by Beth Mikell
Hex forgot to breath.
He was slammed hard with a mother-naked-load of desire until all he wanted to do was gather her close and beg for forgiveness. She never faded as a flower--diva style; she was beautiful. Her blonde hair was drawn up inside a sophisticated chignon, but he knew what it was like to twist his hands within the silken strands and breathe deep of her fresh spring scent. The pinstripe skirt suit all the way down to the red stilettos screamed at his insides to do more than just look—he ached to settle between her thighs. Her hard, cool eyes pelted him with disdain, while her full lips were set in an intolerable curve of anger he wanted to replace with a smile.
It was more than her looks that revved up his heartbeat; rather her mere presence that he craved. Oh no, it was her words, laughter and quick tongue which could barb a saint into foul language that he missed. There was no boundary to the woman’s inner sarcasm that hadn’t turned him inside out and met him on the same plateau through each level of his inner madness.
He just sat there, staring, beating up his inner jerk, which deserved the cold, frigid shoulder she gave him. No description on God’s earth could describe his lank spirit…except maybe a shovel to bury his mistakes in for what he’d done. But, she ran.
He couldn’t follow her…at least, not yet.
Two hours later, he stood inside the transformed banquet hall of Sherrod Towers and Hex observed the elegant transformation with a heavy sigh. He saw the reflection of Savannah throughout the room and he stood basking in the light of his discovery for just a moment…wishing she would appear and smile…just for him. Damn fool dreams needed some work because he was sorely out of practice.
Angelo approached him with a smile, “Hey man! Where did you disappear too?” He offered his hand.
Hex took the proffered and shook hands with a small smile, his teeth on edge. “To hell and back. I have the stamp across my ass to prove it. Is your boss around? I need to speak with her a moment.” If Angelo thought anything strange about him wearing a suit and tie, he never gave any indication, which was fine by him--he had no explanation to give.
The foreman’s eyes changed from happiness to startled apprehension, casting a glance over his shoulder as if the walls had ears. “Sure, she’s in the back, but word of warning…she’s…not a happy camper.”
Neither was he. Hex nodded his head, “Well, I’ll take my chances. Can you lead the way?”
Less than a minute later, Hex stood outside Savannah’s makeshift, closet office and he knocked on her door.
~~~
“Tony, if that's you…don’t bother coming in,” she called out, using her last nerve to stitch her heart back together…and it was painful. Yet, so was loving an idiot with the morals of an alley cat…the two didn’t enmesh, but her pain remained. For sanity's sake, she didn’t need an audience to make the theatrical performance real and enticing.
As the door opened, her blood chilled--ice cold with Hex standing larger than life in the threshold within his expensive suit and azure blues beating a hole through her reserve. Where she found her voice, God only knew. “If you’re here regarding the metal contracted work, it’s finished. If you’re here to discuss the fundraiser, Sean is preferable to Steve Mendel. If none of the above get the hell out of my office…and slamming the door is, of course, optional.”
Claws and fangs, nice beginning, but Hex proceeded forward and shut the door behind him, yet there wasn’t a lot of space to move to within small confines of her new office. One desk, filing cabinet and couple of metal shelves, which resembled a janitor closet, complete with the tinge of industrial cleaner filling the air. Perfect…and damnable clean.
“I need to talk to you.”
With a half laugh, Savannah turned back to her computer screen, appearing to work as she tapped on the keyboard, but her heart skipped past go into rapid, stealing her breath with him so close. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well I do.” He walked around the desk and swung her chair back away from the computer, leaning down. He placed his hands on either side of the chair arms, his face inches away, “I’m sorry, princess.”
She swallowed hard, looking up into his face so close to hers. She ached to throw caution to the almighty wind and thrust herself into his arms, but opted for the less likely approach. “Beat it, Montgomery. You’re clearly in the wrong office and I’m finished with your games.”
Hex straightened and reached up to run his hand through his inky hair in frustration, “Dammit, Savannah! I came to apologize. Do you have to be so stubborn?”
She tilted her head to the side and brought one manicured fingertip to her chin to tap against contemplation at the very question, “Hmmm, do I? Shall we hold a summit on matter and make an international law on the very idea?”
Yep, still pissed. “Can you back down the sarcasm for two seconds and listen to me?”
“Fat chance, buddy. Clearly, you are out of touch with reality and I’m no mood to shell out forgiveness. So, leave.”
Hex yanked her up to face him, his hands biting into her arms, “Listen, I know I’m not high on your list of favorite people right now,” he said and winced inwardly when she snorted, but he continued, “I came to apologize, though I’m not as suave as I’d like to be.”
Tears sprang in her eyes and her hands came up to push at his chest, knocking his arms off. “Try, you suck at it! And don’t touch me! I’ve had just about enough of this conversation I care to have. You think an apology makes up for your excellent manners? I’m touched. Now, get out before I call security.”
He leaned closer, daring her, “I’m not leaving.”
Savannah turned to reach for the phone, but he prevented her by grasping her wrist, dragging her up into his arms. Stunned, she reveled in the contact, her body nearly on fire with exuberant glee. Damn him. His husky, male scent washed over her and her body eagerly responded, pounding her heart up into her throat. Pleasure burst through every cell, clamoring for the sweetness found only within his arms. But, she blamed him for leaving…borderline hated him, yet within his arms, she quite possibly became her worst enemy. It had to end.
“Stop Savannah. I know I’m a jackass, but please hear me out.”
“Ha! What a surprise.” She sneered, pushing out of his arms, walking around the desk towards the door and he didn’t move to stop her. She spun around to stare him down, her capped emotions spilling out like a sieve—uncontrolled. “I don’t know why the hell I even care that you disappeared with a junior high note passed on my pillow, but somehow it fucking matters to me, dammit and I hate that! I don’t like missing anyone, Mr. Montgomery.” She sneered over his name with emphasis.
He ignored her stinging words and grasped onto a glimmer of hope, his heart puffed with encouragement, “You missed me, princess?” A smile split his face with genuine pleasure, nearly hopeful…yet still cautious.
The man was definitely an ass with a devastatingly handsome smile. “Don’t change the subject, Hexon.” He took two steps closer…so close her spring scent shot through him…enough to push him over the edge of sanity, “So it’s Hexon now? Are you going to send me to detention too, Ms. Deason?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, defensive as the day was long, “Is everything a joke to you? Are you a sadist? A love ’em and leave ’em sort for the hell of it? Mr. I’m-a-fucking-CEO, yet let’s pretend to be something I’m not! God, men…” she trailed off, turning to reach for the doorknob, but…Hex reacted first.
He pulled her right back into his arms and his mouth planted exactly over her parted, surprised lips. The ice melted between them, cracking the air with sizzle with the heady aroma of musk, spring and industrial cleaner threading throughout the small room. But, it was the bonding of tongues, sliding wet and slippery until heat festered and taste bloomed that flamed higher.
With one arm around her waist, his other hand came up to cup the back of her neck, anchoring her deep within his arms—he wasn’t about to let go…not without a fi
ght. Yet, the battle was fleeting with her essence bursting over his, filling the drought of the last few weeks without her. God…she tasted wonderful. Passion, starvation and deliverance rendered his body nearly unconscious, hammering his desire through a slingshot of rampant longing all the way through to his stiff erection. Yet, he ached for her in ways that surpassed the physical. Needy emotions swelled deep within his chest, shattering his asinine prejudices against the female sex. Yet…only for her. Only for Savannah. Still, he drowned, uncaring where the next road would lead.
At the first touch of his mouth, Savannah found herself flayed open on a rack of broiled flame…exactly where she wanted to be--his taste enveloping her, his tongue branding and sweet until she couldn’t breathe. His…his everything handed right to her and heaven couldn’t be more perfect. With her sanity all but gone, she reached up and sank her hands into his dark hair, urging him closer to the fire she sought, tugging ardently. Hex was never enough…never sweeter like a balm over her empty soul. Foamy, rich sweetness coated her through her veins in pleasure, licking her through a river of desire, searing her. And all the while the seeds of her love blossomed under every delicious, sensual stroke of his tongue over hers. More…her mind cried out through a haze of desire.
He wanted atonement for his sin against her.
She wanted him…but not at the cost of only physical desire. She stiffened in his arms as rationality filled her mind with truth versus what could happen inside the small space.
Savannah pushed against his chest hard, breaking the kiss, stunning Hex. “Enough! This-this doesn’t change anything,” she stammered. “It only proves we are good at one thing and that’s not enough for me,” she whispered, spinning around before he could respond, grabbing the doorknob and flinging the door wide.
She stormed out of the room in anger, her stilettos slipping on a wide piece of blue plastic. Her momentum didn’t allow for sudden brakes and neither did her heels, causing her to trip over a pile of leftover construction debris.
Hex tried to reach for her, but came up with only air as her legs twisted around the pile of rubble and a definite snap was audible through her scream. Whether the snap was of broken bone or broken garbage as she hit was uncertain, but Hex moved to her side, his arms encircling her waist. He lifted her gently, pulling her onto his lap as though she weighed nothing.
“Savannah, I’ve got you.” His hand smoothed over her pain-filled face, pulling her dark eyes to meet his blue by sheer will. “Where does it hurt? Talk to me,” his voice warm and tender.
Savannah gasped as fire burned through her left leg and she reached out a hand to her knee,
“My…ankle,” she panted through deep, ragged breaths.
He reached down to pull off both her shoes, inspecting her left leg down to the tips of her toes. His hands lightly smoothed down over her skin, testing and he noted discoloration and puffiness.
She gasped as he reached her ankle, the pain the strongest at that point and she bit her lip against the strength of the shooting pain. She willed herself not to cry, but big, fat silver tears slid down her cheeks all the same. She didn’t want to show weakness, especially around Hex, yet nothing could beat her grand exit and bumpy landing just seconds ago.
“Hold on to me, princess.” He stood effortlessly with her cradled in his arms, happy her stubbornness subsided enough for her to slip her arms around his neck.
Angelo, Xavier, Pete and lapdog Tony appeared with worry etched in their faces.
“What happened?” Angelo asked.
“She slipped on some plastic. I’m taking her to the hospital to get it checked out,” Hex said, passing them with firm intent, his insides flaming angry. Part of him blamed himself, but part of him wanted to shake her for running away from him and his mood was too raw for any more explanations to anyone.
A couple hours later, an x-ray and a cast, Savannah sat silently upon her hospital bed. Broken. Her ankle was broken…nice. She had only herself to thank or blame depending on the climate of her temper, yet she hadn’t decided which yet. Her eyes peered over to her makeshift savior standing at the window, his back to her. Hex hadn’t spoken a word to her since they arrived. Fine, whatever. Not that she had anything riveting to say anyway. But her sour thoughts vanished instantly as she watched him, taking a deep breath…partly from the pain of her ankle for the doctor had yet to give her anything stronger than Tylenol until her blood tests came back. The deep breath was for her heart, which was enticed towards the sensual man several feet away.
He came back…to her. Shouldn’t that mean something?
It did. It meant a lot, but they really didn’t know each other very well, but they could start, right? Maybe this was just the chance she needed all her life instead of being a loner relying on her self-reliance. Yet, her cynical mind was having a hard time believing in the whole fairytale thing. It wasn’t for her, but Hex dissolved the thought of forever which had been frozen solid within her soul. And not only were they fabulous together…sexually, but he made her laugh, feel safe and turn her inside out just by entering a room. Just looking at him made her eyes feel tortured with want. They needed to talk…really badly.
She was just about to call out to him when the door opened, her family and friends filed through with flowers, balloons and smiles. Despite the pain in her ankle and heart, Savannah smiled and her spirit lifted. “What's all this?”
“We heard you attempted to do a catwalk. It seems you need more practice.” Sean leaned down to kiss her forehead and he turned his attention to her cast. “Oh, nice…they didn’t have a designer cast available? I think Gucci makes one.” He winked.
She half laughed. “Zip it, Merrick.” Savannah blushed, cringing at Sean's ribbing with Hex nearby.
Laura leaned down with Devon in her arms, “Are you okay, sweetie?”
Savannah shifted in the bed, “Yeah, I’m great.” She caressed Devon’s face. “A pile of debris and stilettos don’t really help the uncoordinated. It’s not my finest moment for sure.”
“You’ll be even better if the doc gives you some good pain meds, huh SD?” Pete said with a grin.
“And do you have t-shirt for that too?” Savannah eyed his current t-shirt, 'You want me...you just don't know it yet' with a raised brow.
His grinned widened, “Of course. Just like holidays, I have one for every occasion. Some even sparkle.” His brows wagged with emphasis, referring to her ‘between the holidays’ Pickup line.
She held up a hand, “Stop right there, Pete. Not for younger viewers--me included,” she said, but her heart wasn’t really into banter, more interested in watching Hex brood across the room, though Sean stepped over to him and they were now speaking together.
At that moment, her doctor came in wearing scrubs and a long white medical coat with a nametag denoting Dr. Azad Jamali, M.D. with a stethoscope slung around his neck. He was tall to be sure with a Middle Eastern hint to his complexion; dark hair and dark brown eyes with an easy smile across his lips. "Ah, Ms. Deason, how are you feeling?” he asked with a slight accent, coming to her bedside.
She grimaced, “I hope that isn’t a trick question. I think I’d only be good with true or false at this point.”
Dr. Jamali chuckled, flipping open her chart and glancing back up, “Well, unfortunately you will have to wear your cast for the next six weeks and some physical therapy afterwards. But, on a positive note, you will get some required bed rest…patients usually like that.”
She saved herself from grunting in displeasure, “You don’t know me very well. Can’t I use a wheelchair? Crutches? A hover board? I’m really busy and—”
Sean walked back over with Hex close by, “Hey, I think we can hold the fort down,” he said dryly.
Savannah bit her tongue, but not for long. “I have deadlines. I have to finish up this project and the New York location is three weeks after that.”
Angelo stepped up to the end of her bed, “No problem, SD. I can cover for you and you know how T
ony loves to micro-manage all of us anyway. We’re good.”
Before she could retort to that lovely suggestion, the doctor spoke up again.
“Ms. Deason, after the cast comes off--be sure not to wear high heels for at least another six weeks after. I want to be sure to tell you now before you leave--some doctor’s neglect that piece of advice. It can be damaging.”
The fashionista in her smiled. “Thanks for blowing a hole in my spring wardrobe.” Her attempt at humor received a laugh or two from the crowd around her.
While the doctor smiled, his face changed a little and she noticed, “What is it? Is there more? You have that strange I-know-something-you-don’t kind of look in your eye.”
His dark eyes grew serious. “Perhaps you’d like everyone to step out of the room?”
She lifted a shoulder in an off-handed shrug, “No, not really--just tell me.” If bad news approached, might as well be with her closest and dearest...and Hex.
Dr. Jamali cleared his throat, “You’re pregnant, Ms. Deason.”
Was it a funnel that muffled his voice or the startled gasps around the room followed by a heavy silence the reason she didn’t hear his announcement?
The blood drained from her face and her mouth dropped open in utter surprise, “Come again?”
“You’re pregnant.” He confirmed.
No, she heard him right the first time…and she didn’t swallow the news down the second time very well either. She couldn’t move and stared at the doctor as if he grew three horns and a tail…shock took over and then some. No one spoke, though the ringing in her ears would have prevented her from hearing them. Yeah, she was having a whole out of body experience with her eyes wide open and it sucked.
Pregnant? Really?
Her dark eyes centered on Hex and his blue eyes grew cold, his expression remote. Great reaction from him—it nearly toppled hers. If their so-called relationship wasn’t a sinking ship before, well…it hit rock bottom and embedded into the earth to molten lava. She looked away from him and squeezed her eyes closed.
