Eye of the Beholder (12 page)

Something cold and wet touched his forehead. He snatched it off and tried to get up.

“Rafe, no!” A weight fell across his chest. “You’re dreaming. Stop.”

Oh, God, he wanted to stop. It hurt. So much. He felt the panic seize his lungs, just as it had before. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t help anyone.

“Rafe, it’s okay, it’s okay.” The weight was soft and warm and spread over his body. “Please, you’re worrying me.”

He wanted to answer. The voice sounded so scared. But if he stopped now he wouldn’t find John. Perfect, lovable John. And he wanted to save John, didn’t he?

Didn’t he?

Yes. He must want to save him. What kind of monster would let his brother die?

The red haze that clouded his vision suddenly lifted. There he was! It would be all right. John was on the front porch, sitting on the rag. He was spinning a football in his hands, tossing it in the air and catching it so it made that solid thumping sound. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and grinned at Rafe. Dad had told him to get a haircut, but John had said it would be bad luck to cut his hair before the game. He hadn’t left yet. It wasn’t too late.

“John, don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.”

But John swung his long legs over the railing and hopped to the lawn. He gave Rafe’s shoulder a punch as he walked past.

“No, Johnny. Wait!”

The high school was at the end of the street. He could see the bus waiting in the parking lot.

“No.” Rafe tried to catch him, but his body wouldn’t move. He couldn’t let it happen.
“No!”

It did happen. Over and over again. The crash. The water. The blood. He felt John’s hand, but he couldn’t hang on. He didn’t hang on. Oh, God, why didn’t he hang on? “I’m sorry, Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“Shh, Rafe.” The weight on his chest shifted. The scent of flowers and citrus wafted past his lips. “It’s all right.”

His throat stung. His eyes burned. He felt his temples grow wet. “Sorry.”

Gentle fingers stroked his skin, wiping away his tears. Soft as a butterfly, a kiss settled on his shredded cheek.

The red haze returned. Rafe felt himself spinning backward. He latched on to the woman. He couldn’t save Johnny.

But he would save her.

The night was endless. Glenna was afraid to sleep. Each time her eyes drifted closed she woke with a start and stumbled to the pool to wring out the compresses. Rafe no longer struggled to get up, but it wasn’t a sign he was getting better. The fever was raging unchecked and had drained him of strength. He no longer recognized her or heard her. He was caught in the past.

It had taken her a while to piece together the story. His words had been disjointed and hard to understand at times, but eventually the picture had begun to emerge from his ramblings.

She had wanted to know how he’d gotten his scars. Now she did. But she hadn’t wanted to learn it like this. Each time he relived that accident, he relived the suffering. Not just the physical pain of having his face mutilated, but the emotional pain of losing his brother.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with compassion. She wouldn’t tell him that he’d cried—she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to witness it. Because now that she had, she would never regard him the same way again.

This was why he was so determined to be a hero. It was why he’d joined Delta Force and rescued people for a living. He believed he’d failed his brother.

“Oh, Rafe.” She leaned over him, tracing the white ridges on his cheek with her fingertips. “Why can’t you see the man you are? You deserve to be happy.”

He didn’t respond. She hadn’t expected him to. if he’d been awake, he wouldn’t have listened. Yet she’d heard the torment in his voice when he’d called John’s name. She’d seen the agony on his face as he’d remembered the accident. She knew Rafe would have done everything humanly possible to save his brother. Even in his delirium, the love he felt for John was obvious.

“That’s why you push people away,” she said. “You don’t want to risk loving anyone because it hurts so much to lose them.”

She rubbed her lips across his scars. These were only the scars she could see. She wished she could help him heal the ones inside, the ones on his heart.

How long did it take to fall in love? A year? A month? Was it possible to fall in love at first sight? And would she recognize love if it happened? Was that the connection she’d sensed between them? Was the bond she felt love?

She wasn’t sure. She’d worked so hard at not loving anyone, she hadn’t had any practice.

She picked up a fresh cloth and passed it over his shoulders. She’d stripped off his clothes during her efforts to cool him down. He hadn’t objected to the intimacy, he hadn’t even been aware of it. His body was completely lax.

She flipped the cloth over and moved it across his chest. “That’s why you went swimming yesterday,” she murmured. “You were trying to lower your temperature.” The signs had been there, she simply hadn’t seen them. She’d only seen his gorgeous body.

And it was gorgeous. Oh, Lord, he was like a living, breathing sculpture. He was so…male. Everywhere.

Was there something wrong with her because she could think of him as a man at a time like this? Was it a sign of some moral defect if she couldn’t ignore the appeal of his body even when he was so vulnerable? Or was it all part of the way she felt?
Was
it love?

She’d worry about that when he woke up. If he woke up. Oh, God, he had to wake up.

Glenna’s gaze skimmed down to his left thigh. The redness around the wound appeared less intense. It was difficult to tell whether it was due to the weak light from the fire she’d managed to build or from her own desperate need to see improvement. She felt a twinge of despair as she tossed aside the cloth. It was already too warm to do any good. She had to do more.

She looked at the damp spots the compresses had left on her clothes, then looked at Rafe. A crazy idea rose in her brain. If he’d been cold, she would hold him to share her warmth. But if she wanted to cool him down… She got to her feet and limped to the pool. She unlaced her boots and waded into the water, then took a deep breath and dived in. It was colder than she’d remembered. She surfaced with a gasp and lunged for the shore. With her hair streaming wet and her clothes dripping, she hurried back to Rafe and draped herself on top of him.

The heat from his skin warmed her almost instantly. She waited until her clothes began to dry, then went back to soak herself again. For the rest of the night she repeated the process until she no longer had the strength to get up. She stretched out beside him and fitted her head to the hollow of his shoulder. She would close her eyes for just a minute or two….%”>

It was another dream. Unlike most of the dreams, though, Rafe didn’t want to wake up from this one. Slim arms were wrapped around his shoulders. He felt the tickle of soft hair on his chin and warm breath on his neck. Someone was holding him as if they really cared. He inhaled slowly and felt a jog of recognition.

Glenna. Why was she holding him? Where were they? Had he fallen asleep? The two hours must be up. They had to move, they had get out of this storeroom…

No, they had already gotten out. The jeep had run out of gas. They’d slid down the stream. He’d lanced his wound. Was it yesterday? The day before?

He felt sunlight on his eyelids. He heard the rustle of leaves and the buzz of insects. He stretched experimentally. His muscles ached, every joint was stiff, but the agony in his thigh had faded. His improvised field first-aid must have worked. All right. He needed to get moving.

But Glenna’s arms felt so right and her body fit so snugly against his where she stretched out beside him that he didn’t want to leave yet. He would stay for another minute.

“Rafe.”

He wasn’t sure she’d spoken his name. It had been half sigh, half whisper. He parted his lips but no sound came. He ran his tongue over them and tried again. “Yeah?”

Her body tensed. Her weight shifted as she raised her head from his shoulder. “Rafe?”

He opened his eyes. He squinted against the daylight and tried to focus on Glenna’s face.

She stared at him, her mouth agape. She put her hand on his forehead, then twisted her arm and used the underside of her wrist. “It’s gone!”

“What?”

“Your fever. Thank God!”

The skin under her eyes looked bruised. He frowned. “Are you okay? You…look tired.”

She smiled. “Now I know for sure you must be awake. You’re worrying about me.”

“What…” He coughed. “What day is it?”

She sat up and reached for their water bottle. She gave him a drink, then moved her hands to his cheeks to frame his face. Her lips trembled. “I don’t know, Rafe. I’ve lost track. How about that? No day planner and everything goes crazy. How are you feeling?”

“Not sure,” he mumbled.

“Your leg’s getting better. It isn’t anywhere near as red and the swelling’s gone down and—” She caught her breath on a sob.

He tried to sit up. “Glenna?”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “You’re going to be all right. I’d thought you were dreaming again, but you’re really with me this time.” Her lips skimmed over his temples to the ridge of his cheekbone. “You’re really getting better.”

“Looks like it.”

She rubbed her against his. Even through the scar tissue he could feel the warmth of her tears.

He caught her chin. “Glenna? You’re crying.”

She hiccuped and dipped her head to kiss his knuckles. “It seemed to go on forever. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“I promised I’d get you out of this.”

“I know, but that’s not what I meant. I…” She paused. “Oh, Rafe.” She brought her mouth to his.

It wasn’t like the first time they had kissed. There were no demands, only giving. It was warm and gentle, flitting across his lips like the sunlight on his skin. Her mouth still trembled. Her whole body was starting to shake. She inhaled sharply and pressed her face to his neck.

He wanted to ask her what the matter was. He had to get up and get them moving. But he didn’t resist as her weight eased him back to the ground. He decided to stay where he was for just another minute.

Because oh, man, she felt so good. Her hair was cool and damp where it spread over his chest. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her closer. Her clothes were damp, too. He could feel every button in her shirt and every wrinkle of her pants as she moved against his bare skin…

His awakening senses were jolted into a different kind of awareness. Bare skin? What had happened? How had he ended up naked? Why was she wet?

And what the hell did it matter? He was alive, and the beautiful woman he’d wanted for days was plastered to the front of his naked body. How much more alive could he get? He lowered his head to her hair, closing his eyes as he drank in her scent. Snatches of the dreams that had haunted him stirred in the back of his mind, but he pushed them aside. No room for them now, not with Glenna trembling in his arms. He spread his fingers over her back, pulling her closer, and lowered his hands.

This felt so good, maybe it was a dream. He skimmed past the gentle dip at the small of her back and cupped her buttocks. Under those men’s pants she was all woman. Round and firm and generous enough to fill his hands. He moved his palm over her hip to her waist and reached for the bow of her improvised belt.

She might have said something then. He felt her breath puff across his throat. But his pulse was thudding too hard for him to hear her. He tugged the bow loose and slipped his hand inside her pants.

He groaned at the softness as he stroked her stomach. He slid his palm downward brushing over her tight, feminine curls. He’d felt this before, too. He knew what she liked. He moved his fingers.

Her breath caught. She tilted her hips to give him better access.

His body hardened instantly. If he’d been thinking straight, he might have been surprised at the strength of his reaction. But he wasn’t letting himself think. And he wasn’t surprised. He’d already realized he’d have to be dead not to react to Glenna.

“Rafe?”

The blood that pounded through his veins was making his head start to spin again, yet he didn’t stop. He heard the yearning in her voice and
couldn’t
stop. He tugged her pants down past her knees and rolled on top

She wriggled beneath him. She wasn’t trying to get away, she was kicking free of her pants. She clutched his shoulders. “Oh, Rafe. Yes.”

He settled between her thighs. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was sure there were reasons he shouldn’t do this, but after the pain and the nightmares, he needed Glenna’s sweetness like he needed air. Once before, he’d given her what she needed. Now it was her turn. He dug his fingertips into her buttocks, angled her to meet him and thrust forward.

The power of Rafe’s entry sent Glenna sliding across the ground. Her hair caught under her shoulders. Her back scraped over a broken twig. She heard a bird screech and flap noisily from a tree overhead.

She didn’t care. She was right where she wanted to be. With Rafe. She wrapped her arms around his back, whimpering as he withdrew, sighing as he filled her again. It was fast and raw, as primitive as their surroundings. But after twenty-four hours of touching him, bathing him, lying on top of him, it was what she needed.

They fell into a rhythm as easily as if they’d been lovers for years. No words were spoken. The world became a blur of his body sliding over hers, of his breath on her neck, of the scent of skin and sex and the ripe heat of the jungle.

She arched her back as the pleasure burst over her. Yet it was more than pleasing. It was…right. As precious as water in a desert, as inevitable as thunder following lightning. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she heard him say her name. She blinked and focused on his face.

His limbs stiffened. He shuddered once, twice, then gathered her to his chest and rolled to his side.

His eyes drifted closed. Yet just before his breathing slowed into the steady cadence of sleep, he did something that sent Glenna soaring through another climax.