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“I’m going to bring your legs around and hold you tight, until your feet can find the top of the ladder. Is that okay?”
Another nod.
“Okay. Here we go.”
I reach for her legs, my hand sliding along the smooth calf to her knee, trying to guide the leg closest to me down. My pulse speeds up, and it’s not just the difficult moment. I’m touching her again. I realize how badly I’ve had to fight to hold back from doing this very thing the whole time she’s been here.
“Your skirt is narrow, so we have to do this all at once.”
Another nod.
I slide my arm underneath her other leg and guide it over to the ladder. She shifts on the limb, and I rotate her body, holding her steady until her boot grazes the step. “Right here. Put your weight down.”
She follows my instructions, her belly quivering with fright.
I hold her firmly around the waist. “You can let go of the branch. I’ve got you.”
She seems afraid to lift her head.
I need to brace her better. I keep one arm around her waist and the other one across her chest so she feels secure. The closeness of her is not lost on me as I pull her away from the tree, and finally she settles her weight onto me instead of the branch.
“Okay. We’ve got it. Down one step.”
Once we’re moving together, I’m able to let go of her with one arm and hold on to the ladder. Slowly, we ease down step by step, our bodies flush.
When I reach the ground, I lift her away from the ladder and set her down. “We made it.”
She faces away from me, her arms trembling.
“Ensley? You okay?”
She turns around and clutches me, her head in my neck. I don’t hesitate, but hold her close. “You’re brave. It’s not many people who will follow a cat up a tree.”
She nods against my shoulder. The sunlight filters through the leaves. It’s chilly out, but not cold. Ensley is warm and soft and feels perfect in my arms. Too many competing feelings roll through me.Tenderness. Concern. Admiration. I give myself a little leeway for my behavior, since we’ve recently been so close, and slide my hand up her neck into her hair.
She lets out a soft sigh, and when she pulls back to look up at me, kissing her is the most natural action in the world.
This connection is nothing like the one in the shed. That one was mired in rain, bourbon, and anger.
This one is springtime and sunshine and relief. She did what I would do, only she got to it faster, at a greater risk to herself.
Our lips softly caress each other. I resist the temptation to take it deeper, to move out of this tenderness and into the passion I know we can fall into.
Not here. Not now. I do have that much self-control.
But I let myself touch her again, gently, her shoulders, her back, the curve of her waist. The tension drops. A level of relaxation that I rarely know comes over me. Normally to get here, I would have screwed some random woman senseless, and this is the quiet aftermath, a brief period when my body is content.
Strange to feel it now.
I want to touch her face, to draw my fingers along her jaw. But the kiss has gone on too long, and I have to be her boss.
Reluctantly, I pull away. “It’s a natural reaction to danger,” I say. “Proving we’re alive.”
Her gaze meets mine. There are leaves in her hair. I reach up to pull them out. “You going to be okay?”
She nods.
“Why don’t you take some time to gather yourself?”
