Then, on the edge of perception, comes the sounds of men crashing through the underbrush and calling out to one another. On focusing, I bring that sound to the forefront of my mind, and it’s all I can hear.
I reach for Rosalie, seeking her out to draw her close. To protect her from those who wish her harm. Her featherlight touch dances across my skin, more reassuring of her presence than seeking my protection. She places her forefinger to her lips, indicating silence, then she creeps along the limb we traverse until we join the trunk of a tree towering overhead.
The base of the limb is easily several feet in diameter. With the crisscrossing of limbs, she gestures for me to join her in a hollow formed by the jangled mess of vegetation. With nowhere to go, her back’s to the tree and I’m plastered against her. Face-to-face, I didn’t think this through, as I’m in no position to defend her, and those damn lips are kissably close.
Too close.
Too tempting.
Too fucking distracting. I need to focus and get that out of my mind.
When I shift, trying to turn around, she grabs my arm and pulls me close.
“Shh, don’t move.” Hand on my Kevlar vest, she yanks me toward her.
Or rather, I allow her to move my body, because who wouldn’t want to be plastered against her womanly curves?
Never said I was a saint.
My hand drifts to her waist and wraps around the small of her back. Leaning in, we meld our bodies against that of the tree, becoming one while the men hunt from below.
Easily twice her size, there’s no way she can move my bulk, but she’s not interested in pushing me away. It’s like we share the same brainwave. Our job is to become one with the rainforest and let the men, far below, pass beneath us, and fuck if our bodies don’t fit together like two peas in a pod.
What that does, however, is create a disturbing problem I didn’t see coming. So close, her natural fragrance floods my senses, making me intimately aware of her subtle scent. With my vest, I can’t feel her soft curves, but a quick glance between us reveals ample breasts and flawless skin.
More of a sinner than a saint, it’s an act of God that I don’t slam her against that trunk, grab her by the back of her neck, and devour those devastatingly plump lips of hers with my mouth.
With great effort, I remind myself of two things. First, and foremost, I’ve been sent to rescue her, not devour her. Second… Fuck if I remember what comes second.
Except I find myself in an awkward position as my dick takes notice and rises to an occasion it’s not been invited to attend. All of this occurs in my head as the men sent to recapture Rosalie pass fifty feet below me in a fucking rainforest, while I hold an unexpected treasure in my arms.
Not sure how long we stand there, motionless and together, I keep an ear on the men below and any denizens of the rainforest who might pose a threat.
She grabs hold with her delicate fingers and places her cheek against my chest as we wait out the men below. After what seems like eons, her fingers flutter and the cadence of her breathing changes.
“I think they’re gone.” Her breathy voice makes my dick stir. It’s ethereal and angelic, an intoxicating mix of breathy femininity. My fingers splay against the small of her back, loving how she feels in my hands.
“You sure? We should wait…”
“It’s been half an hour.” Light and fragrant, her natural scent floods my senses, making my brain misfire.
Thirty minutes?
Surely, it’s been no longer than three?
“What’s your plan?” Despite what I want, I lean back, separating our bodies.
“Don’t know that I’d call it a plan, but I figure we’ve got to get out of the jungle, find a road, hook up with your team?”
All I hear is hook up, and that sends my brain into a primal spiral of lust and desire that’s frankly kind of embarrassing. Clearing my throat, I struggle to empty my mind from the kinds of thoughts that are inappropriate and enough to get me fired.
“Let me get my bearings and we’ll move out.”
“Your bearings?”
“Yeah, you know. NEWS.”
“What?”
“North, East, West, and South? NEWS? Orient to the compass and figure out which way to go.”
“Oh, well that’s easy.”
“Is it?” I crane my neck looking at the dense canopy overhead. It’s impossible to see the stars and, if there’s a moon up there, it provides shit for light.
“Yeah, we go that way.” Rosalie points in a direction opposite what instinct says we should go.
“That way is better.” I point in the opposite direction.
“We could, but it’s going to be a whole lot easier going this way.”
“And how is that? It’s dark as shit. How do you know where to go?”
“Well, that stream points downhill to the river. We’ve been traveling alongside of it, for the most part. We make it to the river and that leads us to a bridge. Find the bridge and I can tell you where we are.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
I hate that everything coming out of her mouth makes perfect sense. It’s exactly what they teach us in SERE: survive, evade, resist, escape. My favorite kind of training, but then that speaks to the survivalist in me.
“Then we head out in the morning.”
“The morning?” Even in the darkness, the whites of her eyes reveal her shock. “We need to move now.”
“We’ve done well.” My fingers have a mind of their own, exploring the delights of her tiny waist, but my words straighten her spine and stiffen her muscles. She’s about to dig in and argue with me, which might be fun, but we don’t have time for that kind of shit. “But we need to rest.”
“Rest?” She pulls away from me until the back of her head hits the trunk of the tree. “We’re fifty feet in the air. There’s no resting here, or do you want to fall out of a tree?”
“Not too keen on the falling out of the tree thing, but the higher we go, the thinner the branches become and the farther apart they spread. If we go lower, the men are more likely to find us. What we want to do is hunker down, catch some sleep, then move out in the morning when we can see better and avoid a misstep that will lead to that crashing to the ground thing.”
“Don’t know about you, but there’s enough adrenaline surging inside of me that I don’t think I’ll sleep for a week. We should push on, especially since the men went that way.” To my chagrin, she points in the direction I previously indicated.
With the exfil window closing, I consider alternate extraction plans. There’s no way Rosalie and I are making it to the airport in Managua. As for the rest of my team, Charlie, and those they’ve rescued, they can’t afford to wait on us.
Not ideal, but I’ve been in far worse situations than this.
“Lead on.” I gesture toward a broad limb branching off from the trunk. It disappears into the murk of the forest.
Until I can figure out our next move, Rosalie and I are on our own, and it appears that she’s the leader.
SEVEN
Rosalie
It’s been years since I’ve been in the trees. I was ten, carefree, adventurous—wild. The world was an innocent place.