by R. C. Martin
Hugging an arm around my middle, I convince myself that I’m not going to cry. Not again. He’s okay. He’s asleep in the bed we share. Nothing bad is going to happen to him. He’s sure of it, so I should be sure of it, too. Once I’m certain that I’m in control of my emotions, I tuck my feet into my slippers and quietly make my way out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. I’m not sure of the last time Dane had anything to eat, and I want to make sure he wakes up to an amazing breakfast.
After I start a pot of coffee, I grab my phone and send a text to Ava. It’s a few minutes before seven, but I’m sure she’s awake and getting ready for the day. In any case, she’s not the only person I need to reach out to this morning, and I want to make my phone calls before Dane is up. While I exchange a couple of messages with Ava, I send Ellery a message, too. I hate that I have to tell her I no longer plan on coming home for Christmas, but it’s now my reality. Given everything that’s going on in both of our lives right now, I know I owe her more than a text, but there’s no way I can handle a conversation with her and my parents today. I inform her that I’ll fill her in on the details of what happened the next time she has a minute to chat, adding that I look forward to an update from her as well.
Certain the call I make next will be the hardest, I pour myself a cup of coffee and doctor it the way I like before walking over to the little breakfast nook beside the window. I curl up on the corner of the cushioned bench and take a sip of the steaming hot brew before pushing a call through to my parents.
“Sally?” my dad grumbles instead of hello. “That you? You okay?”
“Yeah, dad. It’s me.”
“It’s awfully early to be calling the house. Is something the matter?”
“Dane—Dane was mugged last night.” I pause, my breath getting caught in my throat merely saying it out loud. “He was beat up pretty badly. He’s okay. Mostly bumps and bruises, though they did break his nose. Anyway, I just don’t think now’s a good time for a visit. And—I’m sorry, dad, I don’t want to leave him here alone,” I ramble before taking a breath.
“Oh, wow. Mugged? Were you there? Were you hurt?”
“No,” I’m quick to assure him. “No, I wasn’t with him. I got the call when he was being taken to the hospital.”
His voice becomes muffled. When I hear mom’s, I know he’s told her the news.
“Sally? My god, is he all right?” she gasps into the phone.
“He will be. I feel so badly about canceling next week, but—”
“I know. I’m so disappointed. I was really looking forward to meeting him. But such things are out of our control. I understand if you feel you’re where you’re supposed to be right now.”
“I am, mom,” I whisper. My heart swells as the meaning behind her words really settles in my mind. She’s right in ways she doesn’t even realize. “I’ll call you guys a little later. I should be getting back to him.”
“Okay, dear. Keep us updated, please. Send him our regards.”
“I will. Love you.”
After we exchange goodbyes, I finish my coffee while I clean up the mess I left out last night. Once evidence of our spoiled dinner is gone, I go about whipping something together for Dane’s breakfast. I manage to find enough ingredients to make him a loaded omelet, and I toss a couple pieces of bread in the toaster to go with it while I prepare his coffee. With his plate of food in one hand and his coffee in the other, I return to the bedroom. When I find the bed empty, I halt in the doorway.
“Dane?”
“Thank fuck. I’m in here, babe. Could use a little help.”
I hurry across the room, setting his breakfast on the nightstand before I follow the sound of his voice. I find him in the closet. He’s leaning against his elbow, propped on a shelf, a pair of boxer briefs dangling from his hand hang at his side.
“It hurts to breathe. I’m sure you can imagine what that means when I try bending over.”
“Baby, why didn’t you call me?”
I don’t hesitate to close the distance between us, and I grab his underwear before sinking down in front of him. Slowly, he guides one foot, then the other into his garment, and I pull it up his legs and around his hips. He motions to the pair of sweatpants draped over the oblong ottoman in the middle of the closet, and I look back at him with wide eyes.
“You own a pair of sweatpants?”
“Shit. Don’t make me laugh,” he coughs out, a pathetic smile curling his lips as he hugs his arm across his belly.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“I own two, smartass,” he teases with a wink. “Just help me into them. I need to get some work done.”
I hug the sweats to my chest, taking a step away from him as a quirk an eyebrow. “Work? You just told me it was hard for you to breathe. I don’t think work is such a good idea.”
“Relax. I was planning on being in the office for another three days this week. I’m obviously unprepared to be at home, and there’s not a whole lot I can do. However, I can and will check in via email and make a few phone calls.”
“Emails, no phone calls,” I demand, still holding his pants hostage.
Narrowing his eyes at me, he mutters, “Who’s the boss here?”
Trying my best to fight a grin and hold my ground, I’m quick to reply, “The one wearing pants. Emails, Dane—no phone calls. Agreed?”
“Fine. We’re agreed. Pants?”
Satisfied with his surrender, I help him into his sweats. When I step away from him, watching as he ties the drawstring, I drink him in from head to toe. Even though he’s covered in bruises, some that seem downright scary, he still manages to look sexy as hell with his pants hanging off his hips like that.
“I could really go for a pain killer and some coffee right now.”
“Oh,” I murmur, snapping myself out of my thoughts. “I made you breakfast. Your pills are still in my purse. I’ll grab them and get you some water. Do you need anything else while I’m downstairs?”
“My phone?”
“Also in my purse. I’ll be right back.” I take two steps toward the closet’s exit and then turn around abruptly before I ask, “Do you need any help getting back to bed?”
“I’m all right. Thank you.”
“’Kay.”
I walk quickly from the room, racing down to the foot of the stairs, where I dropped my purse last night. I dig through it for his prescription and his phone, and then I return to the kitchen. I fill up a glass of water for him, grabbing my abandoned phone as well. It isn’t until I glance at the screen to see if I have any missed notifications that I realize I’ve forgotten to make a call—a rather important one.
Emptying my hands, I unlock my screen and search for Heather’s contact information. She insisted we exchange numbers before I left on Thanksgiving. I haven’t had a need to call her yet, and I regret the reason behind this call, but I know it’s not only necessary, it’s late. When it rings through to her voicemail, I realize it might be entirely too early for her to be awake. I’ve been living with Dane for so long, I forget some people’s mornings don’t start until after the sunrise.
Not wishing to alarm her in my message, I simply express that Dane had an incident and sustained some injuries. I assure her that I’m with him, and I don’t plan on leaving his side. I also suggest, if she has a few minutes this afternoon, she might want to pay him a visit. Then, with that taken care of, I gather all Dane asked for and race up the stairs.
This time, when I enter the room, I find him propped up against the side of the bed, his plate in his hand, and his omelet half gone. I toss both of our phones onto the mattress and then go to stand in front of him. I set the glass of water beside his coffee and open up the bottle of pills. He holds out his hand without a word, and I shake the appropriate dosage into his palm. He swallows it down with the water and then returns to his meal.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
He shakes his head slightly as he chews, his eyes studying me befo
re he asks, “Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry,” I shrug.
“Sigourney.”
“I’m fine, Dane.”
Holding out a piece of his toast, I read his silent demand loud and clear in his intent, blue stare. I blow out a sigh, irritated that he won’t just let me take care of him, and he raises his brow at me impatiently. Giving in, I lean forward and take a bite of his toast. Satisfied with my obedience, he then takes a bite himself before feeding me a forkful of his omelet—and this is how we finish eating his breakfast.
He sets aside the empty plate, and as I go to reach for it, he intercepts me. Taking hold of my waist, he gently tugs me into the space between his legs. I don’t resist him, wishing so much that I could wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. It makes me physically ache to know that I can’t. The reason behind why only makes me feel worse.
Slipping his hand underneath both his sweater and my t-shirt, he traces the tips of his fingers across the small of my back. Just that one simple touch makes my belly flutter, and I’m reminded that the man in front of me doesn’t blame me for what happened to him, and he’s forgiven me for keeping the truth about my last threatening letter from him. I’m reminded that he’s not afraid. He’s strong. He’s resilient. And he’s mine.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?”
I don’t speak my reply, the tone in his voice implying the question was a rhetorical one.
“We’re going to get in this bed, I’m going to check my emails, and you’re going to get some sleep.”
“Dane, I’m okay. I can—”
“I wasn’t asking, babe. I’m wearing the pants. These?” He pauses, smacking a hand against my ass before he goes on to say, “These aren’t pants. Now get your ass in this bed.”
Unable to resist, I lean toward him and press the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. My lips still grazing his skin, I whisper, “So bossy.”
He grunts, but doesn’t offer up any dispute, making me laugh. We then both settle ourselves in bed—him propped up against a couple of pillows, me laying down with my head resting on his thigh. While he works, he toys with the hairs at the nape of my neck, and his sweet affection chases away my worry long enough for me to fall into a deep sleep.
I WAKE WITH a start, a dull pain throbbing at my side. When I open my eyes and look down, I exhale slowly and concentrate on the warm, naked body pressed against mine. She must have shifted in her sleep, knocking her fist against one of my still tender spots, but I dare not move her. Last night was the first night since my attack that she didn’t handle me with kid gloves. No way in hell am I pushing her away from me now.
After a week, my bruises are starting to fade and my body isn’t nearly as sore as it was those first couple of days. Even still, when it came to sex, she wouldn’t give me her all. At first, she denied me her pussy. Of course, I wasn’t going to say no to her mouth—but I missed her body. Yesterday, I convinced her I was well enough for more, and she agreed to ride me. I feel my smirk tugging at the side of my mouth now, remembering how wild she got.
Fuck, she missed me as much as I missed her, and it was sexy as hell.
She’s been doting on me a great deal. Too much—but she gets snippy when I don’t let her, so I’m giving her the space to take care of me. I haven’t been back to the office since the attack, in part because I wanted to give Sigourney a short reprieve from the place. It’s been agreed upon that neither of us will go there alone, so long as the Bridgewater case is open. While that’s more for her safety than mine, I’m well aware of her over-protective state at the moment. I know she’d never let me live it down if I went alone, so I’ve made do. I’ve been able to accomplish a bit of work from my phone and my home office, though I’ve not been pushing it. I’m not too proud to admit I needed a few days away, myself. I took one hell of a beating from those bastards.
In spite of the fact that our trip to California was canceled, I’ve kept my promise to Sigourney. Since Saturday, I’ve unplugged a bit. In fact, I’ve unplugged more than I originally intended. Her choice to spend Christmas with me was a sacrifice. When she told me she had informed her parents we wouldn’t be coming for the holiday, I argued that while I might not be fit to travel, she was perfectly fine. I know how much she was looking forward to seeing her family. Even still, she was adamant in her refusal, even to the point of tears, and I let it go.
For the first time in my life, I understand what it’s like to be needed by someone. Not for what I can give her materially or even physically, but emotionally and mentally. She’s mine in every way, and this past week has shown me how important my well being is to her—and hers to me. She’s everything. She’s always, and I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love her.
I stifle a groan and chuckle when she presses into my tender side again. This time, I do push her away from me, but I go with her. Fitting my hips between her legs, my dick starts to stiffen at the feel of her warmth. I know, before I press a soft kiss to her lips, that I’ll be fucking her later. I’m sure she’ll try to resist, but it’s Christmas—she can’t deny her man on Christmas. Besides, I know she wants it. I know she craves it as much as I do.
I keep my eyes open as I tease her lips apart with my tongue. She sighs, reaching up to gently hold the sides of my face. I kiss her slowly, and she doesn’t resist. Instead, she hitches her legs up and hooks her ankles together over my ass as she twists her tongue with mine. We stay like this for a while, each of us enjoying it for what it is, a lazy kiss good morning—another thing she hasn’t allowed until now, too worried about hurting my nose.
When I finally pull away from her, she opens her eyes slowly, and the sight of those fucking green irises makes my chest tighten. I don’t think, my body acting of its own accord, taking orders from my heart. I lift my hips, and my dick finds its way inside of my woman—my gorgeous woman. Her lips part in an O as I bury myself to the hilt, her wet pussy accepting all of me.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “I love you.”
She gasps, her legs tightening around me as she stares into my fucking soul. I roll my hips and she moans, her eyes growing glassy as she begins to pant.
“Dane,” she whispers, a slight tremble in her voice. “I love you, too.” I ease my cock from her warmth, touching my lips to hers as I glide back in, and she buries her fingers in my hair. “I love you so much,” she whimpers, keeping me close.
Neither of us says anything else as I make slow, sweet love to her. What we’re doing, we’ve never done before, but it feels so goddamn right. We take our time, savoring every touch and each kiss. I can’t remember ever wanting to go this slow with anyone, and I can sense she wants it to last as long as I do. I have every intention of taking her hard and fast later, but right now, this is all I want. Her soft body beneath mine; her tight, wet pussy, warm and inviting, wrapped around my dick; her fingers running through my hair and massaging the back of my neck; her sensual, languorous kisses—and her eyes, her fucking perfect eyes staring into the depths of my very being.
Right now, I want her to feel all of me—every goddamn piece.
“Oh, god, Dane,” she moans, sliding her hands down my chest and around my sides. She presses her fingertips just above my ass, silently asking for more, and I know she’s close. Keeping the same pace, I thrust inside of her harder, and she curls into me with a gasp, tucking her face in my neck. “Baby!”
Her excitement spurs me on, and I have to fight to stay in control. I pull out little by little, and then drive into her as deep as I can go, eliciting another gasp as she hooks her arms underneath mine, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“Sigourney,” I groan, repeating the act.
She mewls, and I feel my restraint slipping out of my grasp.
When I ram into her a third time, her limbs all tighten around me, her orgasm coursing through her whole body. Her pussy clamps down on my dick, trying to keep me captive, and I’m no match against it. She feels too good, and I lose control.
With a grunt, I drive into her, desperate to penetrate the deepest part of her the way she has penetrated me. I come while her core still flutters around me, milking me dry.
I feel my pleasure from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. As it starts to dissipate, my muscles give out, and I collapse on top of Sigourney. Each of us short of breath, I make a move to allow her the full capacity of her lungs, but she clings to me, silently protesting my departure.
“I’m not ready,” she whispers. “God, I’ve missed the weight of you.”
I press a wet kiss against her shoulder and then prop myself up on my elbows, giving her a little room to breathe. Staring up at me, she takes my face in her hands, gently tracing her thumbs under the bruises of my black eyes.
“That was…” She shakes her head at me, a beautiful smile spreading across her face as she tries to find her words. “I love you.”
“I love you, babe.”
Lifting her head to press a kiss against my lips, she whispers, “You’re making it incredibly difficult for me to find the desire to get out of bed, Dane. I hope you know that.”
“So don’t get up.”
Pulling away from me slightly, my face still in her hands, she reminds me, “We told Hale and Maya we’d drop by his parents’ place this afternoon.”
“Fuck it, let’s stay home.”
“Baby!” she giggles.
“We weren’t supposed to be here, anyway. I know you’re disappointed about that. If you want to stay in bed all day, then we’ll fucking stay naked all day. My mother is in the south of France, we’ll see Hale New Year’s Eve, nothing’s stopping us.”
Her smile alight in her eyes, she studies me for a moment, as if she’s contemplating what I’ve said. “I’m disappointed I’m missing Christmas with my parents for the first time in all my life,” she begins on a whisper. “But I’m not disappointed I’m here with you, instead.”
