High Risk (13 page)

It was the thought of his touch—tongue, fingers, cock—that she wanted to send her
over. That wasn’t her pinching her sensitive nipples; it was Marcus using his teeth,
his bite taking her to the edge where pleasure and pain blurred. His hand trailing
between her legs to make her clit vibrate with need. His cock sliding deep into her,
stretching as he thrust again and again. Faster, harder. Becki pulled her knees wide
to the sides and felt him move over her, trapping her in position as he released the
wildness she’d seen in his eyes. The need.

For her.

Her orgasm took hold and shook her hard, making her gasp as her core pulsed around
a cock that wasn’t there. She breathed out and let the sensation roll through her,
wishing for more.

Aching for more.

She dropped the vibrator to the side and curled up, trying to imagine him at her back.
Surrounding her to keep the nightmares at bay.

CHAPTER
13

She moved smoothly across the floor, body-hugging workout gear covering her, thin-soled
climbing shoes on her feet. Marcus wondered if she was thinking about the previous
climb, worried how her mind might respond to the challenge today, but her restraint
was incredible. He could have asked her to join him for a cup of tea, she was so controlled
as she paced to the equipment cubicles and pulled out her harness, then buckled and
tightened without a word before turning to face him.

“Yes, sir. Where do you want me?”

Naked, in my bed
shouldn’t have been the first thought in his brain. “Pitch three. Nice and easy.
You’re going to use only the red route. We’ll see if having a focus will distract
you enough to finish the climb with no troubles.”

Becki snorted. “You don’t think much of my skills if you think sticking to the red
holds is enough to sidetrack me.”

He remained quiet as they both roped up. She lifted her chin to examine the route,
and he saw it. A shiver as she reached to grasp the wall.

Shivered, but still went forward. Marcus admired her a whole hell of a lot in that
moment.

“Wait. Put this on.”

He held out the fabric he’d brought with him, and a crease appeared between her brows.
“What’s that? A flag to wave when I’ve had enough?”

“It’s a blindfold. Put it on. Now.”

She swallowed. “But—”

“I’ll be your eyes. You have to trust me. And you’ll have to concentrate, because
once I tell you where a hold is? I’m not telling you again. You have to keep the location
and shape in mind for when you’ll need it for your feet.”

“You expect me to climb blind?” She wiggled the cloth. “You’re insane.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

A snort of amusement escaped her. She glanced at him, and for the first time real
fear showed in her eyes. “Marcus, what if . . .”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t question. Yourself, or me. Do it. Put on the blindfold,
Becki, and put yourself into my hands.”

Her tongue snuck out for a second, and he fought the urge to go catch her against
him and slip his own tongue along her lips. To taste her. To take. The headache that
had haunted him over the past days was gone, replaced with lust like he’d not experienced
in a long time.

He’d never had a cure like her around before.

Becki lifted her hands and pressed the dark material over her face, knotting the fabric
behind her head. “I’m not going to ask where you found the blindfold.”

He ignored the temptation to list the other toys he planned to use on her someday.
“Turn, right shoulder back.”

She straightened and took a deep breath, her chest moving too rapidly. “Marcus . . .
I—”

“My voice. Listen to it. Nothing else. I’m your anchor, and I won’t let anything happen
to you. Do you trust me?”

Her chin dipped briefly.

“Right shoulder back,” he repeated.

She obeyed, moving slowly, hands rising to shoulder height. “If I make it through
this unscathed, you should win some kind of award.”

He planned to be rewarded, all right. Just hadn’t decided exactly how much he was
going to take. “Stop. Right hand out. Finger hook hold at two o’clock.”

She caught it, then slipped her fingers all the way into the solid U-shaped hold.
“On belay?”

A mixture of pride and respect washed through him. Even changing up the rules, she
slipped back into climbing mode without hesitation. He could believe she’d done a
rescue on autopilot. “Belay on. Left hand, eleven o’clock. Shaped like a tennis ball.”

His voice echoed slightly in the wide-open space of the gym, her breathing creating
a systematic pulse under his words. He took her up the wall far slower than she’d
probably climbed for years, but she didn’t waver. Didn’t complain, either, thank God.
He made her pause at each position, adjust her weight.

Made her work her body and her brain, all the while hoping like hell she wasn’t about
to freeze again.

“Don’t rush. Right leg, extend another inch and you’ll have the hold. That’s it. Weight
transfer. Lift your other thigh. Picture where you left the sloper—it’s got a nice
flat surface for your foot.”

He talked her through a dozen more holds before she interrupted him. “Marcus. Can . . .
Can I just climb?”

“Without the blindfold?” He wasn’t sure about that. Success to fifteen feet wasn’t
full-out success.

“No, with. Only, no route. Talk me through if I can’t find a hold, but I like how
this feels. I’m itching to go faster.”

A stroke of adrenaline hit him: pride at her courage, familiar need in his own gut.
“Who am I to hold you back if you’re ready to fly?”

She twisted toward him and smiled, her mouth and chin the only parts visible under
the wide blindfold. Then she faced the wall and moved.

Marcus worked the rope silently, his voice silenced but ready to help if required.
Ready to coax or rant, depending on her need.

She didn’t need anything. Becki reached overhead, sliding her hands blindly. She skimmed
her fingers over each hold as she found them, testing the surfaces before moving to
the next. When she selected one she liked, she caught hold, adjusted her grip, and
rose. Her feet found new positions, the edges of her climbing shoes pressing against
the smallest of protrusions without a thought.

She was three-quarters of the way to the ceiling before he spoke. “Nicely done. You
have lovely technique.”

“Take,” she ordered.

He pulled up the slack and secured her in position. “Got. How you doing? Ready to
come down?”

Becki held the wall with one hand, the other wrapped easily around the rope as she
sat back and allowed him to support her weight. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Feels good?”

“Feels . . . weird.” Her lips twitched. “I can feel the air around me, but the only
clue I have of the height is your voice. And honest? I’m not ready to take the blindfold
off.”

“Then don’t. You achieved one goal. Accept it, celebrate it. Get in position and I’ll
bring you to earth.”

She faced the wall, legs spread, feet firmly in position. “Lower.”

He let the rope through the clamp slowly, easily, twisting to release it an inch at
a time. Becki walked her way to the floor and lay back on the mat, arms limp to the
sides. Blindfold still in place.

“Why do I feel as if I finished climbing a 5.11?”

“Good analogy. Until you get over this bump, everything is a freaking win. Got that?”

Marcus had the rope free from his harness in record time, stepping beside her, his
heart pumping with excitement. “Give me your hand.”

She raised her fingers in the air, and he caught her wrist. He lifted her to her feet
easily. When she would have pulled the blindfold away, he spoke.

“Stop.”

Becki paused, her hands on the fabric. “Umm, why?”

Because he was more than ready for the next stage. “Celebrating your successful climb.
You said if it worked, I got an award.”

He curled his hand around her neck and brought her mouth to his.

* * *

She’d known this was coming. Expected it. Not this instant, but soon. The fever between
them burned too hot to be ignored. After yesterday and the myriad of emotions they’d
gone through—anger, frustration, lust—she wanted this. Needed it.

Something to combat the terrors she’d experienced when he’d gone missing. The nightmares
and the fears that had swept in and threatened to overwhelm her. She shoved everything
aside for now. Inflamed by her success in overcoming at least one ghost, she pressed
against him eagerly.

The kiss started softly, just a meeting of lips, but like fire trickling along the
edge of a paper, heat and desire grew. Spread. He stroked her mouth with his tongue,
dipping in softly, testing her willingness.

His chest against hers was solid and hard, a barrier she couldn’t get around, and
one she didn’t want to avoid. When she parted her lips and let him in, a rush of adrenaline
made her light-headed. With the blindfold in place there was nothing to see, only
sensations. Nothing but their own ragged breathing to hear. The taste of his lips,
the feel of him under her touch.

She slipped her hands across his chest, savouring the way his muscles tightened as
she explored. The way he groaned and caught her around the waist with his left arm.
His tight grip brought their torsos into contact and the rising hardness of his erection
was clear, no matter how many layers of webbing there were between them.

He kissed her harder. Consumed her, pulsed his groin against hers and let his excitement
show in the way he took her mouth. Made her ache.

He tore his lips away only to press them to her throat, her neck, biting and nipping
his way along her body. His right hand slipped upward until he cupped her breast,
holding her intimately.

She arched into him. Needing. Aching. Wanting more, to take the rush of endorphins
from her climb and put them into stripping him and fucking him right there, damn the
consequences.

He tugged her shirt free, heated fingers skimming over her waist, coming back to jerk
her sports bra out of the way so he could take possession of her naked breast.

It was too much, and not enough. She twisted against him, rubbing until the webbing
of her harness caught his, and they were both trapped.

His fingers pinched her nipple and she moaned out her pleasure. Marcus dragged his
teeth up her neck, returning to capture her mouth yet again. Becki breathed him in.
Breathed in the scent of chalk dust in the air, the sweat of the climb, her lingering
fear.

God
, she wanted him.

When he slowed she whimpered in protest, the sound escaping louder than expected as
his lips left hers. He adjusted her bra, straightened her shirt, smoothed a touch
over her waist.

And stepped away, leaving her panting and wavering on her feet.

“Take off the blindfold.” The order whispered out, nonetheless commanding for the
volume.

She lifted her hands to undo the knot, knowing that she was flushed. Wondering what
she’d see on his face.

What she found made her breath shake as she fought to fill her lungs.

Pride.

Admiration.

Craving.

She was still reeling from his kiss. From the euphoria of the climb. From the way
following his every order had made her tingle with nearly forgotten satisfaction.

Seven years ago while he’d played her body like a fine instrument, he’d shared his
philosophy regarding climbing. No—more than that. It had been his attitude concerning
living
, and she’d grasped hold of those beliefs with two hands and not let go.

Not until the accident had torn her world from her.

Every reminder of who she
had
been helped keep alive the hope that she could get herself back.

Marcus forced her to remember that life was more than the ability to climb. That her
passions ran deeper than the job she did and the people she rescued. Made her wonder
if perhaps fate had put this man in her path, again, for more than one reason.

Now she needed the courage to accept and take the next step.

CHAPTER
14

Becki stuck around after Lifeline’s Saturday morning training was complete, hanging
over the deck railing to observe Erin hover the team over the drop site as they rappelled
to targets Marcus placed on the ground.

No matter how enjoyable staring after the man and admiring him from a distance was,
it didn’t make her next decision any easier.

They’d left the gym the day before without speaking of the kiss. Without Marcus making
any more demands or requests of her, which was good, because if he had suggested they
go back to his house and spend the night locked together, she would have agreed in
an instant.

Then regretted it in the morning.

“Tripp. Haul ass up and try again,” Marcus shouted. Tripp waved before hooking his
hands onto the swinging rope and moved hand over hand toward the chopper. A safety
rope dangled from his harness, but he did the work himself, rising to the level of
the open side door, where hands reached to drag him into the cargo bay.

Alisha stepped out, rappelling downward efficiently, stopping five feet from the ground
and gesturing toward the field. Anders could be seen in the opening as he adjusted
tensions, Erin shifting the entire chopper to the south.

Smooth and serene, as if she were walking down the sidewalk of Banff Avenue, Alisha
used the momentum of the rope to launch herself the final distance to land directly
on a target, both feet squarely in the center.

Marcus gave her a high five, the young woman’s face beaming with delight as he motioned
his approval to the aircraft with a thumbs-up.

Becki applauded as Alisha unclipped and headed toward the building, a wide grin on
her face.

Yes, Marcus knew how to time things, whether deliberate praise as to Alisha, or the
perfect moment and method he’d used the previous day to coax a climb out of her.

To coax a climb, a kiss, and a grope—oh, the man had no issues with timing whatsoever.
Becki still wasn’t sure what to think about it.

Passion was a good thing. Enjoying sex was fine—she wouldn’t even consider it an indulgence.
But she was old enough to want everything she did to be for more reasons than it felt
good at the time.

She needed her mind engaged as well as her hormones.

Becki was still pondering her current dilemma an hour later when the exercise was
done and everyone had turned to relaxing. The guys took off without a word, leaving
Becki with Erin and Alisha at the staff headquarters.

“Lunch?” Becki asked.

“Boys are bringing food back. You can pour me a juice,” Erin requested as she made
her way to the couch. She threw herself down and propped her feet on the coffee table.
“I’d ask for something with a kick, but I swore off the rotgut until boot camp is
completed.”

“Nothing for me,” Alisha called. “I want to finish this chapter before lunch arrives.”

She grabbed a book from her backpack. Becki filled two glasses with orange juice and
brought them over to where Erin was sprawled. “Keeping yourself on your toes?”

“Damn right. Plus now I don’t trust Marcus not to call and get me out of bed five
minutes after I collapse from a binge.”

“He would, too.” She sat across from Erin and shook her head. “Tough session?”

“Wind kept shifting. Flying March to May around here is a whole lot more exciting
than the rest of the year put together. Did you hear it’s supposed to snow tonight?
The mountains and the changing temperatures make me doubly glad there’s not a lot
of people on the trails this time of year.” Erin closed her eyes, head back against
the couch. “Still, wouldn’t trade it for anything. The adrenaline rush is like crack.”

If anyone would understand the thrills she missed, and her continuing confusion, it
was another SAR member. The one extra component was what added to the intricacy of
this situation. Becki swirled the last of her drink against the ice and considered
whether discussing her uncertainty with Erin would be totally out of line.

She stuck with a safer query. “You like working for Lifeline?”

Erin sat up slowly, as if considering as she pulled her hair into order, the thick
black mass of it barely contained in her ponytail. “Lifeline rocks. The team is great.
They don’t drive me totally mad, only partially. I get to fly and usually have enough
spare time to indulge my bad habits. What’s not to love?”

“Bad habits, huh?” She looked Erin over with curiosity. Becki bet it would be interesting
to discover what Erin, so poised and confident, considered an indulgence. After reading
the team files Becki knew they were nearly the same age, and having someone she could
talk to about more than work was definitely on the list of things needed in her life.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been silently pondering when Erin laughed. “You’re
twitching like you’ve got something on your mind. Ask or don’t. No skin off my back.
But if you want to talk, I’ve seen more than the little blonde girl in the corner.”

Becki smiled, glancing over at where the young woman in question was curled up on
one of the couches on the far side of the room. Alisha was totally engrossed in her
book, eyes going wide every now and then as she read. “She is sweet, isn’t she?”

“Like honey on an ice cream cone. Gets everything around her sticky and messy as well.”
Erin shuddered. Becki laughed. “Well, it’s true. She talked me into going to see some
Disney release the other day.”

“Hey, they aren’t all bad.”

Erin sniffed. “I know, and I won’t even lie—I had to break out the tissues at one
point. God, I hate that.”

Alisha stood with a jerk, slipped her finger between the pages to hold her spot, and
left the room without a backward glance.

“And . . . countdown to Devon entering our view in three, two, one . . . On schedule.”
Erin mock-bowed as the blond young man crossed into their line of vision. He stared
after Alisha’s retreating back as he dropped to the couch, his expression clearly
one of frustration. “You know, I can hardly wait until those two get this twisted
foreplay out of their system and just fuck each other stupid. It’s getting old putting
up with their weird dance.”

“Really?” Becki looked Devon over again, this time armed with Erin’s suggestion, and
thought through all the interactions she’d seen between Alisha and Devon. “I suppose
that makes sense, in some weird way.”

“See? Twisted.”

Becki smiled. “Well, I might be nearly as twisted. What do you think of Marcus?”

“My Marcus? Like the guy who pays my salary so he’s allowed to shout at me and demand
all sorts of insane things from me? Like making me stand on a platform in the dark
and practice recognizing which direction the wind is coming from?”

Becki couldn’t stop her laughter. “Where does he get these ideas from?”

“You should talk.” Erin grimaced. “Are games some kind of obsession with you? Because
the next time you set up orienteering, I’m calling in sick.”

“What are you complaining about? You did great.”

Erin shook her head, “Oh no, you’re not distracting me anymore. What’s got your knickers
in a twist? We already established the
who
as Marcus, which, hello, no surprise there since you’ve been working with him for
a week now. Some guys just have a way of getting under your skin like nobody’s business.”

“Yeah.” Becki considered carefully, making sure Devon was still out of earshot on
the far side of the room. At what point was she sharing too much? “We had a fling
once.”

“Oh really?” Erin raised her glass in salute. “Nice. Not that I want details, but
I always imagined he’s the type to know what to do under the sheets.”

And against the wall. On the floor. Becki smiled. “Decisive is . . . an understatement.”

Erin nodded. Waited. Finally made a face and laughed. “So, let me guess. You’re considering
another round?”

“Considering, then thinking
no
. Considering, then thinking
yes
. I’m like some weird sexual yo-yo, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Is it because you’re working together?” Erin shrugged. “Because I don’t think what
you’ve got going is a big deal. It’s not as if you’ll be running rescues together.
That’s the time when relationships get freaky.”

“I was sleeping with my climbing partner,” Becki confessed.

Erin twisted her mouth to the side. “But you worked search and rescue in Yellowstone,
and he didn’t, right?”

“No, but . . .” Yeah, she saw the point. “It’s still Dane I’m thinking about.”

The other woman sat quietly for a moment. “How long ago is it again? Eight months
or so?”

Becki nodded.

“Oh hon, you’re tying the knots tighter and faster than you can untie them. You miss
him?”

Guilt and confusion made lousy analytical tools. “Maybe? We were comfortable. We weren’t
in love.”

Erin sat back and sipped her drink for a minute. “I had a guy once. We were close,
same kind of thing—good together in bed, enjoyed each other’s company to a point.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was . . . there. A constant. Like you said, comfortable.”

Becki gazed over at Erin curiously. “What happened to him?”

“It got uncomfortable. Not sure if it was him or me that changed. I decided I had
to move on. Did I miss him for a while? Hell, yeah. There’s nothing like a guy you’ve
trained to know what you like in bed.”

She wanted to laugh at Erin’s blunt comments, but Becki’s mind was racing. “I do miss
Dane. Miss the company. I feel guilty, like there was something more I could have
done, and I’m not talking about the missing pieces of what happened that day.”

“Like you should have loved him more? If only you had . . . Oh, girl, don’t do that
to yourself. And more importantly, don’t go thinking what you
had
means you can’t ever have again.”

Becki paused. “What does that mean?”

Erin sat forward, fully focused. She lifted a finger at Becki. “What if you had been
in love with Dane? Head over heels, rings on fingers, bells on toes, all of it. And
he died. Don’t think how, just think—he’s gone. Would you really put on sackcloth
and sit in the ashes for the rest of your life?”

“Of course not.”

“Would you ever think about getting involved with another person?”

“You’re making this sound simple.”

“It
is
simple.” Erin shook her head. “If you’re not ready to fool around, then you’re not
ready. Get a fresh set of batteries, or invest in a movable showerhead, whatever turns
your crank. But if you are interested and you’ve got a guy who’s pawing at your door,
don’t go tacking some self-imposed timeline to the grieving process. You can miss
the hell out of one guy while you’re boning the hell out of another.”

Becki lost it. She laughed so hard she ended up gasping for air. Erin sat and silently
observed, one brow raised high, a smirk on her face. “Glad to be of service. I’ll
be here all week, try the veal.”