by Lynda Aicher
His head sagged against hers. Their chests moved in sync with deep pants, and the world slowly came back into focus one sense at a time.
Her sexy whimpers reached him first, followed by the heavy scent of sex and sweat that overpowered the fruity fragrance of her shampoo. Next was the sticky slickness of her bottom cradled beneath his pelvis, which led to the warmth that still engulfed his softening dick.
Shit. He had to move.
It was the very last thing he wanted to do. Any distance from her was unwanted, but it couldn’t be avoided. He eased out then rolled to the side to swipe a tissue from the box on the nightstand. He took care of the condom, only to stall on where to put it. The trash was in the bathroom, and getting up would take more energy than he had.
“Just drop it on the floor,” Liv mumbled. His head snapped around to find her watching him with the one eye not buried in the pillow. “Go on. Be daring.”
The sassy little minx. But she’d read him right. He opened his hand and let the wadded-up ball fall to the floor without a sound. He raised a brow at her, and her lips quirked with a barely contained smirk.
“Was that so hard?”
“More than you think,” he answered honestly. Just like the piles of clothing that lay thrown across the floor. The disorder burrowed into the back of his mind to pick at the quietness he’d finally found.
“Hmm.” Her eye drifted closed again, and he studied the contented softness of her features. “I don’t think I can move.”
A sense of fulfillment expanded in his chest. He’d given that to her. It’d been so long since he’d cared this much. He rolled to his side and pressed his lips to the damp baby curls on her temple. Her skin was slick beneath his palm as he trailed a hand down her back to the two dimples that had somehow become his.
“Did I hurt you?” He had to ask. Now that the lust had faded, he had to acknowledge how roughly he’d treated her. He’d been almost crazed, and it shamed him to think he’d given her pain when she hadn’t wanted it.
Her eyes flew open and she popped her head up to shoot him an are you stupid? look. “Seriously? Do I look like I’m hurt?”
He chuckled. “No. But there might be bruises on your hips in the morning.”
“Really?” She whipped around to try and peer at her hips then blessed him with a stunning, full-watt smile. “Cool.”
His laughter shot from his chest to startle them both. He didn’t care though. It felt too good, like the sex they’d just had. He simply couldn’t dismiss the bit of joy after the shit-filled day they’d endured and the one that was waiting for them tomorrow.
She shoved him in the chest then flopped back down. “Jerk,” she said, her tone light. The disgruntled look she tried to keep lasted less than a second before her own laughter mingled with his.
“Only for you,” he chided right back.
She quieted, her face going serious as she reached out to stroke his jaw. His breath hitched at the tenderness. “Wrong. Defensive sometimes. Quiet. Reserved. But never a jerk. I doubt if you even know how to be.”
And what did he do with that? Panic flamed to life with a quick kick to his chest and churn of his stomach. He smacked her ass and rolled away. “Just give me time.”
She didn’t respond as he flicked off the light then tugged the covers down so they could crawl under them. When she curled in to snuggle beneath the crook of his arm, her hair freed from the band and flowing over his chest, he swallowed back the contented sigh that rode in his throat.
“I’m not leaving,” she said then threaded her leg between his.
He kept his groan silent by burying his face in her hair and hugging her tightly. There was a roughness to his voice when he answered. “I don’t want you to.”
That was the problem. Now that she was here, he didn’t know if he could let her go. It was wrong, right and something in between that he was too exhausted to analyze.
Body sated, mind tapped out, he let his worries go. Tomorrow would be filled with more questions, doubts, stress and—God forbid—grief. He’d soak up Liv for a few more hours then let her go in the morning, too.
Chapter Eleven
Liv woke to soft snores and Noah’s arm wrapped around her. The steady beat of his heart thumped beneath her ear in a reassuring rhythm of life. One big inhale filled her with the lingering scent of the wild sex they’d had last night. A lazy smile curled over her lips and she snuggled in closer to his heat while he still slumbered. The chances of this being a repeat event were slim, but it didn’t stop her from savoring the last of it.
What happened last night was a result of circumstances.
Her thoughts traveled over the last forty-eight hours, and the sense of peace slowly slipped away. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and took in the pattering taps of rain hitting the roof, a resigned sigh slipping out before she shifted up to study Noah.
His lips were parted in a way that invited her to kiss them. She didn’t though, afraid she’d wake him. His beard stubble darkened his cheeks, giving him a roughish air that matched his messed hair with a lone curl that insisted on dropping down to rest on his forehead. She had to fist her hand to keep from brushing it back.
Her one regret about last night was that she didn’t get to explore him the way she would’ve liked. His toned body had fit with hers almost perfectly, yet she’d missed her chance to touch him, taste him and return the worship like he’d done with her.
Wide awake despite the short night and leaden weight that seemed to hold her limbs down, she forced herself to ease away from his comforting warmth. She snatched his sweater off the floor and tiptoed into the hall to grab her bag from the other room and use the guest bathroom. She kept her shower short, but she couldn’t resist twisting around before the mirror to see if there really were bruises on her hips.
She sucked in a breath, a tightness clenching her chest and core when she found the purplish outline of his fingers pressed into her pale skin. Images of the night before scrolled through her mind in flashes of passion and reckless abandon. Sex had never been like that. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, but Noah was…exactly like she’d imagined he’d be if he let go.
Wild, hard, dominant and passionate beyond control.
She held a certain amount of pride that she’d evoked that in him. That she’d gotten past his reserve and helped him find a release.
She snickered at her pun. That was all it was, really. A release of stress and tension from the day. A confirmation of life when they’d both needed it.
So why was she pulling his sweater on and burying her nose in the neck to inhale his scent? She rolled up the sleeves, brushed her hair into the easy ponytail and flicked on a quick brush of mascara, but it was the comfort of having him wrapped around her that gave her the strength to head downstairs and meet the day.
Coffee was brewing, eggs were mixed and the bread was waiting to be toasted before she turned on the flat-screen TV that dropped down from under the cabinets. It might’ve been 5:00 a.m., but there were a dozen texts and even more emails waiting for her on her phone. She scanned them all to ensure there was nothing urgent, filled a mug of coffee, stirred in some creamer then grabbed a pad of paper and a pen.
The local morning news anchors droned on in the background, and her To Do list was fifteen items deep before she slowed. She sipped her coffee and mapped out how to get them all done.
She was deep in analysis of the public transit system around the cracks in her phone screen when the hairs on the back of her neck began to dance in awareness. “Morning, Noah,” she said without turning around. Would he say anything about last night? Should she?
“Morning, Liv.” The floor creaked beneath his feet, and she tracked his movement via sound to the coffeepot, then the clink of the mug and splash of liquid as he poured a cup. “Any reports on the accident?”
“No. Nothing, yet.” A small miracle. Her focus was on her phone, but her attention was completely on him.
“What are you stu
dying?”
“Bus schedules.” It totally sucked that her car had died, but she wouldn’t admit that to V or Holden.
“Why?”
She finally glanced up and had to bite her lip to keep from sighing. The man was rumpled and possibly even more gorgeous, despite his frown. His hair had the finger-combed look and his shorts and T-shirt showed off all that skin and muscle she’d failed to admire last night.
She swallowed. “Working out?”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“So are you.” His scowl had her hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.
She glanced at the clock. She had to be at the bus stop down the street in thirty minutes to catch the connection across town for some clean clothes, then get over to the center for the end of the morning cycle before the kids left for school.
“I have scrambled eggs ready to go.” She nodded at the bowl of beaten eggs on the counter. “I can make them now, or you can fix them when you get done with your workout.”
He leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee until she wanted to squirm.
“What?” she finally asked, tapping the end of the pen on the counter. “You don’t like eggs? You didn’t have much else.”
“Why are you making me breakfast?”
“You act like no one’s ever done something nice for you.” When he didn’t say anything, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was up and thought you’d be hungry. I’m not trying to move in or anything.”
She met his stare and dared him to deny her assumption. His preference for solitude and order was clearly established, but there was no need for him to be defensive.
He set his mug down and moved to her side. She scowled, not understanding his intent, when he clasped her chin and leaned down to kiss her. Oh. She couldn’t stop her smile as he pulled back, his thumb caressing her bottom lip. “What was that for?”
“Morning, Liv,” he said, a smoldering heat darkening his eyes.
She swallowed. “Morning, Noah.”
He cocked a half smile. “Better.”
She gave a hesitant nod. “Okay…”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes.” Better than expected, that was for sure.
“You sore this morning?” His eyes flicked down to scan her neck, a remembered tingle springing to life where he’d bitten her.
“No.” Well, not in a bad way. She didn’t expand on that though.
“I like your outfit.”
She looked down and tugged at the hem of his sweater. It hit her midthigh and was perfectly decent, yet she felt exposed now that he’d said something. “It was easy to grab when I got up. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He swiveled the stool around and urged her legs apart until he stood between them. “You should keep it. It looks better on you.”
She laughed. “Right.” As much as she’d like to, there was no way she would take the expensive sweater.
“The bus schedule?”
She scrambled to follow the jump in the conversation. It was so tempting to lean forward the few inches that separated them and fall into him. As it was, her thighs burned where they touched his.
“Figuring out my route for the day,” she finally answered, then glanced at the clock. Dang, she had to hurry now if she was going to make the bus. She nudged him out of the way. “You’ll have to make your own eggs now,” she said before choking down the last of her cold coffee. “The bus will be here in twenty minutes, and I need to get dressed.”
She was halfway down the hall when he called out. “Liv.”
“What?” She paused with one foot on the stairs. “Oh. I checked all the emails and texts. No change on Kendra and Tyler, but Jake woke up and should be downgraded to acute care this morning. I’m going to swing by the hospital after I get the kids at the center off to school.”
She started up the stairs before he grabbed her wrist. She spun around. “What now?”
“Do you ever slow down?” His brows were furrowed in thought or maybe annoyance, which was fine, since it matched hers. “Here.” He held out a set of keys. “You can use my car.”
“No.” She shoved the keys back. “You need it.”
“It’s my other car.” He trapped the keys against her palm. “I don’t need it. It’ll be easier than taking the bus for a while.”
Dang it. She wanted to be stubborn and refuse, but her pride wouldn’t help anyone. Her shoulders slumped as she took a step back down so she was eye level with him. “Are you sure?”
His blue eyes captivated her, so intent and sure of himself. “I insist.”
He insists. She had to smile at that. Of course he did. “Then I insist on making you eggs for breakfast.” He wasn’t the only one who could dole out demands. “Oh.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s Thursday, right?” The days had blended together.
“Yes.”
Nothing more. It was good to see that last night hadn’t changed him. Well, except for the way his thumb was caressing the inside of her wrist. That was new and nice. Her pulse fluttered, and his lips were soft and warm when she pressed an impulsive kiss to them.
“With everything that’s going on, I’m assuming you’re skipping the center today,” she said as she licked her lips to get another taste of him.
He released his hold on her wrists to plow the hand through his hair. “No. I’ll be there.”
“Why?” She followed him back to the kitchen. “I’ll explain it to them. The kids will understand.”
He topped off his coffee. “No. They’re the ones who shouldn’t have to understand. I won’t skip out on them.”
She leaned on the counter and held out her empty mug. If he expected a rebuttal, he wasn’t getting one. His commitment to the kids she loved was one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. She took her filled mug back and cradled the warmth in her hands.
“What’s your schedule for the day?” she asked. “Do you need help at the club tonight?”
He snatched up the TV remote and punched the volume higher. A red “Breaking News” banner flashed across the bottom of the screen, and Liv’s stomach curled around the coffee she’d just consumed.
“Reporting live from the Hennepin County Medical Center, I’m Deborah Coats with an update on Tuesday night’s fatal two-vehicle accident. We’ve just learned that the crash was intentional,” the blonde news reporter said. The screen flashed to clips of the accident, which brought back instant memories of the blood and chaos and sickened Liv further. “Details are still coming out, but the name of the deceased victim has been released. The man pronounced dead at the scene is the former city council member from Ward One, Remington Harcourt.” A picture of the councilman appeared. “You might remember his name from the scandal that broke last fall during his run for re-election when he was exposed for being a member of the local sex clubs his campaign was protesting. According to a source at the police station, Mr. Harcourt left an apparent suicide note in his truck, vilifying the owners of the club that had been the focal point of his antifamily crusade.”
The screen changed to a picture of The Den, and Liv groaned. Her mug clicked against the counter when she sunk onto the stool, legs weak. This was exactly what Noah had predicted.
“Now the story doesn’t end there,” the reporter continued, the foreshadowing enough to have Noah cursing. “It turns out the SUV Mr. Harcourt hit is registered to The Den. Three occupants of that car remain in intensive care and four were admitted and released with non-life threatening injuries. We’ve been unable to confirm this information, but one source says the SUV was carrying seven people associated with The Den, allegedly three of the owners.”
The reporter went on to fill in theories and presumptions about Harcourt’s motives, but Liv tuned it out. She already knew why he’d done it. Revenge.
Her phone pinged almost in unison with Noah’s, her screen showing a text from Vanessa, which was quickly followed by ones from Rock, Seth and Ma
rcus. The text group she’d set up yesterday showed they weren’t the only ones watching the news.
Noah flicked the channel to another station as soon as the reporter ended her segment. Sure enough, there was another breaking news banner with a different reporter putting his own spin on the Remington Harcourt story. Noah cursed again and wiped a hand over his mouth.
“Now what?” she asked, not waiting for the second reporter to finish. The news was out, and any chance of hiding was gone. It was only a matter of time before more names were released. She didn’t doubt that.
Noah’s eyes were hard and flat when he looked up. “We already prepared,” he said, the cold rigidity of his voice chilling her with foreboding. “Now we defend.”
Chapter Twelve
Noah strode through the hospital entrance, brushed the raindrops off his suit and proceeded down the maze of hallways to the Intensive Care wing. The extra walk was worth evading the collection of news trucks and reporters who had gathered near the closer entrance.
He’d been moving nonstop since the story broke that morning, and the mess was only getting deeper. The elevator doors swished open on the ICU floor, the abnormal quiet broken by the click of computer keys and squeak of shoes on the polished tile. The rush and adrenaline of the media was starkly countered by the somber stillness of the waiting room.
Seth rose when Noah entered the room, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from commenting on the man’s appearance. Two days’ growth of beard couldn’t hide the dark circles or the haunted look in his eyes. Limp strands of hair hung around his face, having escaped the messy knot at his nape. The swelling had receded on his lips, but a purple bruise showed dark on his cheek. At least he’d managed to change his clothes, thanks to Liv and Carter.
Noah didn’t hesitate to pull Seth into a tight embrace. Hurt radiated from the man in almost visible waves that struck deeply within Noah. Seth clung to him for several long seconds before he stepped back to wipe the moisture from his cheeks. Noah kept a hand on his shoulder and gave the man a moment to collect himself.