by Leddy Harper
Resuscitate Me
Leddy Harper
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
Hey You!
About the Author
Also by Leddy Harper
Copyright © 2016 by Leddy Harper
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For My Person…
Thank you for always being there, pushing me when I need it, listening to me, and coming into my life when you did.
CHAPTER ONE
I slapped the bell at the end of the rock wall and stilled for a moment. There was nothing like reaching the top and peering down over your shoulder to see how far you’d gone. Some people measured their accomplishments on the amount of plates they added to the end of an Olympic bar.
But for me, it was how high I climbed.
And right now, staring at the floor thirty feet below, I felt amazing.
The air seemed cleaner at this height. Granted, I was still in the gym, so the air was as fresh up here as it was down at the bottom, but I didn’t focus on that. I took a few more deep breaths before turning my attention to the man beneath me, holding the rope attached to my harness. I was about to give him a nod, informing him I was ready to let go, when something in the corner caught my attention.
Someone in the corner.
And he more than caught my attention. He stole it.
Owned it.
Held it hostage with the heat of his stare. Even from across the room, from thirty feet in the air, hooded and intense eyes froze my movements. Every muscle in my body coiled tight and a fire erupted in my chest.
Thank God for the spotter on the ground. I was so concentrated on the man in the corner that my fingertips slid from their hold on the rock. The toes of my shoes slipped from the grooves in the wall, and I freefell to the bottom.
I may or may not have squealed when my harness gripped me tight. But I must have, given the way Mr. Sexy smirked once I recovered and found my footing on the soft mat below. The burning in my chest ascended into my cheeks and I was forced to look away. Instead of making note of where he went or what he did, I worried about taking off my harness so I could run away.
“You looked amazing up there.” The deep rumbles of a very masculine voice trailed up the backs of my bare arms and tickled the tiny hairs on my neck. The way it hit my ears sounded rough and abrasive, but instead of scratching my skin like wool, his words covered me in a layer of cool satin.
When I turned around, I expected to find him right there. I expected to be mere inches from a man with a hard body and baritone voice. However, to my surprise, he was at least two feet away. Either he’d stepped back or his voice had traveled.
Both were extremely plausible.
He’d moved from across the room to directly behind me without making a sound—then again, the mats lining the floor absorbed almost everything. I watched as his eyes, the color of leaves in the summer, simmered on their exploration of my features. They trailed an invisible line of torrid arousal down my neck, hovered at my slightly exposed cleavage, and then shined with approval when they came back to meet my gaze.
“You climb often?” He took those forest-green eyes off mine long enough to glance at the rock wall behind me, as if I needed that tiny gesture to know what he meant.
Every woman shrugs, and shrugs often. Sometimes, we don’t even know we do it. It’s a natural reaction no matter the conversation, no matter the question, no matter the situation. “What do you want for dinner?” Shrug. “Where do you want to go?” Shrug. “I’ll be home in an hour.” Shrug. But for some reason, when this man asked me a question I knew the answer to, instead of nodding or saying “yes,” I shrugged. I lifted one shoulder, held it there for a beat, and then dropped it with enough effort to cause my arm to sway slightly.
“You don’t know if you climb often?” Before I could raise my shoulder again, one corner of his mouth quirked and the lines around his vibrant eyes deepened. “Well, I guess ‘often’ is subjective. Either that or you’re very modest.” He took a step closer, the smirk still playing on his lips. “Would you like help out of your harness?”
Shrug! Shrug now! Shake it off and…shrug!
His gaze trapped mine and left me completely immobile. Unable to blink, speak, breathe, and definitely not fucking shrug. I stood there, lost in the multi-dimensional depths of his emerald orbs, probably drooling all over myself while he closed the distance between us.
“D–do you w–work here?” I wanted to cover my face—or, at the very least, look away—but I couldn’t. His hands worked the straps of my forgotten harness still strung around my waist while his heavy eyes squinted. His irises danced in animated amusement but his lips were stoic, no longer willing to acknowledge a smile. I couldn’t manage anything other than concentrating on not hyperventilating.
As if he were on a mission to give me complete heart failure, he pulled my body flush against his and began to work on the straps around my back. His short facial hair grazed my cheek and sent shivers up my spine—the good kind. The very good kind that left me mentally begging him to touch me in other, more specific, regions. And then his sexy, rough voice licked my ear when he said, “Yeah…I work here.”
In what I could only describe as an out-of-body experience, he pulled away enough to look at me head-on. A muted thud clattered at my feet. I had no idea what it was, nor did I care. Had I not been desperate for his hands on me again, I would’ve looked and found my harness on the ground, but as it were, I was unable to peel my stare away from his ruggedly handsome features.
“Your cheeks are red. Are you embarrassed or hot?”
Seconds after his sight fell south of my face, his fingertips came to rest on my clavicle. A barely there caress. Not enough to detect if the pads were rough like a man who worked with his hands, or soft like someone who spent all day at a desk. And the eager need for him to touch me more intensified to uncontrollable levels.
“Now your chest and neck are red.” His deep voice dipped, surprising me. I didn’t think it could get lower, but it did, and it dropped until it was nothing more than a heavy, desperate whisper. “I’d say you’re embarrassed, although I’m gonna go with hot. Really hot.”
My voice narrowly slipped past the tightening in my throat as I said, “It is warm in here.”
So warm.
“I wasn’t talking about the temperature.” As if he suddenly noticed where his hand was, he dropped it to his side and took a large step back. His eyes returned to mine, and that smug grin toyed with one side of his mouth again. Though, not a hint of humiliation registered on his face.
I slid my hand around the back of my neck to give me something to do. In awkward situations, I had to do something with my hand
s—otherwise, I’d become extremely uncomfortable and end up making a fool of myself. And I’d already done enough of that. So I gripped my shoulder as if I had a knot or a kink, and tilted my head to the side.
“I’m sorry, you must think I’m rude.” He stuck his hand out and said, “My name’s Carter.”
I lowered my arm and placed my hand in his, his palm engulfing mine. “Kara.”
Finally, the other side of his mouth lifted to even out his smile. A shallow dimple appeared high on his cheek just below the corner of his right eye, and I couldn’t look away from it. It was small, and had his face been clean-shaven, I probably wouldn’t have seen it. But I was glad I did because it was sexy as hell, and it brought attention to his strong jawline and the slightest cleft in his squared chin.
I stopped gawking at his masculine features when he spoke again, still holding my hand in his. “Tara…that’s a beautiful name.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that wasn’t my name, but the way he regarded me with fire in his eyes burned the thought away. He’d just complimented me, and even though he had it wrong, I couldn’t find it in me to correct him. Something about him made my brain useless.
As long as he kept looking at me like I was the last donut in the bakery, I’d let him call me anything he wanted.
Carter released my hand, turned, and walked a few feet away to a set of built-in shelves along the wall. He retraced his steps back to me, wiping his hand with a clean, white towel, and then stood even closer to me. Had I known what he went to get, I would’ve escaped like a thief in the night, stealth like a ninja. He held the terrycloth out, and I realized he’d used it to dry the same hand that had just held mine…
I stood stock-still. I’d gripped the back of my neck moments before he’d touched his palm to mine—my sweaty palm.
And the heat intensified.
Things couldn’t get any worse than that.
Never, ever say things can’t get worse.
Because they can.
And they usually do.
Carter took another step toward me and used the towel in his hand to pat my shoulder. Then my throat. My chest. And up the other side to finish off at the back of my neck. Not once did he look away, or drop that gorgeous grin from his lips. It may have very well been a taunting grin, a passive way to tease me, but standing in such an intimate proximity to him with the scent of pine and menthol whirling in the air between us, I lost all rational thought.
I leaned into his chest, my eyelids fluttering as I breathed him in. His hand stilled on my shoulder, and had I paid more attention, I probably would’ve noticed how motionless he’d become. The only part of his body not suspended in time was his black T-shirt stretched across his hard chest. It rose and fell in a harsh yet steady rhythm.
“Tara,” he breathed out, his calloused voice scratching my temple.
Since I hadn’t corrected him when I had the chance, I didn’t recognize my own name and step away when I should have. Furthermore, I’d been so entranced by his presence, I didn’t realize how close his lips were to my head…meaning my face was that close to his chest. I was too lost in the fog of him, his scent, his warmth. The invisible power he wielded over me rendered me incompetent. It surrounded me, cocooned me in heady endorphins until the tips of my fingers turned icy and pinpricks attacked my legs.
“You smell so good,” I said with my eyes closed. “Like one of those Christmas tree air fresheners you hang from your rearview mirror. You remind me of December back home. Presents. A warm fire. Snow crunching under my boots.” My voice faded into airy syllables, barely making up full words, which seemed to be a feat, considering I couldn’t even make full sentences. Or any sense at all. “What cologne are you wearing?”
“It’s…it’s my deodorant.” Something strong and warm settled on my hips seconds after something hard pressed against my forehead. “Tara,” he said, deeper this time. And again, I didn’t respond, because it wasn’t my name.
I hummed. Because…I couldn’t shrug.
“Tara, are you feeling okay?”
I exhaled. Because…I couldn’t hum.
“Whoa.” The sound was loud, but seemed far off, like it’d come from across the room. And then the heat on my hips grew stronger, digging into me, and the hardness against my forehead disappeared. I felt as light as a feather, like I was flying—or floating in a pool without a raft. My body grew cold, transporting me to a time when I was younger and used to slide down slippery rocks into creeks filled with rushing, freezing water.
Although, it didn’t last long. As soon as the chilly wave covered the entire length of me, a penetrating heat followed, intensifying the tingles along every inch of my skin. The same intensity I’d get when I’d come inside from the snow and immediately sit in front of the roaring fire. And I no longer felt light; instead, a heaviness settled over me like a weighted blanket made of thick wool.
“Tara…” There was that name again. It was repeated several times, growing louder and louder each time it echoed. “Open your eyes.”
Along with the desperate demands, soft moans rang in my ears. They were breathy and slightly erotic. I wanted to open my eyes, but I feared what I might see in front of me. Angry grunts filled the spaces between the harmonious purrs and throaty pleas, and I envisioned myself on the set of a low-budget adult film.
“Come on, Tara.” Something rough caressed my cheek, yet it had a comforting softness to it. “Open your eyes. I know you’re awake. Your lids are moving. Just open them and look at me. Tell me you’re all right.”
More moans resounded through the air, but this time, I realized they were accompanied by a vibration in my chest. I waited to hear it again, and when I did, I took note of the way my throat seemed to contract along with the sound. It took one more—done on purpose to test my theory—before I realized the suggestive noises had come from me.
My eyes opened wide. They didn’t blink open, or flutter open; they popped open and stayed that way as I focused on the face hovering over me. Green eyes met mine. At first, they were hard and narrowed, the space above the bridge of his nose pinched tight. A moment later, they softened, and the valleys in his forehead lessened into shallow lines of worry. Warm sunlight floated around him, adding to the overbearing heat in the room, and it took me a moment to process where I was.
“W–what happened?” I croaked out, sounding very much like my aunt who’s smoked two packs a day for forty years. I tried to sit up, but pressure against my shoulder kept me down. Wherever “down” was.
“You passed out. How are you feeling now?”
I blinked a few times and swallowed harshly. “Embarrassed.”
The lines on his brow disappeared completely and were replaced with amusement. His smile came back without hesitation, along with the dimple below the corner of his eye, and his relief billowed across my face in a rushed wave of humor. “Well, I believe you were that way before you passed out. Aside from that, are you okay?”
It’s funny how the memory works. When I’d opened my eyes and found his, I knew exactly who he was. I recognized his face immediately. Although, I seemed to have forgotten all about the ass I’d made of myself when I met him…however long ago that was. Not once did I stop and question how I knew him, or even try to recall the events leading up to finding him perched above me—until he mentioned how I’d humiliated myself earlier.
“Stupid,” I finally answered with an exasperated sigh.
“I’m going to help you sit up now, nice and slow, but if you start to get dizzy again, I need you to tell me. All right?” He waited until I nodded before taking my hand and easing me upright with a gentle touch on my back. Once he had me sitting—one foot on either side of the bench—he knelt on the floor next me. “How are you feeling now?”
“Still stupid, and I’d feel a lot better if you’d stop asking me how I feel.” I glanced around, noticing we were no longer where we’d been when I’d passed out. We were now in the main part of the gym, the
open area filled with weightlifting machines and grown men gawking at their bulging muscles in the mirrors that lined every wall except the wall of windows to my right. The low sun cascaded through the glass and cast its soothing rays inside. It hit Carter’s back, which lit up a halo around his dark hair. However, it contrasted with the wicked way his lips curled at the corners, leaving him looking nothing like an angel and every bit the devil in disguise.
He reached for something behind me and then produced a bottle of water. “Don’t feel stupid. And I’ll stop asking you as soon as I know you’re okay.”
“I’m awake, alert, and coherent.” Deep breath. “I’m okay.” I snatched the water and tried to open the cap, but it seemed my strength hadn’t fully returned. Carter took it from me and effortlessly twisted the plastic top off. “Thank you,” I whispered while averting my gaze from his.
“At the risk of pissing you off,” he began, his smile filling his words with hidden humor, “are you sure you’re okay? I mean…do you know why you passed out? Has this happened before?”
“If you think it happened because of you…no.”
“Well, I did sweep you off your feet. It’s what fairytales are made of, right? And if you want to get technical, you were a sleeping beauty. And I did wake you up. So I guess that makes me your Prince Charming. If you did pass out because of me…it’s completely justified.”
I couldn’t hold in the giggle and had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from spitting out the gulp of water I’d just taken. I managed to swallow it, only a little dribbling past my lips to my chin, where he used the rough pad of his thumb to wipe it away.
“As amazing as that story would be to tell our grandchildren, I did not faint because of you. I flew in late last night and got up early this morning. I guess I didn’t eat or drink enough before coming in to climb a rock wall.”
“Where’d you fly in from?”
His question took me by surprise. I assumed he’d say something about the dangers of exercising without proper nutrition, but he didn’t. Instead of bringing more attention to my idiocy, I answered him in the hopes we’d stay off topic. “North Carolina. I’m staying with my sister-in-law for the summer. My flight was delayed…twice…so I didn’t get in until almost three. And then I got up at seven. It’s probably just exhaustion, so I wouldn’t flatter myself if I were you.” I arched one eyebrow at him to punctuate my joke in case he didn’t get that from my teasing tone.