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Blush(38)

By:Cherry Adair


Grabbing the gutter with one white-knuckled hand, she bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as she and the ladder wobbled precariously, the metal rungs clattering against the gutter as she struggled to remain upright.

Cruz got close enough to clamp punishingly tight fingers around her wrist and could see the muscles in her arm flexing as she grappled to maintain purchase, feel the torque of the delicate tendons as she fought for balance.

Cold sweat bathed his overheated skin. “God damn it, why would you risk your life coming up here?”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m already having heart palpitations, buddy!”

Who the fuck isn’t? “Can you get down by yourself?”

Sweat gleamed on her pale skin and, wide-eyed, she gave her head a small shake. “Can you magically put me on the ground? I just discovered I’m afraid of heights.”

“Are you serious?”

“I really can’t move.” Her entire body visibly trembled, and she whispered, “Help.”

He glanced over the yard. No one was in sight, for now. He could just push her. She wouldn’t survive the fall, and no one would doubt that this was an accident. If she did survive, he could strangle her, quickly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Damn it to hell. He just wasn’t ready to kill her. Not yet.

“Stay where you are. Do not move.”

“No problem,” she mumbled, not moving even her lips.

Cruz slid down the shingles until his legs dangled on either side of her, his dick practically in her face.

Although she remained frozen in place, she gave a small smile as she stared at the bulge in his jeans. “Fascinating, but hardly the place, do you think?”

“Not the time to be a smart-ass. I’m going to climb over you. Hold on to the gutter and fucking stay still.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Suddenly you’re good at taking orders.”

“I’m better at giving them.”

Yeah. He knew. “Hold tight and close your eyes.” Without further warning, Cruz swung his body over the edge of the roof. The enormous irony of the situation was not lost on him. He might very well fall to his death saving her sorry ass.

His body slammed into her back as his feet found purchase on a rung several steps below hers. He closed his hands on the rung above her fingers, and got a mouthful of silky shampoo-flavored hair as he pressed her between his chest and the ladder. “Okay?”

“Couldn’t be better.” She rested her sweaty forehead on his forearm and took a shuddering breath. She wasn’t faking it. She was terrified. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“I don’t give a shit. Start moving down. One rung at a time, slow and steady. I won’t let you fall.”

“Wow. Good to know.” She moved one foot down to the next rung in slo-mo as a full-body shudder ran through her. Which ran through Cruz.

She was terrified, so why the hell was his heart beating so hard and fast? “Clearly you didn’t think this through,” he said, giving her time to calm her erratic breathing.

“Clearly not.”

When there was absolutely no sign of another move, he snarled directly in her ear, “Move your goddamn feet. Now!”

“You can huff and puff until the cows come home, Barcelona. But it’s not helping when you sound as though you’d rather toss me down on my head and get this over with.”

No shit. “I have no patience for stupid people who make bad fucking choices. Move this hand down.” He nudged her fist with his elbow until she released her death grip.

It was a painstakingly slow process moving her down the ladder. “Lean against me and wipe your hand on my pants,” he instructed when her sweaty fingers slipped for the second time.

Death by sweat. He should add it to his repertoire.

She stopped. “Sorry.” Dropping her head back to rest in the curve of his shoulder, she breathed a shuddering sigh. Her hair smelled of tuberose, lemon, and sexy, sweaty woman.

Get the fuck over it. Her. Jesus.

Her white knuckles maintained a shaky death grip on the rungs. “Can’t open my fingers.” Her lips barely moved.

Cruz sighed as he pried one hand off the rung beside her head. She sucked in a breath. “I’ve got you.” Taking her wrist, he swiped her palm down the side of his jeans. Her bones were fragile, slender under his hand. It wasn’t too late. . . .

“Great. Who’s got you?”

“Same person who always does. Me.” Replacing her hand on the rung, he waited until her hold was secure, then switched hands himself and repeated the wipe-off with her other hand. “Halfway there. Move it.”

They were still more than twenty feet from the ground, and the pained squeaks of the wobbling ladder confirmed what he already knew. Their combined weight exceeded the ladder’s capabilities. If he didn’t get her down quickly, they could both topple to the ground.