Page 59 of Rescuing You

The door closed.

Leaving the three of them boxed up and waiting.

In the months she and Michael had dated, they’d been alone more times than she could count, but never like this. Never trapped, in danger, in silence. With a million questions between them.

And nothing to say.

Michael tipped her chin with his free hand and kissed her, the slightest brush of his lips against hers, but the gesture calmed her. He was here because he cared. And after everything—after finding her in an Iraqi compound, after she’d ignored his directions and nearly gotten herself and Jasmine recaptured, after their disagreement the night before—he still felt something for her.

And she still felt something—more than something—for him.

He trailed his fingers in her hair, raising goose bumps on her flesh.

She pressed her hands against his broad chest, then followed with her cheek, listening to the beat of his heart.

When two voices filtered through the wood, they braced themselves again. The crate angled and bumped against the back of the dolly. They were rolled out of the apartment, into the elevator and back out, and then through a door. No steps this way, apparently. Was there a loading dock maybe?

She had no idea.

The box was rolled up an incline, then straightened again.

Silence followed, but she dared not speak or move.

A few minutes later, the guys were back, talking football, joking around. A thump sounded nearby. A few more strange noises—sliding, bumping, shifting—and then the unmistakable sound of a metal rolling door falling into place.

Doors slammed.

The engine rumbled to life.

And they were moving. The radio came on, the Iraqi pop music familiar if not comforting. Splat and Omar’s voices were muted but audible.

Tension seemed to drain from Michael’s body. He kept his hand braced against the ceiling but held her close with his other arm.

She gripped him right back, praying that they would all get out of this, safe and healthy. And that she and Michael, when it was all over, would still be together. After all he had done for her to get her here, after all their dates, their long talks, their sweet kisses… After all the ways he’d proved to her he cared, she held onto him and admitted to herself that she never wanted to let him go.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Get your head on straight.

Michael’s brain knew what he should be thinking about. But his body had entirely different ideas. Because Leila was tucked right up against him, snug and comfortable, resting her cheek on his chest. Trusting him. Trusting her life, and her sister’s, to him.

The rumble of the van, the hum of the music, the feel of her against him, and… Oh man. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly he ached.

He bit his lip. Maybe the pain would redirect him.

It didn’t.

But he knew better than to follow his impulses in this cramped space with nothing to distract him from the feel of her in his arms.

Considering the only things between Leila and recapture were the crate and the van—and him—he could not risk losing control.

He was falling in love with this woman. He needed to honor her, and honor God.

Which felt a lot easier when she wasn’t so deliciously close.

The van slowed and rounded a corner, and he braced himself against the wood. “Hang on to me.” He kept his voice low.

She slid her arms around his back, and despite the wound that ached at her touch, that didn’t help his out-of-control thoughts at all.