Page 38 of Brawler
“So, I’m what?”
“Chaotic, stubborn, independent to a fault. I don’t understand you sometimes, especially when it comes to danger.” She heard it threaded through his words in the lines of that big, beautiful body, and it hit her. This wasn’t about her at all. Thiswas about his need to be essential, and didn’t that fit perfectly for a Navy SEAL? Capable. Big. Strong. Skilled. Trained.
She stepped closer to him. “We’re in this together, Brawler. You, me, Beast.”
His features softened when she included his dog. Beast tilted his head in the most adorable way. It was clear she wasn’t just falling for his big handler. “You really should have been named Fluffems.”
“Emily….”
“What? Look at him.”
Brawler looked down and growled, “No wardog should be namedFluffems. He’s a badass.”
“Exactly. It’s like when you call someone heavy-set Tiny or someone thin Jumbo.”
He chuckled. She loved that he was doing that more often. He was larger than life, and he filled her up with his presence. It made her giddy sometimes…joyful not just to argue with him, but in these moments when he was being so…him. Something cracked through her, something that made her mind buckle and her heart stall.That’s not for you to have, a little voice said.That doesn’t belong to you, not after what you did.
He was the source of that joy. God, that scared her. He scared her because the more time she spent with him, the more she got to know this rough-and-tumble man, the more she wanted. Joy had been a stranger for so long she barely recognized it, and the part of her that hadn’t shriveled at her own harsh words hungered for more.
“Your screwball logic.” He shook his head, his eyes narrowing, steady, like he was reading her pulse through her skin.
“Is my own. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”
The humor slipped, replaced with something sharper, more attuned. It was unnerving, the way he could feel the shifts inher before she even spoke them. The giddy warmth, the crash of guilt, the hunger curling sharp under it had him reacting like he’d caught every jagged piece.
“Good,” he said roughly. “Don’t. The world’s got enough fakes.”
Her breath caught. For a moment she wondered if he even knew how tuned in he was, how precisely he could track her when she hadn’t said a word. Ben had never noticed. None of them had. But this man? He felt her. That sensitivity scared her almost as much as it drew her closer.
“I’m a master climber. Going through the rocks will be safer in the long run.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“I’m sure you could if you put your mind to it.” His mouth twitched, reluctant amusement cutting through his scowl. “Yeah, exactly.” She huffed out a breath, chafing against her own nature even as she heard the stubborn edge in her own voice. “Okay, Mother Hen, I’m sure you’re carrying rope. Tie it around my waist and yours, anchor us together. Does that soothe your maternal worry?”
For a second he just stared at her, the twitch of his mouth turning into something softer. Not just amusement. Something warmer, like he hadn’t expected her to meet him halfway.
She hiked up onto the first rise, boots finding purchase on the rough stone.
“Master climber, huh?”
“Inside and outside.”
“You mean one of those boutique climbing joints.”
“Yes.”
“And outside?”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Breakneck Ridge. Storm King. Anthony’s Nose. Bear Mountain. Palisades Interstate Park when I need a challenge.”
Behind her came a low whistle. “Christ. You weren’t kidding.” A pause. “I’ve climbed those.”Beast scrambled agilely up the stone as if the whole climb were nothing but a game.
Emily grinned, using momentum to haul herself higher. “See? Easy. I’m not just a tagalong.” She had her own strengths. Her muscles ached with effort, sweat running down her back, but the satisfaction of proving herself pushed her on, then the rope went tight and she stopped to look at him. He touched her shoulder, pushing her down. She followed his line of sight, and her blood ran cold. Ten men, all armed, mean-eyed and scanning, prowled the jungle below. Their hunters. She held her breath as they reached the rocks, frustration rolling off them when the tracks disappeared. After a tense moment, they moved on, fading into the green.
Emily turned back and her muscles went liquid. Brawler’s weapon was up, his whole body braced, lethal calm carved into every line. That profile, that strong jaw, the smooth column of his neck disappearing beneath camo, her hands itched to touch him, to see if his skin felt as soft as his hair. To see him stripped of all that heavy gear and nothing between them but heat.
She waited for him to relax, then turned, distracted by the man, not the SEAL, not the Neanderthal she’d named him, but the flesh-and-blood man ruling her nervous system. She placed her foot wrong and slipped.
