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. She spread the blankets over him.
He exhaled. “Just need to rest.” His eyes fluttered closed. “Lauren…I found you.”
She jerked back on her heels. He knew her name?
Blind or drunk off her ass. They qualified as the only reasons she wouldn’t remember him, but they didn’t fit. Her eyesight was fine, and she hadn’t gone over the limit with alcohol since college.
Could he be a setup for a date or maybe a strippergram gone wrong? No way. Not even her craziest friends would send her some random guy without a warning. Was he someone interested in buying the cabin? That didn’t fit either. She’d talked to her Realtor, Jan, that morning. Prospective buyers wouldn’t view the cabin until after she’d left. Who was he and why had he come to find her? Stalker scenarios emerged, but her instincts brushed them off.
Thunder boomed. Rain fell in sheets on the windows. Dark roads didn’t mix well with storms, so driving to town wouldn’t happen tonight, and emergency crews probably had their hands full. He’d have to spend the night. She picked up his jeans and searched the pockets. No keys or ID, just a piece of blue paper with numbers. Wetness had washed away the last two digits. A phone number? Lauren set it aside.
In the master bedroom, she changed into sweats and a fitted tee. As she searched through her suitcase, her hand brushed against a small weapons case. For snakes or human intruders, the semiautomatic gave a boost of confidence. Thankfully, she’d never had to fire it in self-defense. Lauren listened for movement. She tucked the gun in the nightstand. For some reason, she felt even safer with him in the cabin. If anything changed, she had a stun gun holstered to her purse.
She threw their clothes in the wash and cleaned up the living room.
He slept.
Her stomach demanded food. She made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and devoured it. If he woke up hungry, she didn’t have much to offer. She’d planned to shop in town. Is that where he’d come from? Who was he? Where had they met? Careful not to wake him, she pressed her hand to his face. A light tan had replaced paleness, and he felt warmer.
He released a low groan, and his legs tangled in the blanket. Lines etched into his forehead.
“Shh. You’re okay.” She smoothed his brow.
He calmed.
She started to head back to the kitchen.
Half-awake, he frowned and clutched her hand. Lauren tilted forward. She planted her hand near his shoulder and flattened the other on his chest.
“No.” He rasped out. “Don’t go.”
“It’s all right. I’m here.” She eased back.
His grip tightened, and he wouldn’t let go.