Page 60 of Searching Blind

Lucy followed them in, having to hunch over in the low space. The earthen floor was hard-packed and dry. Sawyer sank down against the back wall with a groan, stretching his right leg out in front of him and rubbing at his thigh.

“Your leg bothering you?” she asked and knelt beside him.

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, of course. I always limp when my leg’s fine, too.”

He exhaled, long and slow. “Okay, yeah. It’s bothering me. I jammed my knee on something in the river. And my ribs. And my shoulder. And… every other part of me. But I will be okay. I just need to rest for a bit.”

“Then let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” She helped him shrug out of his jacket. The thin material of his T-shirt clung to his chest and back, outlining the sculpted planes of muscle. Her fingers itched to trace them, to feel the warm, living heat of his skin…

But she resisted the urge, instead focusing on wringing out the excess water from his jacket. “Take off your shirt.”

“This is not how I wanted you to get me naked again.” He winced as he pulled off the T-shirt, and her heart lodged in her throat. His back and shoulder were an ugly patchwork of purple and blue.

“Jesus, Sawyer.” She reached out, fingertips hovering over the mottled skin, afraid to touch him and cause more pain. “Why didn’t you say something?”

He shrugged, then winced. “What could you do about it except worry? I’ll be fine.”

She bit her lip, unconvinced. Those contusions looked serious. He could have other internal injuries. He needed a doctor, x-rays, pain meds. Things she couldn’t give him stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.

Pushing to her feet, she grabbed his wet clothes and draped them over branches outside the shelter. She peeled off her own wet shirt and pants, teeth chattering as the breeze hit her damp skin. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh, and her nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of her bra. She draped her clothes next to Sawyer’s, hoping the summer breeze would dry them quickly.

Ducking back into the lean-to, she found Sawyer struggling to unlace his boots, his face pinched with pain. While she was gone, he’d laid out the phones on a rock to dry, but she doubted that would do much to improve their functionality.

She knelt beside him again, gently nudging his hands away. “Let me.”

She made quick work of the knots, easing the boots off his feet. His socks squished when she peeled them off. She set them in the sun with the rest of their clothes, then turned her attention to his soaked pants.

He sucked in a sharp breath when she reached for his fly, his abdominal muscles contracting as her fingers brushed against his stomach. She paused, looking up at him through her lashes. His pale blue eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips parted.

Desire, hot and fierce, lanced through her. She wanted to press her mouth to his, to taste him, to feel his naked skin against hers again.

“Easy, Luce,” he murmured, voice strained, and wrapped a hand around her wrist. “You can’t look at me like that. It’s torture.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want to lick me like a popsicle.”

She did want to lick him. She wanted to wrap her mouth around his big cock and suck until he was writhing with a mix of pain and pleasure. The mental image made her pulse throb, heat curling low in her belly, her panties going damp.

“How do you know that?” she asked a little too breathlessly.

“Your breathing changed. Your touch changed.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper, fingers tightening on her wrist. “And as much as I would love for you to have your way with me, I’m not exactly in fighting shape at the moment.”

He was right. Now wasn’t the time. They needed to focus on survival, not sex, but it was difficult with the memories of last night so fresh in her mind.

Dragging in an unsteady breath, she lowered her gaze and finished unzipping his pants, all business. “I'm not trying to turn you on. I'm trying to help, and these need to come off. You can’t get warm with wet clothes on. Lift your hips.”

He braced his hands on the ground and pushed up with a low grunt of pain. Together, they worked the wet cargo pants down his legs, which were almost as bruised as his back. The fabric clung to his muscular thighs and calves, and she had to tug to get them off.

Finally, he was naked except for a pair of black boxer briefs. She tried not to stare at the impressive outline of his cock straining against the thin, wet fabric. He was beautiful, even battered and bruised. She swallowed hard and averted her gaze, draping his pants over a branch outside before ducking back into the shelter.

Sawyer had his eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Zelda curled up at his side, her head resting on his thigh. Her heart clenched. He looked so vulnerable, so human. Not the cocky, self-assured charmer he pretended to be. Seeing him like this, stripped bare in more ways than one, made her want to wrap herself around him and never let go.

“Some second date, huh?” His voice rumbled in his chest, laced with exhaustion and pain he couldn’t quite hide.

“Oh, come on, this is at least our third.”

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