As long as she was being honest with herself, she might as well face the fact that he’d surprised her when he told her about their meeting six years ago. If he’d made her feel small and cheap, she’d have folded her heart into a smaller shape and forced it farther down her throat.
But he’d let her know just how much he’d wanted her. Still wanted her, if that bulge in his pants had been evidence.
She knew without a doubt Hunter left an impression on every woman he encountered, because she remembered how he’d listened to her that night so many years ago. Considering his covert work that was understandable, but he’d really listened.
And made her smile.
And taken her home rather than leave her vulnerable to someone else jumping on her drunken offer.
He was such an unusual man. She could feel him when he was near. Feel the battle he fought to remain distant. And still he’d wrapped her in the safety of his arms more times than she could count. He was the kind of man a woman listened to with her heart. If she did that, her freedom might not be the only thing in jeopardy by the end of this.
She put the lotion on the counter and headed to the bedroom.
Someone tapped at the door.
“You’ll have to wait. I’m in a towel,” she called out, searching the room for a robe.
The door opened.
She shrieked, “Get out. I’m not dressed!”
Hunter didn’t slow down. “Doesn’t matter. That towel’s coming off anyhow.”
Chapter Twenty-six
O ne towel between me and Abbie’s wet body.
Hunter didn’t know if he could do this or not. He’d been all set to put antibiotic on her scrapes earlier, but she’d been sound asleep when he came up to her bedroom the first time.
He couldn’t bring himself to wake her.
So he’d stood there like an idiot and watched her sleep for a while. He’d been tempted to pull her clothes off just so she’d be comfortable until he realized he wouldn’t stop there.
By the time he walked back down to his office, he’d gotten his head straight about how to handle Abbie so he could move ahead with his next step on this mission when she woke up.
That was downstairs, before he walked in here and found her not just in a towel, but wet from the shower.
Smelling like fresh rainfall.
Water trickled down her collarbone, then turned south to dive between her breasts.
His tongue got hard thinking about following that path.
And he wouldn’t stop there.
He could spend hours tracing her body with his hands and mouth.
But some other guy got the life with lazy afternoons making love to the same woman day after day. He had a job to do. The sooner he got this done, the better. “Get on the bed.”
“Are you crazy?” Abbie backed up until her legs bumped the bed, realized where she was, and sidestepped toward the dresser. “Get out of here.”
Good suggestion, even if it had been flung at him like the sharp point of a knife at a target, but her wounds needed tending and he was the only one who could do it.
The only one he’d allow to touch her.
Borys had volunteered to save Hunter the trouble.
Hunter had threatened to save Borys the trouble of breathing if got near Abbie when she had no clothes on.
And smelled fresh as a new day.
But blue lightning flashed in those eyes right now, warning him a storm was building.
“Just going to put ointment on your cuts so they don’t get infected.” He lifted the tube of ointment in his hand. “You get all your wounds cleaned?”
Her mouth puckered open then closed like a confused guppy. Wet curls dangled from where she’d failed to capture the entire mass in the towel wrapped around her head.
The bath sheet covered a lot, but wrapping her arms around her waist shoved her breasts high, threatening towel control.
Just put the damn ointment on and keep your hands to yourself.
Don’t think about her naked on the bed.
Or the floor. Or the bathroom sink. Or…
Hell, he’d almost stripped her on the side of a mountain.
“I can put the salve on.” She didn’t move from the dresser, as if that was the only safe place in the room.
“You can’t reach all of your back.” Once he made sure her cuts were clean and disinfected, he’d exit. Immediately. But that had to happen soon. He knew one way to get her moving. “What’re you afraid of?”
Her shoulders clicked back at that.
The little termagant didn’t like having her courage challenged. He didn’t doubt her courage. She had too much for his peace of mind. She’d put herself at risk for others without a second thought for her own safety.
“Just do it with me standing up,” she suggested.
“It’ll be easier if you’re lying down.” He hoped. Less chance of gravity taking that towel off her body.
One slip and it would be all over. Even he had his limits.
She relented, heading for the bed, where she yanked the towel off her head and dropped it on the floor, then climbed on the blue corduroy bedspread facedown.
Curls tumbled wildly.
His fingers itched to touch the soft twists.
She grumbled to herself and lifted up. Then she shoved the pillows to the side and loosened her bath sheet, pulling each side out from under her body until none of the towel was caught between her and the bed.
She scooted over, taking the towel with her and leaving him room on the edge. “Well? What else do you want me to do?”
Peel the rest of that towel off, kiss me like you did earlier outdoors, and lock your legs around my waist.
His jeans were getting tighter by the minute. If he stood there any longer and she got a look at his growing erection she wouldn’t let him touch her. Not after what had happened on the mountain. If he did that again he should be decked for teasing her. He moved over and sat on the bed next to her hip so she couldn’t see the bulge in his jeans without twisting around.
The huff she released sounded like a whispered curse.
He pinched the top edge of the towel and rolled it down off her shoulders. Then he cursed.
“What?” she asked.
“You’ve got one nasty scratch on your back.”
“What are you angry about? My fault. Not like you pushed me down the hill.” She turned her head, facing the window, and settled herself again.
But it was his fault. He should have anticipated anything she might have done, even trying to leave the cabin. He opened the tube of antibiotic cream with a topical painkiller he’d gotten a while back from Mako-a BAD agent with an MD who could patch up just about anything long enough to keep an agent alive until they made it to the hospital.
Rubbing the salve between his hands to warm it, he opened his palms and placed one hand on her back.
She flinched. “I’m okay.”
He slowly started smoothing the medicine across her shoulders and down the sides of her arms.
She sucked in a breath.
“Sorry. Those spots need the most attention.”
“It’s okay.” Her bottom wiggled, settling again.
Don’t move, Abbie. He finished spreading the cream on her back and slid the towel down a little more, exposing a few scratches on one cheek. He continued wiping the cream across the gentle rise.
She flexed her bottom.
Don’t stare at her pert butt. Don’t think about anything but clinical application of the cream.
Tell that to his loins getting heavier by the minute.
He ran his hand back and forth over her right cheek. Sweat beaded along his neck. She had a few scratches on her front, but he was done. “Think that’s all the tough areas to reach.”
“I’m over my modesty attack,” she murmured. “Go ahead and finish. Not like you haven’t seen most of my backside by now and I’m too stiff to move.”
He was too stiff, too, but he doubted sharing that would draw any sympathy from her. His hand shook at the thought of touching her any longer and restraining himself.