Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (Eight Fun, Romantic Novels by Eight Bestselling Authors)
Page 69
Heâs on my side.
Hunter pushes me gently ahead of him into the bedroom. âCâmon, itâs like, 3:00 a.m. and I need my beauty sleep.â
I giggle. âDonât you mean, I do?â
âYou donât need anything,â he tells me, yawning. âExcept to keep your hands off my covers. Donât think I didnât notice you stole them all.â
âI was cold!â I protest, sliding in next to him. Hunter scoops me against his body, nestling me into the crook of his arm.
âBetter?â he whispers. I nod, snuggling into him. âGood,â he murmurs, sleepy. ââCause this time, Iâm not letting you go.â
HUNTER KEEPS HIS promise. He holds me all night, his body curled against mine, his arms encircling me in a tender, warm embrace.
I canât sleep; I just lie there, listening to the sound of his even breaths and marveling at the contentment cloaking my body in a bone-deep haze of peace.
Iâve never held a man like this; never stayed to see the sunrise filter softly through the drapes. Iâve never felt so close to anyone, so naked and exposed.
So loved.
I roll in his arms to face him, watching the peaceful expression on his face as he sleeps. Heâs a work of art, naked and glorious right in front of me, and I canât stop myself from reaching out and gently tracing the contours of his face with featherlight fingertips. The shock of hair flopping over his forehead; the light dusting of freckles across his nose. I trace his cheekbones, his jaw, his gorgeous full lips, memorizing every inch of skin. My heart beats faster, just to touch him like this; catch a glimpse of him so vulnerable and at peace.
Hunter lets out a sleepy yawn and shifts, flinging his arm out across the bed and snuggling deeper into the pillows.
I could get used to this.
The thought makes me catch my breath, my body tensing with the muscle memory of old betrayals, but I force myself to relax again, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Heâs not like the others.
Hunter is different, I know that now. For the first time, I can see the future beckoning me: a hazy golden promise of mornings waking just like this; long nights spent tangled up in his arms. Safe and loved, the way Iâve never even dared to dream.
The possibility shivers through me, so tempting, so real. I could be this happy tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that too. I could be his, always.
And he would be mine.
A fierce surge of possession swells in my chest, and now my fingertips are roving further across his body. I trace over the curve of his bicep, the muscled ridges of his stomach. Mine, I think, desire rising in me. All mine. I brush my fingertips lower still, delving under the covers. I find him hard and ready for me, rising to my touch. My breath catchesâ
âMorning.â Hunter rolls swiftly, suddenly trapping me beneath him against the sheets.
I flush, caught red-handed. âGood morning.â
âItâs sure shaping up to be.â Hunter gives me a lazy grin.
I glance away, selfconscious. For the first time, I remember what a sight I must make: tangled hair, smudged make-up. God knows what last night has done to me. I reach quickly to swipe under my eyes, but Hunter catches my hand.
âYouâre beautiful,â he breathes, gently smoothing hair back from my cheek. I roll my eyes, awkward, but he laughs. âYou are. Like this, just you.â
He leans down and kisses me slowly. I breathe it all in, reaching up around his neck to pull him closer. I feel him smile against my mouth. The kiss deepens, long and true, as he rolls me slowly across the bed. I savor it, every moment, such a simple thingâa kissâbut oh, how it makes my heart sing.
Hunter pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow and gently tracing a path across my naked shoulder. I gasp, shivering at his touch.
âMy turn,â he says with a wicked grin, swirling his fingertips over my sensitive skin.
âYou were awake?â I cry, flushing with embarrassment.
âBest damn dream of my life,â he lowers his mouth and kisses down the line of my back, slipping his hands around me to rove lightly across my breasts and stomach. I shudder, letting my head fall back, feeling the silver cobwebs dance across my skin where his fingertips have touched. Hunterâs breath comes heavier, hot against my neck, and I nudge back against him, finding him hot and hard against my ass.
Hunter groans. He turns me over, laying me out beneath him, and cradling my cheek in his hand. âI want to stay here forever,â he murmurs, dropping kisses along my neck, my chest, my lips. âJust you and me, itâs all I ever need.â
âI want it too,â I whisper, rising up to meet his kiss, claiming his mouth with my own. I lick into him, tasting and teasing, feeling the wave of desire rise in me all over again. This time Iâm not crying out with a desperate need, no, this is something different, a steady force curling low and deep inside of me, tripping out through my bloodstream in a sweet, gorgeous hum.
âMy Brit,â Hunter whispers my name, and I reach between us, opening my thighs, already so wet and ready for him. I gasp as he eases into me, his gorgeous thickness sinking deep inside, fitting me so perfectly itâs like he never left.
We stay there, perfectly still, not saying a word, but feeling every heartbeat and quick, shallow breath. I pull my head back to look in his eyes and find him gazing down at me, the same expression of tender reverence on his face that sings in every cell and atom of my being.
âI love you,â he whispers, moving gently inside me.
My heart stops. Itâs the first time heâs said those words. The first time Iâve ever heard them.
Pure joy sweeps through me, rising, circling with every slow thrust, until Iâm arching up against him, crying out at the orgasm that ripples through my body, sweet and pure like stardust. I feel Hunterâs body shudder into mine with his release, gasping my name over and over until the force leaves us both and we lie tangled and breathless in each otherâs arms.
âWow,â Hunter takes a ragged breath. âThat was⦠wow.â
I prop myself up above him, a giddy grin on my face. âYou mean, thatâs not what itâs usually like for you?â
He laughs. âWhat, are you crazy? Hell no.â
âHmmm,â I tease, âThatâs weird, because I alwaysââ Iâm cut off, shrieking as he grabs me and rolls, tickling mercilessly at my still too-sensitive skin. âHunter!â I yelp, shaking with laughter. âHunter, stop!â
âNot âtil you take that back!â
I struggle, playful, until the distant ring of his cellphone cuts through our laughter. He finally lets me go. âSaved by the bell,â he winks, scrambling to find his jeans where he left them on the floor. âBut Iâm so not done with you, darlinâ.â
âIâm counting on it.â I laugh, admiring the curve of his ass in the morning sunshine.
Hunter finally scoops his cellphone out of his jeans and answers. âWhatâs up?â he says, still grinning at me.
Thereâs a beat, and then all the laughter drains from his eyes.
âHunter?â I ask, already reaching for him, but he steps back, turning away.
âNo, of course.â He says into the phone. âIâll be right there. What hospital?â
Fear clutches at my heart.
I scramble out of bed and go to him, sliding my arms around his waist and holding him close as he listens to whoeverâs on the other end of the line.
âIâm on my way,â he tells them, then hangs up, clutching the dead phone against his chest.
Silence.
âHunter?â I ask cautiously. âHunter, talk to me.â I pull him around to face me, inhaling with a gasp when I see the terrible shock on his face.r />
âItâs my father,â he tells me, stumbling over his words. âHeâs had a heart attack. They think⦠they think he might not make it.â
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WE DRIVE STRAIGHT to the city, Hunterâs knuckles white with tension as he grips the steering wheel, his face set in a deathly blank stare.
âThey found him right away,â I tell him, desperately trying to break through the icy wall of fear thatâs slammed down around him. I reach over, covering one of his hands with mine. âHeâs getting the best doctors, everything will be OK.â
Hunter just nods, his jaw clenched. With every mile that passes, I can see the shadows of the past haunting, darker in his eyes. I canât imagine what this must be bringing back for him, everything he went through losing Jaceâ¦
âItâll be OK.â I say again in a small voice, praying with everything I have that itâs true. âIâm right here with you, everything will be alright.â
THE HOSPITAL STAFF direct us to a gleaming new private wing, Hunterâs footsteps echoing on the floors as we head down a labyrinth of hallways and wards. I watch his expression get fearful; every muscle in his body locked tight with tension as he breaks into a jog.
âRichard Covington?â he demands, as we reach the reception area.
The nurse on duty is juggling three charts and a phone trapped under her shoulder. âGive me a minute.â She waves us away, not looking up.
âWe just need his room number,â I plead, but she can only offer a sympathetic smile.
âTake a seat, Iâll be right with you.â
Hunter doesnât move, his body coiled with tension, so I gently tug him over to the seating area. âTheyâll get to us when they can,â I soothe him. âAnd your mom has your cell number. Sheâd call if anything changed.â
Hunter sits beside me, restlessly tapping his foot. I reach over and take his hand, uncurling his fist to drop a kiss on his palm. âHeâll be fine,â I reassure him again. I know I donât have any right to make these promises, but Iâd say anything to make him feel better right now; anything to take this terrible panic away. âHeâs never had problems like this before, right? Iâm sure heâs getting the best care.â
Hunter jerks up to his feet and starts pacing. âI hate these places,â he mutters, looking around. âIt just makes me remember, being stuck here, beforeâ¦â He trails off, and I can see it in his eyes that heâs reliving every awful second of what happened that dark winterâs night three years ago.
I try to think of something to say, but my mind is blank. âIâm sorry,â I whisper helplessly. My heart aches to watch him like this, so full of bleak memories. âI wish I could make it all go away.â
Hunter closes his eyes, like heâs trying to block out the world. I get up and slip my arms around him, pulling him to me in a hug. I stand there, holding him, trying to take this burden heâs carrying and bear some of the weight on me.
I canât believe how quickly everythingâs changed.
Just a couple of hours ago, we were snuggled safe in each otherâs arms, basking in the glorious afterglow of our night together. It was perfect, so peaceful and filled with joy, and nowâ¦
Now Hunterâs shoulderâs are hunched against my embrace, his body stiff and distant. I can tell, heâs a thousand miles away from me, like an invisible canyon has suddenly opened between us, pulling him into a private world of fear.
âHunter, thank God!â A voice cuts through the waiting room, and I turn to find his mother, Camille, heading towards us, trailed by a cluster of doctors. âWhat took you so long? Heâs been asking for you.â
âDadâs awake?â Hunter clutches my hand.
âHeâs recovering in his room.â Camille directs that last part at the staff. âIâve been telling them for hours, that shoebox is an insult. Youâd think that with all the money we raise for this hospitalââ
âIâm sure itâs the best theyâve got.â Hunter placates her. âThe room, mom. Where is he?â
She points down the hallway, and Hunter takes off without another word, leaving me standing here alone.
For the first time, Camille notices me.
âAnd you areâ¦?â She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Her expression is blank, despite the fact I spent half a dozen summers serving her sweet iced tea and plain grilled chicken sandwiches. But itâs been years now, and sheâs clearly got plenty on her mind.
âBrit. Hi.â I swallow. Despite the crisis, Camille is perfectly dressed in a navy pantsuit and gold jewelry. She must be in her late fifties by now, but thereâs not a line visible on her face, or a hint of grey in her sleek blonde bob. âIâm so sorry about your husband. Is there anything I can do to help?â
âThank you,â she answers with automatic politeness. âBut we have it under control.â She looks me up and down for a moment. âIâm sorry, who did you say you were again, a friend of Hunterâs?â
âI⦠Yes.â
I fold my arms over my chest selfconsciously. In the hurry to get dressed and on the road, I threw a shirt of Hunterâs over my tank-top and shorts; rolling up the sleeves and tying it around my waist. Now, it feels like a neon sign screaming, âI just screwed your son.â
âWell, thank you for⦠escorting Hunter here.â Camille gives a brisk nod, as if dismissing me. âYouâll understand, I have a lot to deal with right now. This room situation is impossible, and I need to talk to talk to someone about his medication.â
âOh, of course!â I exclaim. âIâm sorry, I⦠go ahead.â
âIt was nice to meet you.â Camilleâs smile is empty as she turns and sweeps away, leaving me in the hallway alone.
The nurse at the station gives me a sympathetic look. âRoom twenty-one.â She says. âJust that way.â
âThanks.â
I catch my breath, then carefully venture in the other direction, following the way I saw Hunter go until I reach the room. Iâm braced for the worstâintensive care wires and breathing tubesâbut when I nervously step into the room, I find his father sitting up in bed, laughing along with Hunter, looking the picture of health.
Relief crashes over me, followed swiftly by confusion. Richard looks like he just stepped off the golf course, not suffered a major heart attack.
âHey,â I knock awkwardly on the open door. Hunter turns.
âBrit!â He leaps up to greet me, smiling. âCome meet my dad. Dad, this is Brit. Brit, meet Richard.â
âCome on in,â Richard booms. Heâs wearing a plush navy dressing gown over striped pajamas, a spread of empty deli wrappers on the bedside table. âSorry thereâs not much space, but my wifeâs seeing to that. Sheâs on the warpath,â he adds conspiratorially. âI wouldnât be surprised if they kick out half the ward to make more room.â
âUmm, hi.â I edge forwards and take the hand he offers. His handshake is firm and vigorous. âIâm glad youâre OK. When he got the call, we thoughtâ¦â
âThat I was banging at deathâs door?â Richard finishes cheerfully. âFalse alarm, just a touch of angina. But you know your mother,â he adds in Hunterâs direction.
âEverythingâs OK,â Hunter tells me, gripping my shoulder. I can feel the relief pouring off him in waves, the way his heart is racing with gratefulness. âHeâll be fine.â He exhales. âHe just needs to watch his diet, and get more exerciseââ
âLord, not you too!â Richard protests. âIâve already had an earful from the doctors. Tell me, if a grown man canât enjoy a good steak from time to time, whatâs the
point of living at all?â
âIâll certainly bear that in mind when Iâm planning your funeral,â Camilleâs voice comes, icy from the door. She walks past me to the bed, swiftly snatching a glass from his hand. âTell me you didnât drink this. Richard! You know these places are a breeding ground for infections.â
âItâs alright, dear. Youâre not getting rid of me just yet.â Richard pats her hand, and Camille clutches it tightly, a look of deep affection passing between them.
Hunterâs arm slides around my waist, pulling me close. âIt was nothing,â he murmurs to me, as if reassuring himself. âWe shouldnât have worried.â
His mother looks up sharply. âAngina is not nothing. The doctors said itâs a warning sign. And is it any wonder? Your father has been working himself to death, all alone at that company.â
âI have employeesââ Richard tries to interrupt, but Camille wonât be stopped.
âAnd you, all the way off in the middle of nowhere,â she accuses Hunter. âWhat would have happened if it had been a real heart attack? By the time you got here, it would have been too late! Itâs not right, all this stress youâve left him with.â She plumps up the pillows with sharp motions, barely controlled. âHe was never meant to run that place alone, it was supposed to be for you boys. Well, I hope youâre happy now.â
I feel Hunterâs sharp intake of breath beside me. I turn, waiting for him to defend himself against her crazy accusations, but he doesnât say a word, just drops his head, staring at the floor.
âThatâs enough,â Hunterâs father says, his voice quiet but firm. âWe can talk about all of this later. Did you find someone to help you with the new room assignment?â
Camille collects herself. âIt wonât be necessary, theyâre releasing you. Youâll be home for dinner tonight.â She forces a smile. âIâve already called ahead and told Marta to throw out all the butter. Itâll be steamed fish and vegetables from here on out.â