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He gave her a smile that made her stomach flip over. Then he slipped his shirt off and bent to untie his shoes, and her stomach did more than flip. It danced. Hays’s upper body was strong and muscled. The only men she’d been close to, besides her bodyguards, were the older businessmen type. Not a man who actually used his muscle and his brains to protect and serve others.
The smooth, tanned skin of Hays’s upper body begged her to reach out and touch him. So she did. She released the handle of the rope swing and placed her hand on Hays’s muscular shoulder, awed by how incredible he looked and felt. He glanced up, and his eyes filled with desire for her.
“You let go of the rope,” Easton called.
“Forgive me.” She blushed and turned from Hays.
Hays chuckled softly. He undid the holster around his waist and set it and his pistol on top of his shirt lying on the ground. Then he slid a knife and cell phone out of his pocket and set them with the pistol. She had always been terrified of guns and knives. In her world, those weapons were only used to torture and kill to gain more power or eliminate anyone not aligning their will with her father’s. She shivered at the memories.
Then Hays straightened and smiled at her. He looked the epitome of a hero, but she’d seen other ultra-handsome and well-built men who possessed none of Hays’s qualities. Hays was loyal, thoughtful, and good all the way through. With Hays, the same weapons that inflicted death and agony were used to protect the innocent. Just as he’d proven by defeating Peter with his fists, she could imagine he was an expert with guns or knives.
Hays grabbed the long stick with a hook that was propped against the tree and reached out for the rope, bringing it back to their grasp. Holding onto it with one hand, he said, “Climb up on my back and we’ll swing out together.”
That idea felt even more wild than doing a rope swing in the middle of the day fully clothed. Her heart raced at the mere idea of climbing on his back.
“If you’re certain you can hold me and swing safely.”
“Liz.” His voice was husky and enticing. “I’ve climbed up hundred-foot ropes, swung one-handed over the enemies’ heads, traveled through trees like Tarzan, and scaled cliffs, all while returning fire and wearing gear that weighs more than you do.”
“Oh, my.” It was easy to forget that underneath his clean-cut exterior and kind manner was a Swiss army knife of manly attributes. Without much effort, she could picture him in each scenario, thrilling and horrifying. How had he survived? No wonder he could best Peter like he had. Hays was a hero in every sense of the word.
“We’ve got this.” His smile came then, and she was faint.
“Okay,” she managed. Moving around behind him, she wrapped her hands around the top of his shoulders and quivered at the sensation of touching his smooth flesh and muscles.
“Hop up and wrap your legs around me,” he encouraged.
“Oh, my,” she breathed.
He glanced back with a grin that undid her completely. “Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Needle.”
“Needle who?”
“Needle help right now to get you on my back.”
She smiled and shook her head at him. Then she used her hands to propel her and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He caught her securely with his free hand wrapping around her left leg. She leaned into his broad back and her hands slid over his shoulders and around the bulging muscles of his chest. He groaned softly and tightened his grip on her leg.
Oh, my. This was either a brilliant idea or insanity. She hadn’t experienced thrills like this except with him, yet she was also safer than she’d ever been.
He clung to the rope with his right hand and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you ready to fly and then swim with Superman, Liz?”
“Superman or Tarzan?” she teased, breathless from being pressed so tightly to him, the anticipation of the rope swing, and the meaningful look in his deep-brown eyes. “You have to hold on with both hands.”
His smile grew. “I’m strong enough to hold us both with one.”
“You are?” He’d said he’d swung over the enemies’ heads with one hand while returning fire. She didn’t want him in danger, ever, but her Superman was proving himself capable of defeating untold enemies, even Peter.
He chuckled, but then his eyes grew resolute. “Of course I am. Do you trust me, Liz?”
She studied him and knew this was about much more than a quick thrill and a rope swing. “I do, Hays. I always have.” She didn’t know how he trusted her after being beaten by her guards fourteen years ago, but he’d been the first one to step up and say he believed her, and he’d forgiven her.
“Good. Hold on.”
