I picked the tallest tree—a split second decision when I noticed Hayes was in trouble on his descent—unfortunately, my choice of tree isn’t the best. The branches are too small to support his weight. They barely support mine and I easily weigh half what he does. Not to mention, it’s too far from the waterfall to jump.
I have a great vantage point, though.
If he’s counting on you, then shouldn’t you stop staring at his ass and actually help?
My fingers twist on the branch. Sometimes that voice in my head is annoying.
Although I see why you’re staring. It continues berating me. Those trousers hang well on such a fine backside. I bet the front is equally swoon-worthy.
Stop it!
Why? You’re going to sit there and pretend you haven’t noticed the man’s well-hung?
I said stop it!
I can’t concentrate on helping Hayes when my imagination distracts me with carnal thoughts.
The thing is, Hayes fills out those trousers exceptionally well, and I’ve seen the bulge behind the zipper. The man’s packing something impressive. Although, I wouldn't know what to do if things heated up.
No virgin, my sexual education is woefully lacking. Memories of Matias huffing and puffing over my young body course through my mind, making my shoulders hunch and my chin dip as I try to disappear.
It’s hard not to wrap my arms around myself and shrink into a ball. Most days, I ignore what Matias did to me, but it still strikes at the worst time.
Lucinda said the urge to disappear was the trauma resurfacing. She told me to focus on the present, count my blessings, and push the memories away.
It helps—mostly, but there’s no true recovery from the trauma of rape. Over ten years in my past, the disgust and self-loathing never go away.
That rape remains my one and only sexual encounter. Which makes thinking about such things with Hayes tremendously complicated.
Yes, he’s easy on the eye.
Yes, he’s got a nice ass.
Yes, I’m slowly becoming infatuated with the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his face. It’s flirtatious, never seems to go away, and he’s more than attractive.
The man is a force of beauty, even if he’s missing the last two digits on his left hand. That flaw, however, humanizes him.
Although, I can’t help but wonder how he lost those fingers. It doesn’t seem to affect him, unlike the memories I have of Matias wandering through my mind at the worst possible times.
But Hayes is nothing like Matias.
Hayes is kind and gentle. Matias is cruel and barbaric. Where Hayes is strong and powerful, Matias is brutal, sadistic, and inhumane.
Hayes is the walking embodiment of a hero. Where Matias is the devil manifested in the flesh.
Hayes saved me… Is saving me. Matias wants to enslave me.
We are not out of the jungle yet. Matias is out there, hunting me. Carmen’s father is licking his wounds, and if I know one thing, the man will come after the Guardians. To save face, honor demands he strikes back against his enemy.
I don’t know if Hayes and his Guardian friends fully understand the fury and rage they’ve let loose. Carmen’s father is a volatile and violent man known for unleashing his wrath and decimating his enemies.
I fear for what they’ve released into the world. My fingers tighten around the branch overhead and I clench my teeth.
There’s nothing to do about it now, which means I focus on Lucinda’s teachings. Live in the present. Count my blessings. Push fear and worry out of my mind.
As for living in the present, I need to help Hayes navigate a treacherous path down the slippery rocks next to the raging waterfall.
He faces away from me, plastering his body against the rock face.
“What’s next, luv?” Hayes grips a protrusion on the rock face and lowers himself down to another tiny ledge while I admire the strength of his body.
I don’t know how he hasn’t fallen. If it were me, my grip would’ve failed, my feet would’ve slipped, and I would’ve tumbled backward and crashed on the rocks below.
Hayes looks like he was born to climb. He uses his body like a well-honed tool, moving steadily toward the next objective.
“Two feet down, a little to your left. There’s another ledge.” I point to the outcropping of rock, then chide myself when I realize he can’t see where I point.
Watching him navigate the rock wall is like watching a master at work. He moves surely, instinctually, with not an ounce of wasted effort. Each time he lowers down, it’s with full control of his body. He doesn’t drop or fall, he’s one with the wall.
“How do you do that?” I lean back, placing my back against the trunk of the tree, and admire his sinuous progress down the rocky wall.
“Do what?”
“Move like that.”
“You like the way I move?” There’s the slightest chuckle buried there at the end of his words that heats my cheeks and brings my grin front and center.
Yes! Yes, we love the way you move!
I could watch Hayes all day long.
“Point the toe of your boot about four inches down.” Ignoring his comment, I focus on the present and try my best to ignore the inappropriate thoughts swirling in my head; not to mention the insistent throbbing between my legs needs to stop.
Is this a crush? Is that what I’m feeling?
“Cat got your tongue?” Hayes finds the next purchase for his foot and stretches his arm out to the side for a steadying handhold.
“Excuse me?” I shake my head, thinking I missed something, then remind myself I’m here to help. “Too high. Down a foot and in toward your body.”
“You sure?” He doesn’t sound convinced but follows my guidance. His fingers find the tiny ledge I spy and he shifts his entire body down another few feet.
“Sure? About what?”
“The cat?”
“What cat?”
“The one that’s got your tongue.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, truly confused.
“Come on, Rosie. Are you going to tell me you haven’t been staring at my ass? Or watching me move?”
I inhale the drool in my mouth, which sends me into a coughing fit, which proves I was indeed staring at his ass.
“Thought so.”
While I hack up a lung, Hayes climbs down another few feet. He’s about forty feet from the base of the waterfall now. Only a third of the way down, it’s still high enough for a fatal fall. But he’s closing in on the tree I picked that’s strong enough to hold his weight.
Rather than say what he already knows, I shift position and climb down to the next set of limbs branching off from the trunk of the tree I sit in.
“I wasn’t…”
“It’s okay.” He flashes me one of the most handsome smiles I’ve ever seen. “I don’t mind.”
“I wasn’t…”
“Don’t lie to me, Rosalie.” He practically sings the words, letting his voice rise and fall with the words.
He’s rhyming now?
Shoot me dead. I’m mortified.
“I had to look at your backside to help you climb down. It was necessary.” I have to say something in my defense.
“I’m just teasing you.” He finds his next set of handholds and footholds without my guidance. “You’re so tense; your brows are practically touching.” He moves down another few feet, which means I shift lower in the tree, keeping pace with his descent.