Paradise Peak (New Americana 5)

She, of all people, knew everyone had events in their past they wished they could forget. She’d already been through hell—in more ways than one. But what had happened to cause Travis to think he was less than the brave, kind man she’d come to know?

And he was just that—a strong, protective man. He could’ve walked away at any moment today. Could’ve wished her, Red, and Margaret well, then left to save himself. But he hadn’t. He’d chosen to stay, and he’d risked his own life more than once for others.

“Why did you stay for Blondie?” Hannah asked. “The fire was so close and the smoke so thick, we could hardly see. You could’ve been trapped by that barbed wire just as easily as her, or not made it out in time. Why’d you stay?”

“She was still breathing,” he rasped. “She was alive, and worth saving as much as any human.” His tone turned adamant. “I don’t disregard life. I don’t.”

“I know.” Her throat closed and she swallowed hard past the knot in her throat. “You’re the exact opposite of Bryan.”

Travis lowered his head as his gaze moved over her, then stopped, his eyes narrowing on her arm. He touched the inner skin of her left elbow and traced his fingertip across the three-inch scar marring her skin.

“Did Bryan do this?”

Hannah nodded, recalling the pain she’d experienced when Bryan, in one of his rages, had used a knife to intimidate and bend her to his will. She recalled all the times she’d allowed Bryan to hurt and control her. The fear she’d carried for years; her refusal to take a chance on anything or anyone. Not really living at all . . . even long after she’d left him.

“You’re wrong about something, you know?” She slid her hand down Travis’s warm neck and over his sculpted shoulders, then pressed her palm against the center of his wide chest. “Just breathing doesn’t mean you’re alive.”

Travis closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face, then refocused on her. “I need to tell you something. Years ago, I—”

“Please don’t.” Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back, her fingertips fumbling over his lips. “I don’t want to look back right now. I want to do like you said. I want to look forward.”

She studied Travis’s face, cherishing the warmth in his gentle expression and the desire in his eyes as he looked down at her. Then she pressed closer, aligned her body to him, and savored the way her soft curves filled the hard contours of his, as though, given time, they might be the perfect fit.

Oh, how she wanted that. How she wanted to know his thoughts, his dreams and hopes for the future. Wanted to kiss, laugh, and . . . maybe even love again.

“I haven’t lived in a really long time,” Hannah whispered, rising on her toes. “And I want to try to again”—she touched her lips to his—“with you.”

CHAPTER 8

Travis closed his eyes and parted his lips; the warm press of Hannah’s mouth against his and her soft breaths brushing his cheek swept through him on a rush of pleasure, making his legs tremble.

Heaven. He’d never been able to imagine it before—had never been able to conjure it with words or images. But right now, with Hannah kissing him, touching him, approving of him . . . he could feel its pleasurable glow in every dark corner of his heart.

“Hannah . . .”

Her tongue touched his, then retreated, her sweet taste flooding his senses just before she lifted her mouth from his.

Her wide eyes had darkened to a midnight blue and her pink lips trembled. “You don’t want me?”

The wounded expression crossing her face turned the pleasure spiraling through his veins into pain. “Yes.” He cradled her face and lowered his head, whispering, “I want you.”

More than anything. Body hardening, he caressed his thumb over her reddened lips, ran his palms over the delicate skin of her neck and smooth shoulders, then rested his hand over the upper swell of her breast.

Her heart pounded rapidly beneath his touch and he dipped his head, kissing her flushed skin. A sound of pleasure left her lips, making him eager to hear her satisfied sigh again. He trailed more kisses over the upper swells of her breasts, above her collarbone and up her neck, pausing when he reached the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Travis pulled in a strong, steadying breath, the fresh scent of her damp hair filling his lungs, then touched his lips to the soft shell of her ear. “I want you,” he whispered. “But we’ve been through so much today, and when I make love to you, I want it to be because you know me—all of me—and want me for who I am. Not because of something I’ve done, or as a result of circumstance.” He forced himself to release her and step back. “So let me be the gentleman you say I am. Let me not rush this.”

Hannah touched her lips with shaky fingertips and stared up at him. Her chest lifted with swift breaths against the towel wrapped around her. “You said you’d do anything I asked.”

He had to lean forward to catch her soft words, and they stoked the desire inside him as well as the guilt. “Yes. And I meant it.” He flexed his hands by his sides. “If you ask me to, I will.”

She studied his face a few moments more, then reached out, her fingers fiddling nervously with a button on his shirt. “Then, will . . .” Tears welled in her eyes and one spilled onto her lashes. “Will you at least hold me?”

Heart aching, Travis wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, sliding his leg between hers and holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. “All night.”

* * *

Vibrations and the heavy whir of helicopter blades woke Travis the next morning.