resume our tasks, but the air now seems to hum and sizzle with an electric undercurrent. My pulse throbs with a heated intensity, skin feeling feverishly sensitive to every point where our bodies brush together.

As we work, he starts talking to fill the weighted silence, his deep voice washing over me with a strange sort of intimacy. Garrett shares bits and pieces from past rescue missions—harrowing tales of being caught in whiteout blizzards or racing against the clock to extract injured climbers from perilous crevasses.

I’m entranced by his quiet intensity, the way his entire being seems to come alive as he recounts these stories.

Without even realizing it, I find myself swapping my own stories as well—misadventures from my days shooting in the most remote and unforgiving corners of the globe. Garrett listens with rapt attention as I describe getting charged by a territorial grizzly in the Yukon or having to talk my way through an armed rebel roadblock to capture that one perfect shot.

When he calls me an adrenaline junkie, I shoot him a wry grin. "Guilty as charged. But you're one to talk, Mr. Daring Rescue Ranger."

He arches an eyebrow at me. "There's a big difference between risking your life for the thrill of it and risking it to save someone else's."

"Is there, though?" I counter. "We both crave that electrifying rush that comes with dancing on the edge of danger. You get your fix pulling people back from the brink, and I get mine by seeing how close to the brink I can get. So don't try to act all high and mighty about it.”

"Maybe you're right," he allows gruffly. "Maybe we're two sides of the same insane coin."

By the time we finish up with the last spark plug, I'm practically glowing with a strange sense of connection. Like some fundamental piece of myself that's been missing has finally clicked back into place.

"That should do it," Garrett rumbles, carefully reassembling everything and closing the generator's casing. He straightens, giving me an appraising look through the harsh shadows. "Now we just have to hope this old beast still has some life left in her."

With that, he reaches for the choke and gives it a few decisive tugs. The generator coughs and sputters for a few agonizing seconds before that blessed whir of power finally kicks in with a throaty roar.

"Yes!" I can't help but cheer, shooting him a wide, triumphant grin.

His eyes crease at the corners, lips quirking upward in a rare, unguarded smile that transforms those chiseled features into something breathtaking. My heart literally skips a beat at the pure boyish charm of it, a warm rush blossoming in my chest.

"C'mon," he rumbles after a beat, gesturing for me to follow as he ducks back out into the pounding rain. "Let's get you back inside before you catch your death."

My lips curve into a slow, secret smile as I fall into step behind him, unable to shake the warmth blossoming in my chest. There's just something about this man that calls to the deepest, most primal parts of me. And I'll be damned if I'm not starting to enjoy the thrill of being taken care of, if only for a little while.

By the time we make it back to the cabin, we're both soaked to the bone once more. The instant we step over the threshold, I can feel the blessed heat from the woodstove beckoning, wrapping around me with welcoming tendrils.

A shiver wracks my frame as I move closer to the flames. Behind me, I can hear the sound of the generator kicking on, the lights flickering back to life and casting a warm, golden glow through the space.

I turn to see Garrett straightening from the switch, eyes finding mine immediately in that uncanny way of his. The air between us seems to grow thick and heated, charged with that same searing awareness from the shed.

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