Yes, she did, Abigail admitted if only to herself. She also found herself staring at his ass as he walked and wanting to grab and squeeze it like his cheeks were melons. What on earth was the matter with her?
“The boat is gone.”
Abigail dragged her mind out of his pants, well, his metaphorical pants since he wasn’t wearing any, and shifted her attention to the coastline. They were standing at the edge of the trees with a perfect view of the ocean, and he was right. No boat. She glanced to him again, her gaze shifting to his bare bottom as he bent to grab something off the ground.
“Now what do we do?” she asked, a little distracted.
“Now I check your wound,” he announced, straightening and turning to catch her hand. He led her back the way they’d come, but this time taking her deeper into the trees.
Probably in case the boat came back around again, Abigail thought as she followed him docilely. She then frowned and raised her free hand to her head to search for the wound he spoke of. For one moment she had no idea what he was talking about, but when she felt the cloth around her head she recalled hitting it on the cargo door as they’d left the plane. In fact, that was the last thing Abigail remembered before waking up here.
“How did we get here?” she asked curiously as they walked. “Did the parachute bring us to this shore?”
“No. The parachute landed us in the ocean. We swam all night,” he answered.
She translated that in her head to mean he had swum and dragged her with him since she hadn’t been conscious to swim herself. She also gathered it meant they’d landed really far out, although he hadn’t wasted the words to actually say that. Now she wondered how far out they’d landed and how far he’d had to drag her unconscious body to get here. It couldn’t have been easy swimming while dragging her.
He’d saved her life, she realized. And bandaged her up, she added, feeling the cloth around her head again. It felt like gauze, which reminded her of the first aid kit she’d been holding when they’d left the plane. She doubted she’d managed to hold on to it after she’d lost consciousness, so supposed he must have taken it from her. It was a wonder he’d been able to swim at all while dragging everything with him, she thought guiltily. She hadn’t really been much help in this escape. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t wanted to escape this way, leaving Jet alone with the kidnappers.
“Here is good.” Coming to an abrupt halt, Tomasso turned to face her and gestured to the ground.
Abigail translated that to a suggestion to sit and did so only to find herself staring at his junk now swinging in front of her face.
“Really, Tomasso, we need to find you something to wear,” she muttered almost wearily, averting her eyes. His erection had wilted in the past few moments, but wasn’t completely gone. It was still magnificent and distracting.
“Here,” he said abruptly, and held out what he’d picked up earlier.
The first aid kit, Abigail realized as she took the red packet. He’d been picking it up when she’d asked “Now what do we do?” She just hadn’t seen it because she was distracted by his bare bottom as he bent over. He really had a nice one, Abigail thought. And a nice chest, and nice arms, and legs and—
She gave her head a shake, which not only ended her inner recital of his pretty body parts, but dislodged her eyes from his bottom as he disappeared into the jungle again. He did seem to walk away a lot, Abigail thought now. The good news was that he always came back . . . so far.
Tomasso wasn’t gone long this time; five, maybe ten minutes. Abigail stared at him blankly when he returned, her gaze caught by the splash of green over his groin. He’d fashioned a sort of loincloth out of leaves, weaving the stems together with some kind of vine that ran around his waist. But the man obviously had no clue just how big his junk was, the leaves didn’t quite cover the tip.
“Better?” he asked as he approached.
“You need bigger leaves,” she said dryly. Her words made him pause and frown down at himself. She doubted he could see the problem from above though, so she wasn’t surprised when he said, “Is fine.”
“Right,” she muttered and simply resigned herself to continuing to avert her gaze . . . at least when he was looking. She took too much pleasure in looking at him to do it all the time. She wouldn’t want him to notice her devouring him with her eyes though, so she’d just have to peek when he wasn’t aware she was.
“How bad is it?” Abigail asked when Tomasso settled to sit cross-legged in the sand in front of her and began to unravel the bandage from around her head.
“Not so bad,” he assured her. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at the moment,” Abigail admitted with some surprise, only now becoming aware of the fact, and then she added, “But it did when I woke up.”
His response was a grunt as he finished removing the bandages and dropped them to the sand. He then took her head in hand and tilted it down so he could better examine her wound.
Abigail waited patiently, her gaze dropping to the discarded bandages, but when she saw the blood on the cloth, her eyes widened with alarm. “It bled.”
“Sì. Why else the bandage?” Tomasso asked patiently, poking at the wound.
“Yes, but . . .” she began, then let the words die away. He was absolutely right. Why else would there be a need for bandages? She just hadn’t realized she’d actually bled and was a little startled to know she had. Sighing, she waited as he took the first aid kit from her and opened it. Abigail frowned though when she saw him retrieve an antiseptic ointment and open it.
“Is it bad?” she asked with concern as he smeared the cool gel on her forehead.
“No. This is the jungle.”
That was all he said. Fortunately it was enough. This was the jungle. Infection could set in easily in this moist heat. The ointment was a precaution. She remained silent and merely watched as he retrieved a large bandage from the pack and quickly opened it. Abigail found it somewhat reassuring that it was just a bandage this time, and not gauze he felt needed to be wrapped around her head. Surely that meant the wound was healing. Right?
She hoped so. But she also wished she had a mirror to check it out herself.
“Wait here. Rest.”
Pulled from her thoughts, Abigail glanced up with surprise at this latest order, but he was already disappearing into the woods again. Honestly, the man spent most of his time walking away from her, she thought and noted absently that his butt cheeks were the last part of him to disappear into the trees. He hadn’t covered them with leaves, she noted and was glad.
Rolling her eyes, Abigail glanced around briefly, and then looked down to where she sat. It was a nice sandy bit in the crook of the roots of a tree. A perfect bed, really, she decided. And realized she was tired. They couldn’t have been awake long, but she was already exhausted. It must be the heat, Abigail thought. Or perhaps just the emotional turmoil she’d been through since waking up. Whatever the case, the idea of lying down and resting for a minute was an attractive one despite her earlier worries about snakes and bugs. Abigail did perform a quick inspection of the area first though, just to be sure there wasn’t anything around that might bite her, but then she stretched out, shifted onto her side and closed her eyes. She would just rest for a little bit. Just until Tomasso returned, she assured herself. Then they would no doubt have to start walking in search of civilization. They needed a phone so she could check on Jet and so Tomasso could call . . . whoever.
Tomasso’s footsteps slowed as he broke out of the trees and stepped into the small clearing where Abigail waited. She was curled on her side under the tree where he’d left her, sleeping soundly.
His gaze slid over her pale skin and the exhausted shadows under her eyes. She’d remained unconscious for quite a while after they’d left the plane. She hadn’t woken through the swim to this island, or even as he’d carried her ashore and settled her next to him under the palm trees as dawn broke. But unconsciousness wasn’t the same as sleeping and she obviously needed rest.
Tomasso shifted his feet, and then set down the coconuts he’d gathered and straightened to peer at her as he considered the situation. They needed to find civilization and a phone. He needed to call in and let his family know he was all right and that Caracas was where they needed to look for the other missing immortals. He also needed to find out whether his brother had managed his escape successfully or not. Dante hadn’t wound up in a cage next to him again, which seemed to suggest he had, but Tomasso needed to know for sure.