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“Believe me or don’t, that’s the truth.” I turned, mentally and physically preparing myself to jump alone, but his arm banded across my midsection, and he drew me flush to his body.
A shuddery breath fell from my lips as he slid his hand up my chest to my collarbone. His fingers splayed across my throat before the pad of his thumb made its way to my mouth, and he brushed down my lower lip.
“I believe you,” he whispered into my ear.
My thread of control to “keep calm and plug along”—or whatever the hell that saying was—nearly snapped.
“Why?” I shouldn’t have pressed, but it wasn’t exactly in my nature not to.
“I have no choice.” The gravelly tone of his voice slid down my body and hit me between the legs.
“There’s always a choice,” I repeated what he’d said to me about going into the jungle just that morning. “Is it because you wouldn’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror knowing you had sex with a murderer?”
At the feel of his hand on my chin, urging me to look back to find his eyes, I obeyed his request.
“It’s because I don’t think anyone or anything can change what I’m feeling for you or stop me from wanting to take you in my arms again.” That raspy promise freed a small breath from my lungs.
He abruptly stepped back, hooked his arm around my waist, and set a soft kiss at my temple just before we both jumped.
Going down was much less traumatic than two nights ago, but when I pushed up to the surface in the calm waters, the spray from the waterfall blasted me in the face. I twisted on reflex when I felt something at my back, luckily realizing before I struck out that it was Jack tugging my shirt. He was drawing me away from the base of the waterfall crashing down into what looked like a gorgeous pool.
“Like Carter said, this water should be free of anything that bites, but let’s not take our chances.” Jack tipped his head to the side, and I looked over to see everyone waiting for us on a narrow strip of grassy land, a bank of trees just beyond them. The forest awaited us again.
Gwen and Mya had removed their shirts and were wringing out the water. Like me, they both had on a bikini top.
As I swam to the ledge, I spotted Lucy peeling off her tank top, revealing two pink triangles that barely hid her breasts. Mason seemed to notice, too. He leaned in and said something to her. My eyes narrowed as I tried to imagine what exactly was going through his head and how hard I’d have to hit him. But his gaze never lowered as he whispered in her ear.
Her eyes widened and she reached up to adjust one of the triangles. Well, damn . . . the jump had shifted the fabric around, and he was politely letting her know her nipple was nearly on the verge of escaping.
Okay, that’s a good-guy thing to do. Point for Mason.
Jack climbed out only to spin around and offer me a boost up. I hesitantly accepted his palm, and my hand became lost inside his. A perfect and protective fit. And one that nearly brought tears to my eyes.
My dad taught me a few rules about men before his heart attack stole him from the world. One of which was, “Never marry a guy who can’t hold both your heart and your hand in the palm of his.”
Mom had hated that advice, insisting I didn’t need any man to hold anything of mine. But maybe Dad was right? And it seemed Jack could so easily do both.
“You want my shirt?” Jack asked, drawing me to the present.
“You don’t need to give me yours.”
But Jack ignored me, removing his tee anyway. And my attention was glued to his wet, glistening wall of muscles.
“I don’t get how I’m the one wearing blood when you’re the one who kill—” Not going to finish that sentence.
“We need to find a safe place to set up, so we have the upper hand when they come again.” Carter’s reality check did nothing for my confidence in our escape as I got rid of my blood-stained tank top.
“What kind of safe place? How is anywhere out here safe?” Lucy asked while I tightened the string at the back of my bikini top, ensuring my breasts were properly covered by the black triangles. One wardrobe malfunction per family was enough.
When I looked up, I didn’t miss Jack checking as well. “You’re good.”
His husky voice had my nipples pebbling as he shoved his soaked shirt my way, his eyes darkening the slightest bit.
I looked around and noticed everyone else, Carter included, had removed their shirts. “I think I’ll stay in this for now.” A bikini top was more comfortable than the heavy weight of soaked fabric. I was tempted to remove my pants, too, but it might push Jack off another ledge. I decided wet pants and shoes were a mild inconvenience to what we’d already endured.
“Come on, then.” Jack slung his wet shirt over his shoulder and started to follow the others into the thick of the jungle.
Survival 2.0? Or are we at number three by now? I was losing count of how many times we’d dodged death that day.
