A part of Zach wanted to tell her not to think like that, but he understood that feeling only too well. It sucked being the one left behind.
She went on. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the sound of his voice. I find myself wondering if I can remember his face without photographs. I kept my old cell phone—the one that had messages from him saved on it. I fell apart when I accidentally ran it through the washing machine and destroyed it. Somehow, it felt like I was losing him all over again. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“No, it isn’t.” He rested her head against his chest. “I may not have met Beau, but I know one thing for certain. He wouldn’t have wanted you to waste a moment blaming yourself. If he loved you at all, he would want you to live a full and happy life without him.”
She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on like that. I haven’t even told my friends at work about Beau or what happened during the storm. I didn’t mean . . .”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s a hell of a thing to have been through.”
He wanted to say more than that. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that life had thrown so much shit her way. He wanted to remind her that if it weren’t for her, he’d be dead right now. He wanted to tell her that if it were simply a matter of crossing the river Styx and trading places with Beau, he’d be gone in a heartbeat.
But he didn’t.
She drew back from him, wiping the tears from her face, clearly embarrassed that she was crying in front of him. But, hell, who could blame her?
“I think the rain’s letting up.”
THE RAIN DID, indeed, stop, and the sun came out. Within fifteen minutes the air was warm again. Feeling both embarrassed about having fallen apart in front of Zach and grateful that he’d listened, Natalie concentrated on the scenery. Pools of water shimmered in the light of the setting sun, tiny ponds and puddles drawing thirsty wildlife. She saw pronghorns and more javelinas, and she thought for a moment she’d spotted a mountain lion. And then she noticed something odd—the sound of running water.
She stood, walked out of their little haven and downhill around to the side of the rock outcropping, where she discovered a little waterfall. Only about ten feet high and no more than a foot wide, it spilled from a crack near the base of the stone, down the slope, where erosion had washed the sand away, leaving granite. But it had stopped raining almost twenty minutes ago, which meant that this must be . . .
“A spring.” Zach’s voice came from beside her. He stood beside her, rifle in hand, as always. “It probably taps an aquifer near the surface and only runs when there’s been a downpour.”
Then an idea came to her—a crazy, wonderful idea. “Is there any soap in that backpack of yours?”
“I think the first-aid kit has a small bar.”
She turned on her heels and marched back uphill. “I’m taking a shower.”
“You’re . . . What?” He followed.
“I’m taking a shower.” She opened his pack and began to rummage through it.
“Here, let me find it. You’re going to mess up my system.”
She stepped back, watching as he moved things carefully aside, withdrew the first-aid kit, then handed her a small bar of soap. “Thanks. I can’t wait to feel clean again.”
She made her way back down to the little waterfall and was about to undress, when Zach insisted that he check the site to make sure there wasn’t anything there that could harm her. Once he was satisfied, she stripped, sliding out of boots and socks and her still-damp pants, T-shirt, and panties and setting them down on a dry rock.
She supposed she ought to feel self-conscious being naked in the open air like this, but there was no one there apart from Zach, and he’d seen it all before. She grabbed the soap and stepped through the sand into the stream of water. It wasn’t as cold as she’d thought it would be, but it wasn’t warm either.
Working quickly, she lathered her entire body, then rinsed herself off, bubbles sliding downhill over stone. Then she tilted her head back and let the water wash her hair, the thought of being clean—if even for a moment—invigorating.
“Let me help.”
Startled, she whirled about to find Zach standing gloriously naked, his clothes piled with an AK beside hers. He took the soap from her and worked some into her hair just at the base of the strands, gently massaging her scalp. Then he lathered her back, his hands moving in slow, titillating circles down to her buttocks. “Rinse.”
She hadn’t intended this shower to lead to sex, but his touch changed that. She faced him, took the soap from his hands. “Your turn.”
She lathered him well, savoring the feel of hard muscle beneath soap-slick skin as she rubbed her hands slowly over his chest, belly, and upper thighs, aroused by touching him—and being touched by him. He palmed her breasts, played with her nipples, while she slowly spread lather over those abdominal muscles she loved, her fingers tracing the veins low on his belly before grasping his erection.
He groaned, dragged her hard against him. “God, Natalie, what the hell have you done to me? I can’t keep my hands off you.”
There was true desperation in his voice, and she felt a feminine thrill to know that she affected him so strongly. She yielded to his kiss, the rasp of his chest hair on her nipples making her ache for him. “Please! Now!”
He stepped away for a second, grabbed something from his pile of clothes. A condom. In a heartbeat, he had it out and quickly rolled it onto himself.
Then he reached for her, lifted her against him, the head of his cock nudging impatiently against her, seeking entrance. She wrapped her legs around his hips, held tight to his shoulders with one arm, then reached down to guide him inside her.