Heated Pursuit (Alpha Security #1)(15)
“Where did they all go?” she asked, hoping to steer her thoughts away from where they were currently directed.
“To look into a lead across town, and Maria said she was going to make a stop at the market and pop in later. She said something about fixing you from the inside out. Warning, though—that usually means tequila. Sip lightly.”
“Good to know.” Her lips slid into a small smile.
“Are you done procrastinating?” With a lift of his chin, he gestured toward the shirt. “My clothes aren’t going to come off on their own.”
Penny looked down at the T and sweats she’d slipped into after her shower. His clothes. She’d known they weren’t her belongings, which Logan and Trey had commandeered from a reluctant motel manager that morning. But she’d been so thankful not to have to shimmy into snug yoga pants that she hadn’t considered how the extra-large shirt and sweats had ended up on the bed. Now it made sense, and so did the scent of clean soap, musky man, and gun oil.
Rolled into one, it was Rafe.
“I could’ve given you one of Logan’s shirts,” Rafe said, interrupting her thoughts, “but the only thing he had clean had a cartoon picture of a nurse with supersized breasts.”
“In that case, thanks for the clothes.” And thank God she’d struggled into a bra. She lifted the hem of the shirt halfway before sucking in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong?” Rafe asked immediately, sounding concerned.
“It appears my ribs aren’t liking the whole yoga stretch thing.” She mentally cringed at what she was about to ask. “I’m assuming you have practice with taking off a woman’s clothes?”
“It’s practically my favorite pastime.”
“I don’t doubt that in the least.” She matched his smirk. “Do you think you can help a girl out?”
Rafe’s blue eyes glittered in mischief. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
They worked together to slowly lift the shirt over her head. Each brush of his fingers sent a small zap to her nerves, nerves that traveled down her limbs and coiled low in her abdomen. Although his gaze never strayed from her face, it felt as if he’d scoured her from head to toe.
“My clothes look better on you than they do on me.” The low timbre of his voice caressed her like slightly roughened silk.
She choked back a laugh. “I look like I’m playing dress-up.”
“This is the kind of dress-up I can fully get behind. As far as hobbies go, it may be a close second to the removal of clothing.” His gaze briefly dropped to where her nipples practically pushed their way through her lace-covered bra. “Or maybe not such a close second.”
Penny’s face heated at the unspoken innuendo. But it was the softening of his eyes as they landed on her bruised torso that made her heart do a funny flip. At two hundred pounds of solid, lethal muscle, the man was a walking weapon, yet he traced around the edge of her black and blue as if cotton balls tipped his fingers.
“I think it looks worse than it feels,” she murmured, uncomfortable by the sudden shift from teasing to serious. Goose bumps followed the path of his touch.
“Why didn’t you tell someone it was this bad? This has got to hurt like hell.” His voice deepened the longer he examined her ribs.
“It doesn’t tickle.”
“I’m not kidding, Red. If that punk had had a gun on him, you could’ve had a few holes to go along with the bumps and bruises. And then it would’ve taken a hell of a lot more than a bag of frozen peas to fix you. You were lucky.”
“Well, Lucky is my middle name,” she joked.
He didn’t look humored. Mouth tight, he grabbed an ACE bandage from the table and stepped close enough for her to see the small flecks of silver in his eyes. The warmth of his body suffused hers as his arms spanned entirely around her waist. Gentle and sure, he secured both ice packs into place.
A fresh, soapy scent clung to his body. His shirt, slightly dampened, molded itself to the hard planes of his chest. She closed her eyes to combat the need to use his body as a pillow.
“Lucky really is my middle name.” She babbled the first thing that came to mind so she didn’t envision his hands running over every square inch of her skin. “It was my father’s handle when he was in the Navy. He never got the son he wanted, so I guess he figured that it was the only way for him to relive the glory days.”
“Where’s your dad now?” Rafe’s gaze flickered up to her face and back down to his task.
“His doctors had been telling him to take it easy for a long time, but easy wasn’t in Admiral Michael Kline’s vocabulary. He had a heart attack a year ago while doing a carrier-to-carrier helo hop.”
“And how does the rest of your family feel about you traipsing all over Honduras looking for a madman?”
“There’s only been Rachel and me for a long time—and Trey’s mom.” Thinking briefly of the woman who raised her, a wave of guilt slammed into her. “I may not have been totally candid with Sophie about everything that’s happened down here. She’s had enough to worry about with Trey going MIA as frequently as he does. I didn’t want to add to it.”
Ever since she’d seen the camaraderie Rafe and Trey seemed to have, a nagging question kept popping into her head. “Can I ask you something?”