Page 19 of Worthy

“We’ll be fine if you climb on my back, Solo. That’s the only way we’re getting down before it’s fully dark.” He points toward my foot to support his argument.

My shoulders sink as I realize he makes a good point. Plus, he called me Solo, and even though I hate that nickname, I kind of like the familiarity of it.

“Fine.” I wrap my arms around his neck and push off with my good foot and wrap my legs around his waist so he can hold them to secure my weight, which he does with a little grunt.

“See? I’m too heavy. You’re grunting.”

“I’m not grunting because you’re heavy,” he says with gritted teeth.

He takes a step forward as I do my best to hold still, a futile attempt to ignore the fact our position has my cock pressed against the top of his ass.

Do not get hard. Do not get hard. Do not get hard.

“Then why?” I push.

“Be quiet and let me concentrate. It’s getting dark and I need to watch the trail so I don’t take us both out.” He huffs out a ragged breath, conversation clearly over.

I can do nothing but hang on as we make our way back down, only hanging on means his back is creating way too much friction on my dick. My ankle may be throbbing, but it’s only one body part giving me trouble right now.

I plead to whoever might be listening that Cade’s too focused on walking to notice. Just in case there’s no divine help available, I flex my legs to put about an inch of space between us, so each step isn’t squeezing my denim covered length. Too bad the strain of thatposition, and the electric buzz filling the void between us, has my heartbeat accelerating in my chest.

It's not the first time that’s happened—our banter sometimes makes my heart race—but I always assumed that was because I needed to think quickly, which always gives me a little adrenaline. Right now, I’m not doing much thinking at all, yet that pesky organ is beating in double-time, and I’m starting to suspect it’s because of the man himself, who’s warm skin I feel through his thin shirt.

I know I’m attracted to Cade, but I’m attracted to lots of guys who don’t make my heart race. Is this… Could I be starting tolikehim?God save me.

The thought isn’t as unappealing as it would’ve been a few days ago, though.

We reach the parking lot as the last of the sun fades, leaving the sky a hazy purple. Cade sets me down gently next to the car so I can lean against it, though as I reach for my pack to retrieve my keys I realize mine is the only car here.

“Where’s your truck?” I swing my head around, alarmed. Katah Vista is notoriously safe, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any crime.

“Deacon took it. I told him to go on ahead while I waited to make sure you were okay.” He grabs my bag and fishes through it for my keys, opening the passenger door I’m only now realizing is right next to me.

Shit. First, he carries me down the trail, and now, he’s driving me home? For someone who likes his independence, both are fucking embarrassing.

We make the drive in silence, and once we’re back at the house, Cade insists on helping me hobble inside. We head straight to the couch where he gingerly removes first my shoe, then the bandage.Cupping my ankle with a gentle touch, he probes for the source of the pain.

“Sorry, Solo,” he says when I wince. “I know this hurts but I need to see how bad it is before I give you anything for it. Can you handle me looking?”

“It doesn’t hurt when you do that.” I shake my head to emphasize the point. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

I’m mostly telling the truth. The area is a little tender, but it was his touch that made me flinch, since it was accompanied by an electric current that shot straight to my cock.

I’m not sure he believes the pain is tolerable, though. Cade gives me a weak smile and turns back to my ankle, having me point and flex my toes as best I can. I’m not sure what that tells him, but he concludes the injury is probably just a sprain that will heal with rest. And after grabbing me some ibuprofen, he wraps my ankle again, ‘to push the swelling out.’

“How did you learn to do all this?” I ask as he grabs some ice from the freezer.

“Everyone in this town knows how to do this.” He grabs a dish towel to wrap around the bag of ice. “Guarantee every one of us has sprained or broken something, and most of us have done enough damage to require surgery.”

“Have you?”

He sets my foot on a pillow and arranges the ice around it.

“Yep. Right knee. ACL.” He shows me a scar lining his kneecap. “Most everyone here has a scar just like this. Or four little circles around your kneecap. These days, I think they can fix it without having to open things up.”

I shudder at that. “Why does everyone have these scars?”

He sits on the couch, just beyond my bandaged foot. “Having too much fun, pushing the limits,” he shrugs.

---