Free Reid's Deliverance by Nina Crespo

lightning illuminated the partially covered deck. A man clad in pants and boots lay on his side at the bottom of the steps. Instincts trumped caution. Lauren hurried down and knelt in the grass. A tattoo circled above where she grasped his arm to turn him over. Chilled skin cooled her fingers. On his back, his eyes remained closed. Blood dripped from his temple. Mud streaked his face.
    Lauren put her ear to his chest. He had a heartbeat. “Hey.” She shook him. “Can you hear me?”
    Rain fell harder. A crack of lightning hit in the woods. They had to get moving.
    She leaned down to his ear. “Please get up. I can’t carry you.”
    His low groan spurred her heart rate. He lifted his head, then his shoulders. His torso shook with the effort.
    Lauren shifted partially behind him. “That’s it.”
    The stranger towered over her as he swayed. Not only tall, he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. If he fell, he’d easily take her down, too.
    She caught him around the waist. “Whoa. Hold on. Take it slow. Put your arm around me, but grab the railing.” He followed her directions and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. His musky, masculine scent mixed appealingly with the clean fragrance of earth and rain.
    They made it up the stairs and across the deck. Finally, they stumbled inside the cabin.
    He sagged heavily.
    As they fell near the coffee table, both of his arms tightened around her. He shifted, taking the brunt of the fall. They hit the wood floor with a solid thunk.
    He blinked woozily and clumsily caressed her back. “Are you okay?”
    A pleasurable shiver of déjà vu waved down her spine. Soothing, familiar, he made the perfect pillow. Wait. What was she doing? He needed her help. “I’m fine.” She slipped from under his arm. “Can you make it to the sofa?”
    He lifted up and slumped back down. “I just need to lie here a minute.”
    Lauren whipped off her poncho and tossed it aside. “I’ll be right back.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “It’s okay.” She patted his shoulder. The tattoo. Someone she knew had that same design, but who? “I’m just going to see if I can call for help.”
    “No.” His hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t call anyone.” The hint of desperation in his hazel eyes softened the command. “Please. I just need you.”
    Instead of fear, trust and protectiveness came to life. No. This was crazy, and why didn’t he want medical help? The urge to comply outweighed her reservations. “Okay. Let me get blankets. You’re shivering.”
    He released her and sank back down.
    Lauren ran to the linen closet in the hall for blankets and then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. Starting with his head, she cleaned the blood from his temple. The tiny cut was clotted over, not the massive gash she’d expected with all of the blood. She checked him over. Grass and dirt dotted his hair, faded almost down to skin at the sides. No major injuries, just small cuts marred his muscular chest. A car accident? A fall while hiking in the woods? What had happened to him? “Your jeans are soaked. We need to take them off.” She removed his heavy black boots. A boot knife was sheathed at his ankle. Not unusual to see one. Her father always carried a knife in the woods. She removed it along with his socks. If this guy was hunting, hiking or camping, where was the rest of his gear?
    He reached for his waistband, but his fingers kept slipping away.
    “Let me. I’ll do it.” A sprinkling of damp hair tickled her fingers.
    He exhaled and his abdominals formed into tight ridges.
    She popped open the rivet and slid down the zipper. His black boxer-briefs formed to the distinct curve of his sex. Her breasts tingled. A vivid image popped in of straddling his hips and riding him to climax. Lauren met his hooded, semi lucid gaze. Awareness rippled. She cleared her throat. “Lift your hips.”
    He complied.
    Working together they tugged the wet, muddy denim down his muscular legs.