12
Shanti undressed, laid her clothes across the mattress, and went to work cleaning the cut on her shin. It was a little deeper than she’d thought and needed antiseptic and a bandage from the first aid kit. When that was done, she knelt naked by the bucket of cold water, took a bar of soap and a large gauze pad, also from the first aid kit, and dipped both into the water. She washed her face first and then her throat and nape, working her way down her body, washing away sweat and stress.
Oh, the water felt good, bringing her back to herself after a day so terrifying and strange that it didn’t seem real. She’d been abducted, watched Connor get shot, held a gun, seen Connor kill two men, lived through a helicopter crash, seen an angry wild gaur, and walked twenty miles through the monsoon forest. And now, she was sleeping in a tree house—as one apparently did in these situations.
You’d be in General Naing’s hands—or dead—if not for Connor.
She remembered the fury on his face when he’d forced the pilot to turn around, a kind of feral anger she’d never seen. Before today, that kind of rage might have terrified her, but today it had made her feel safer. He’d done what he’d done to save her life and his. He had killed two men—and she was grateful.
She abhorred violence. And yet…
Did that make her a hypocrite?
For good people like you to build a better world, Shanti, there have to be people like me willing to back you up with force. Otherwise, the bad guys win.
What if he was right? What if justice and freedom and all the things she loved depended on some level of violence to secure them?
She poured a little of the water into an empty water bottle to rinse her skin and wash between her thighs, letting the water spill to the floor. Thank God she wasn’t on her period.Thatwould be a drag to manage in the jungle.
She filled the bottle again, this time pouring it over her head, working the water through her hair. She didn’t have shampoo, so that would have to do. She found her comb, crawled inside the mosquito netting, and sat on the bed. She had just started combing the tangles from her hair, when the door opened and Connor stepped inside.
She dropped the comb, covered her bare breasts. “Is it ten minutes already?”
He said nothing but barred the door behind him, his gaze sliding over her, water dripping off his camo-pattern rain gear and onto the wooden floor.
Embarrassed to have gone over her time, she tried to explain. “I cleaned a cut on my leg. I guess I took too long. Sorry. I was just combing my hair. I’ll get dressed and—”
“Let me help.”
Her pulse quickened.
He took off his rain gear and his boots and socks and slipped inside the mosquito netting to sit behind her, his weight making the mattress shift. “Give me your comb.”
His voice was deep and soft like it had been the night he’d kissed her.
Had that been just last night?
How her life had changed in twenty-four hours.
She handed him the comb, one arm still covering her breasts, her nipples drawing tight at the memory of what it had felt like to kiss him.
He caught the damp mass of her hair, drew it over her shoulder so that it hung down her back, his fingers grazing her nape, the accidental touch sending shivers down her spine. “I love your hair.”
“I didn’t have shampoo.”That was a stupid thing to say!
“Doesn’t matter. It’s still beautiful—like black silk.” He took the comb and slowly worked from the ends, taking care not to pull her hair.
He sat so close that she could feel his body heat, so close that she could smell the salt of his skin and the scent of rain that clung to him.
He set the comb on the mattress beside her, his big hands sliding up her arms to cup her shoulders, his touch making her shiver. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Other men had said that, but it hadn’t affected her the way it did now.
She tilted her head to the side in invitation, hoping against hope that he would forget the rules for just a moment and kiss her. Yes, he was still her bodyguard, but the situation was different now, wasn’t it?
The first tentative touch of his lips against her skin made her gasp, her heart racing, tingles spreading along her nape. “Yes.”
His hands moved to cup her breasts, felt their weight, gave them a gentle squeeze.