Running Fire. Lindsay McKennaЧитать онлайн книгу.
it was a small gift that he could give to Leah. And soon, her eyes closed and she fully relaxed, her soft lips parting.
Smiling to himself, Kell knew the luxury of having one’s hair washed because his grandmother used to lie there and sigh with pleasure, too. Leah didn’t, but that was all right. He could see all the tension dissolving from her face and the length of her body.
“I’m afraid my shampoo has no smell to it,” Kell told her, opening the bottle. “Out here when I’m hunting, the Taliban can pick up on a foreign odor and know there’s an enemy nearby. I learned a long time ago to get lye soap that has no scent to it.”
“Wise choice.” Leah sighed, feeling his fingers gently begin to massage her scalp. He had removed the dressing from her head earlier and he was very gentle and very careful around the stitched wound. Still, just to get the blood out of her hair, Leah was utterly grateful for his thoughtfulness. “I’ve never had a man wash my hair before,” she admitted, her voice sounding breathless even to her.
“Well, if this doesn’t go right, don’t blame the next male hairdresser you get.” He laughed.
“No...you’re doing...wonderfully. It feels so good,” Leah whispered, feeling the tingles his fingers were creating by lightly massaging her scalp. Leah had no idea how much tension she’d been holding until it disappeared beneath his seductive fingers.
“Oh, good, then you’re not going to fire me.” Kell grinned, rinsing the soap from her sleek, gleaming strands. He heard Leah laugh, his hand cupping and supporting the back of her head. Her skin felt like soft, warm velvet to him. Feeling a bit like a thief, Kell enjoyed touching Leah. He felt good making her laugh. It was better than seeing stark terror lurking in her eyes. Who had scared her so much that she reacted with such a deep, automatic fear?
Once her hair was rinsed free of the soap, he put the bowl aside. Kell held her head up and awkwardly placed a towel around the dripping strands of her hair. “Okay, I’m going to get you up into a sitting position. You ready?”
Leah was sorry it was over. “Yes.” She felt the towel around her head and held it in place with her right hand. Kell gently eased her into a sitting position and then came around to her right side.
“Here, let me? Tough to dry hair with one hand.” Kell took the towel and carefully dried her long, thick hair. Taking a look at the gash on her skull, he said, “The cut is healing nicely. I think we’ll let it air-dry tonight. I’ll put some antibiotic ointment on it and that’s all it should need.”
“I have a medic and a hairdresser all wrapped up in one,” Leah teased. “That feels dry enough, Kell, thank you.” She wanted his hands on her, but at some point the surging pleasure rippling through her would stop. Kell was so damn personable. He slid inside her heavy, protective walls as though they’d never existed.
Kell stood and pulled out a comb from his pocket. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to her. Wanting to sit and watch her, he forced himself to move away from Leah. Watching her was a sensual pleasure all its own in his world. He emptied the water into a channel leaving the pool and hung the wet towel and washcloth in the other cave on some rocks to dry. When he ambled back in, he smiled. Leah had finished combing her hair. The ends were damp and slightly curled across her shoulders.
“Now, don’t you feel better?”
Handing him the comb, Leah admitted softly, “I feel a million times better. Thanks so much, Kell.” And she wished she could do something to repay him for his generosity. She watched as he sat down against the wall after moving his sleeping bag over to it.
“My grandma, who had bad arthritis in her hands, would always bake me chocolate-chip cookies as a thank-you for washing her hair weekly.” Kell smiled fondly, remembering those good times.
“I’m afraid I’m a nonstarter in a kitchen,” Leah admitted.
“Tell you what. Next time we happen to both be at Bravo, you can buy me a beer over at the canteen. Fair enough?” He caught her gaze. She looked infinitely better. The tension was gone. So was the terror. Instead, Kell saw her green eyes radiant with warmth. Was that warmth for him? He could feel it, but didn’t try to interpret what it meant. That would get him into dangerous quicksand real fast.
“That’s a deal,” Leah promised, her voice passionate. “I need to thank you for everything you’re doing for me, Kell. I really appreciate it.”
“No need to pay me back,” he murmured. “My ma always taught me you treat others like you would like to be treated. It’s been the rule I’ve lived my life by.”
“Tell me about yourself. You said your parents moved from Alabama to Kentucky. How did you become a SEAL?”
“The short version,” he said, pushing his long legs out in front of him. “My pa, who is a dairy farmer, was in the Army for four years. He thought it was good I do my duty to my country, so I joined the Navy. I’d heard about the SEALs and applied. I got in, managed to survive BUD/S, and here I am.”
“You didn’t want to be a farmer?”
“No. I’m a rolling stone.” Kell chuckled. “I liked being outdoors, I liked challenges and I was a pretty active kid. I liked what the SEALs offered me. I believed I could make a difference in the world, take out the bad guys so the good men and women could live.”
“You don’t strike me as being black-and-white,” Leah murmured. “You’re a good observer of the human condition. That encompasses a lot of gray areas.”
Shrugging, Kell said, “I’m aware of the gray areas. But when it comes to a bad guy who’s going to kill one of my brothers, or anyone on our side who is fighting over here, I’m very clear about pulling the trigger. I don’t enjoy it, but I know someone has to do it. Does that make more sense?” Ballard absorbed her thoughtful expression. Shadow pilots were aggressive in combat, too. They didn’t just drop black ops men off from a helo. They were often in direct combat protecting men on the ground, too.
“Makes sense to me,” Leah agreed. She moved her fingers through her clean hair. It felt like she’d lost a pound of dried blood, sweat and dirt out of the strands. “I have a tough time seeing you in the role of a hunter-sniper.”
“Oh, you met the nice side of me is all,” he said, chuckling. “I’m not out there offering to wash a Taliban soldier’s hair, believe me.”
Leah laughed with him. “Point taken.”
“You have any brothers or sisters?” Kell asked. Instantly, he saw he’d just stepped on another land mine with her. Damn. If she’d had a miserable marriage, which is what he surmised by her reaction earlier, and an unhappy childhood, it was no wonder she was so closed up. Kell could feel her hiding; had sensed it all along.
“Yes,” she said, her voice low. “Evan was my older brother by one year.” Leah tensed and then figured to hell with it. “When I was eight, Evan was nine. My father was on assignment in Rhode Island and when winter came, we’d go for walks. One morning, after a heavy snow, Spike, our dog, went running out into a field where we were walking. He fell through the ice and into a frozen pond.” The corners of her mouth drew in. “Evan went to rescue him and so did I.” She looked up and held Kell’s somber gaze. “We didn’t realize the ice would break. Evan fell in. And then I did, too. The dog managed to climb up my back and got to thicker ice. I tried to rescue Evan, but he disappeared below the water and I was so cold I could barely move. Somehow, I pulled myself up on the ice. About that time, my father found us.”
“I’m sorry,” Kell offered. Was that why she looked so haunted? “Did you blame yourself for not rescuing Evan?”
Giving him a dark look, Leah nodded. “My parents were grief-stricken. A month afterward, my mother had a heart attack and died. I’m sure Evan’s death triggered it. My father went into deep shock.”
“So you were a little eight-year-old girl who was grieving for two losses, then.”
Touched