Page 60 of Mountain Captive

The water sloshed as Rand shifted, and then something soft and slightly ticklish glided over her body. She started to open her eyes and sit up. “Relax,” he said. “Keep your eyes closed. Enjoy your bath.”

She decided the soft and ticklish thing was a soapy sponge he was using to caress first her shoulders, then her breasts. The sponge coasted across her stomach and stroked her thighs, then traveled down her legs to her foot and her toes. She suppressed a giggle as Rand soaped each digit, then slid his hand up the back of her leg, gently massaging. He did the same to the other leg. His touch was gentle but firm, enjoyable but not exactly relaxing.

She wasn’t sure when he replaced the sponge with his hands, but she realized it had happened when he began stroking between her thighs, caressing her sex, stoking the passion that began to build.

A moan escaped her, and she opened her eyes and stared at him. His eyes locked on hers, the heat in his expression scorching. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No.” Her answer came out barely audible. She cleared her throat. “No.” But even as he continued to tease her, she straightened and wrapped her hand around his erection.

His reaction was immediate and gratifying—a widening of his eyes and a renewed alertness. His hand stilled as she began to stroke him. “Do you want me to stop?” she teased.

“No.” But his hand moved from between her legs to her shoulders. He pulled her forward until she was resting on top of them, water sloshing over the edge of the tub as she moved.

“The floor’s getting wet,” she said.

“That’s not the only thing,” he said as he slid two fingers inside her.

There she went, giggling again. Definitely not like her. But being with Rand did that—made her feel like someone else. Someone freer and happier than she had ever been.

They kissed again, hands exploring, caressing, teasing as their lips tasted and nipped and murmured appreciation. “That feels so good.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

A second tidal wave of water sloshed over when she moved to crouch over him. “Maybe it’s time to take this to the bed,” she said.

“Good idea.”

They helped each other out of the tub; then he insisted on toweling her off, the plush but slightly rough surface of the towel gliding over sensitive nerve endings, ramping up her arousal. He paused to suck first one nipple, then another, a delicious torture that had her squirming.

At last he raised his head, grinning. She realized he had taken the time to shave, the stubble that had grown in the past two days erased, replaced by smooth skin. “Let me get a condom,” he said, and opened a drawer beside the sink.

His bedroom was dark and cool, the bed soft, the scent of lavender and vanilla drifting out with the steam from the bathroom. But she only noted these details in passing. Her focus was on him as he lay beside her and pulled her into his arms. They stared into each other’s eyes. She didn’t let herself look away, as she might have done before. Whatever there was to see in her, she wanted him to see it.

“Why did you come looking for me?” she asked. “By yourself, I mean, instead of part of the official search.”

“I thought I knew where to find you, and I didn’t want to wait on the others.”

“But why look at all?” she asked. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“Because I love you,” he said.

She flinched at the words. She tried to hide her reaction, but he couldn’t miss it. “Does that scare you, when I say it out loud?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted.

“You’re strong enough to face your fear,” he said.

“Yes, I am.” But the wonderful thing about being with Rand was that she didn’t have to be strong. She didn’t have to fight or resist or do anything. She could relax and surrender without giving up anything.

So she did. She smiled and closed her eyes. She allowed him to touch her in all the ways that felt good, and she did the same for him, until they came together with urgency and need. She gave herself up to the building passion and the incredible release that followed.

Afterward, she lay curled in his arms, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But it feels good.” She hadn’t allowed herself many tears over the years, afraid they made her look weak. Rand had taught her to see things differently. Feeling wasn’t a weakness, and being vulnerable wasn’t wrong. She would have to practice to fully believe those things, but she was willing to make the effort.

THEYHADBEENasleep for a while when Rand woke to Harley’s frantic barking. “What is it?” Chris asked.

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