Chapter 4

      Travis moved silently into the cave an hour later. He saw Madison standing in the sunshine, looking up through the hole in the cave roof at the blue sky above. His body went on red alert. His T-shirt did nothing but emphasize her breasts and slender body. The trousers were far too large on her, bulky, and she’d rolled them up as best she could around her ankles. But that T-shirt... He took a deep breath, grappling with his desires.

      “Hey,” he called, letting her know he’d come back. Madison started and jerked in a breath. “God, you scared me!” She placed her hand against her wildly pounding heart. Travis gave her a look of apology as he placed his rifle against the wall. He was sweating, his skin glistening, that hard look on his face. Only his eyes softened as he shed his gear and stripped down to his T-shirt and cammies. The man had a body that simply took her breath away.

      “Sorry,” he said, meaning it. He walked over to her and frowned. “I thought you were going to wash your hair.”

      Madison made a face. “I didn’t want to sound like a whiner,” she admitted self-consciously. “My shoulders... I can’t lift my arms above my chest to wash my hair. It’s too painful.”

      Frowning, Travis reached out, his large hands covering her shoulders, feeling around the joints. “They’re screwed up because your hands were tied behind your back for eleven hours straight.” She flinched a little when he took her arm and slowly started to raise it. Lowering it, Travis shook his head. “You might have torn rotator cuffs.” If that was so, she would be unable to lift her arms very high at all. It would take a good four to six weeks until she could lift her hand over her head once again.

      “That’s not good if they’re torn,” she muttered, wildly aware of his body, how close he was to her, the care burning in his eyes. Even as he examined her shoulder joints, it sent streams of pleasure through her.

      “There’s nothing I can do except give you Motrin for the pain,” he told her, reluctantly releasing her. Travis stepped back because if he didn’t, he was going to kiss that mouth of hers. “Want to live dangerously?” he asked, grinning down at her as he placed his hands on his hips.

      Puzzled, Madison stared up into his face. All that game face had melted away. The man who stood in front of her right now was pulverizingly sexy. Sensuality dripped off him. “Aren’t we doing that already?”

      He chuckled. “I’m used to it. This is an ordinary day for me out here in the badlands.” He lifted his hand and gently caressed the tangled strands. “Let me wash your hair for you.”

      Stunned, Madison blinked. “You?”

      Travis shrugged. “Why not? I can position the bag and the ruck over there by the pool and get you to lie down. All you have to do is hang your head over my ruck and I can wash your hair.” Travis felt the heat flowing to his lower body. What would it be like to touch that mass of golden hair? He’d literally been itching to thrust his hands through it, to feel it. Madison looked thoughtful.

      “I’d love to get my hair washed,” she admitted, hesitant. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind doing it?” Just the idea of the intimacy of the act sent her pulse racing. She saw amusement in his eyes, that mouth of his relaxed, corners hitched upward. Being touched, really touched by Travis, sent crazy signals all through her body.

      “Naw, piece of cake. I used to wash our quarter horses all the time, scrub them down, clean them up.”

      Madison laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m hardly a horse, but I get the drift. I’ll do almost anything to get that horrible grit out of my hair. It’s driving me up a wall.”

      She was driving him up a wall, but it wasn’t her fault. Travis nodded. “Okay, so let me get the bag and ruck over there.”

      “Do you have a comb? A brush?”

      “No brush. But I do have a comb in my ruck.”

      “Shoot,” she muttered. “Even if you did, I can’t lift my hands high enough to comb my hair out.”

      “I’ll do it for you.”

      Madison watched him walk to the bag, pick it up and shake it out. Travis was not only going to wash her hair, but comb it? That sent a streak of heat down her body. She wavered, wishing she could stop wanting him. Travis had done nothing to indicate he wanted her. Except for that look in his eyes. That intense stare, that hunger she swore she felt coming from him, embracing her.

      Closing her eyes, Madison wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or scream. For the hour he’d been gone, her emotions were flying around and she’d barely held on to them. Shock. God, she never realized what shock did to a person until now.

      Still, Madison wanted her hair washed no matter what her feelings were doing. As Travis got everything in place, she forced herself to walk over to the pool. He was kneeling next to the ruck, his hands on his long, hard thighs.

      “You don’t have to do this,” she said, giving him an unsure look.

      “I want to do it.” Travis patted the ruck. “Come on, lie down. Head here and I’ll hold you.”

      Madison chewed on her lower lip and finally eased down to her hands and knees on the sleeping bag. “You’re sure going above and beyond the call of duty on this one, Travis.”

      He gave her a bemused look and watched as she lay on her back. “SEALs are used to doing just about anything to survive in the badlands. We think outside the box. I never thought I’d put washing and combing a woman’s hair on my list of things I could do.”

      When she put her head over the ruck, Travis curved his hand beneath her long, slender neck, cupping the back of her head. At first she was stiff.

      “Relax,” he urged, picking up an aluminum cup he kept in his ruck.

      Madison eyed him worriedly and then dutifully closed her eyes. His gaze moved across her body. Her full breasts definitely gave his T-shirt new meaning. Her nipples pushed against the fabric. Madison was a curvy woman, not a stick-like model. He preferred his women with some meat on their bones, the softness of their curves, molding them beneath his hands.

      Shutting off his desire, he absorbed the luxury of guiding her hair into the water, watching the flaxen colors become even darker. Her hair was so long, the strands so thick. He slid his fingers to the nape of her neck, easing the strands outward into the water. God, it was a delicious sensation feeling those smooth, thick strands moving like molten gold across the water, sliding through his fingers like wet silk. He felt himself harden and forced himself to focus. He dipped the cup in the water.

      “This is going to be ice cold,” he warned her.

      “Oh, I already know that.” Madison laughed, sliding her hands across her belly and linking her fingers. “I didn’t care. It just felt so good to be clean.”

      Yeah, he knew that one. “Okay, give me your trust,” he coaxed. Travis felt her relax more and finally, she allowed him to hold her head and neck fully. Trust. He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t trust him. Thank God she couldn’t read his mind. She’d never have relaxed in his hand at all. As he ladled the water across her head, her breath hitched for a moment.

      “Told you it was cold,” he said wryly, wetting her hair. As he looked at the strands beneath the sunlight lancing across the cave, he admired the different colors.

      Madison grimaced. “It is, but I’m so grateful you’d do this for me.” And she was. His long fingers easily held her neck and her head. The water was stinging and took away from the pleasure she felt with his fingers upon her flesh.

      “This will be a story you’ll tell your kids someday,” he joked, getting her hair completely wet. After setting the cup aside, he took the bottle of shampoo and drizzled it across her head.

      “I wish I didn’t have a story to tell at all,” she