He would provide that coaxing.
“Breakfast is ready,” he said, setting the food on top of the cooler. “But first I’ll need to see your wound. Gotta change the dressing.” He moved to sit by her on the bed.
“Okay.” She sat up and slid her leg outside the quilts.
With both hands, he glided the fabric of her pants up past her knee, making sure his warm hands slid along her skin. With care, he peeled away the bandage. The wound was healing. Deliberately he smiled gently into her eyes. “Looks good.”
From the first aid kit, he pulled out fresh gauze and tape and took his time replacing the old dressing. It became necessary to hold her soft calf with one hand in order to cover the wound. “Does it hurt?”
“Only if I bang it into something or move too much,” she answered. “The gauze is helping protect it.” She eyed his face. “So, can we leave today? Are those kidnappers gone?”
He hesitated. “Maybe we can go tonight,” he said, “or maybe in the morning,” knowing full well they would have to leave when dusk fell.
There was lots of time between then and now, many hours of pleasure possible during the interim.
He pulled her pants leg down over the dressing and scooted closer to her on the bed. Smoothing a strand of hair off her face, he said, “Becca, somehow we got off on the wrong foot. I like you. You didn’t deserve to be stolen away. You deserve to be delivered home.” He was surprised to find that he meant it. He caressed her slim shoulders. “Remember, I promised to get you back to your dad, and I will.” He tried to project sincerity through his gaze.
As she returned his look, he saw the first hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
It was all the opening he needed. Grateful women could at times be convinced to lie down.
“You’re welcome,” he said, easing her back into the pillows. Using his fingers, he tilted up her chin and smiled. Her brown eyes wide, she stared up at him, her lips parted. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Slowly, he lowered his head.
Chapter Nine
“Ihave to go pee,”Becca said.
“Ah.” Becoming increasingly certain that she would allow him inside her sexy body, Rio decided a small delay wouldn’t matter. He straightened. “Put on your sweatshirt and cap. I’ll take you out.”
With the mood broken, if only for a short time, Rio shrugged into his coat, and when she was ready, he took her hand.
She let him.
First, he insisted on scouting the area for the mountain lion. Only when he found no sign of it did he allow Becca outside.
In the snow, they walked together to the now familiar underbrush. “I’ll get the scooter back over here and cover it with the tarp. Call me when you’re ready.”