Best Man with Benefits (Wedding Dare, #4, McCade Brothers, #3)(31)
In her mind, New Sophie urged, For God’s sake, trust him!
“I— ” Her dry throat choked on the words.
The corner of his mouth kicked up into a grin and she heard the words as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud. I. Dare. You.
Screw it, what was the worst that could happen? She’d slip, the belay line would fail, and she’d fall fifteen feet to land on her butt on the cushion of mats stacked at the base of the wall. She’d probably only spend a couple of months in traction.
“Okay,” she heard herself say over the deafening sound of her blood pounding in her ears. Minutes later she found herself facing the wall, snapped into a harness and clipped to the belay line. She touched a nubby blue molded plastic handhold sticking out of the wall directly in front of her. “How do I…um…mount this thing?” Crap, that didn’t sound right.
“Grab on to the highest handholds you can comfortably reach.” He demonstrated, grabbing two handholds that were ideally placed for him and might as well have been on the moon for her. “Then, using your right foot, get a toehold on an outcrop about knee high, figure out where your left foot is going to go—aim for a crag a few inches higher than the one supporting your right foot—and then…” He lifted himself onto the wall. Gracefully. Effortlessly. And all the spit in her mouth dried as she watched his calves go taut and his back muscles flex and bunch under his shirt.
He hopped back down and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”
To climb you like a rock wall? Yes. To climb this thing? No. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Great.” He guided her to the most appropriate handholds, and while she grabbed on to them like lifelines, he crouched behind her and instructed her where to put her right foot.
“Perfect. Now, when you lift yourself up, put your left foot right here.” He tapped a purple block-shaped outcropping, and then stood so his chest brushed against her back.
Something about Logan positioning her so she was stretched out on the wall, standing on her tiptoes with one leg raised and bent, sent her dirty mind into overdrive. She flashed to an image of them doing this naked, except the only thing about to be mounted was her, and Logan was poised behind her, ready to do the honors. Heat rushed to the unprotected place between her legs and she sincerely hoped her workout leggings were dark and absorbent enough to conceal her body’s reaction to him.
“On three,” he said, and placed his hands at her waist. She closed her eyes and tried to banish the depraved sex fantasy before her bones dissolved and she had nothing left to support her.
“One, two”—she tensed and prepared to channel Catwoman—“three.” Strong hands at her waist supported her as she pulled herself up onto the wall.
“Good job. Now find your next handholds. Let your dominant side lead, go hand-hand-foot-foot, just like before, and pull yourself up the wall.”
She did as he advised and climbed another foot. Then another. She ascended over halfway up the wall, without coaching, before her arms started to feel like overstretched Slinkys. Breathing hard, she stopped to rest while a group of preteens practically climbed right over her in their race to get to the top of the wall first.
So much for those three sets of ten-pound curls every morning. The red rover crowd just kicked your butt.
“How are you doing?”
Logan’s voice broke into her musing and she nearly lost her footing as she whipped her head around to find him casually hanging on the wall right beside her.
“Fine,” she huffed, ridiculously annoyed to note he wasn’t sweaty and his breath wasn’t the least bit labored.
“If your arms get tired, you can let go of the wall. Your harness will support you.” He demonstrated, bracing his feet, wrapping one hand around the belay line, just above the clip, and easily leaning back into the harness.
Her arms wept for a reprieve. She let go of the wall, but neglected to hold the belay line. Immediately, she tipped to the side, which threatened her footholds. A squeak escaped her throat and for a panicked second she pictured herself dangling like a spider in a windstorm, swinging helplessly, unable to get back to the wall. Then Logan calmly reached out, caught her line, and steadied her. She grabbed a handful of his shirt, accidentally digging her fingers into his side.
“You can, you know,” he said softly.
The sun shone down on them. The calls and coaching among other climbers faded into an indistinct soundtrack.
“Can what?”
He waited to respond until she looked up and met his patient gaze. “Hold on to me.”
There went her heart again, racing away like a hyperactive terrier slipped free of its leash.
“I—”
“Why’d you leave this morning?” There was no acrimony in his voice, just curiosity and a note of something that sounded a lot like disappointment.
She stared at the rock wall and blinked. “I don’t know. I was lying there in the dark realizing I didn’t have the first clue what I would say to you when you woke up. I don’t have any clever, sexy morning-after banter, and I’d probably just make things awkward, so…I left.”
“You’re clever and sexy without saying a word.”
She snorted before she could stop herself. “No, I’m not. I’m so not.” Yeah, that right there? Not clever or sexy.
“Am I going to have to prove this to you? After yesterday, I think we both know I can.”