by Mia Carson
The music played softly on the radio, and she hummed absently along with it. The light turned green, and she shifted, accelerating out into the intersection. She never saw the headlights. The sound of crunching metal filled her ears, and she screamed before she lost consciousness.
Chapter 8
He glared at the clock on the wall again as he paced, checking his cell for any messages, but there were none. Greyson shoved his cell in his back pocket and opened the front door to step out onto his porch in the evening air. A few minutes late he wouldn’t have questioned, but it was quarter to eight and Belle had sent no word at all about where she was.
She might’ve changed her mind and set him up. He grunted and paced on the porch. When tomorrow rolled around, he’d corner her in his office and make her talk to him. He was not letting this woman disappear from his life because she was too hung up on the bad that might happen.
As he leaned against the wooden post, watching the quiet road outside the gate to his house, he debated texting her and telling her he hoped she was ready for a long talk tomorrow. His cell rang and he picked it up, ready to ask her where the hell she was, but didn’t recognize the number. He almost didn’t answer it, but it could be something for work and he couldn’t ignore those calls.
“Hello?”
“Is this Greyson Taylor?” a man asked on the other end.
Someone yelled and there were voices… sirens. Greyson thought about Sally and gripped the phone harder. “Yes, what’s going on?”
“I’m a paramedic. We’re with your girlfriend, wanted to let you know where we are taking her.”
“Girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied slowly, his heart pounding in his chest.
“She kept muttering your name so you’re who we called. Do you know a Belle Hall?”
His heart plummeted to the ground. “Yes, I know her. What happened? Where is she?”
“We’re taking her to St. Joseph’s,” the paramedic said. “Should be there in ten.”
“What happened?” he asked again. “Is she alright?”
“She was in a car accident. The Mustang she was driving is totaled—”
“I don’t care about the fucking car! Is she alright or not?” he yelled, his vision blurring in his rage.
The paramedic sucked in a breath before responding. “She’s banged up pretty badly, but she’ll live. I suggest you meet us at the hospital and call her family.”
“She doesn’t have any family, just me,” he replied. “I’ll be there. Tell her I’m on my way.”
“She’s not conscious, but if she wakes up, we will,” the paramedic said and hung up.
For a horrible minute, Greyson stood frozen on his porch, his cell to his ear, trying to comprehend what happened. The Mustang was totaled. Belle had been in an accident. His Belle, his spitfire, drive-him-crazy Belle. He sprinted into the house, grabbed his keys and wallet, and ducked out the front door. He reached the hospital faster than he should’ve and barely threw the car into park before he ran into the ER and to the first nurse he found.
“Belle… Where is she?” he asked, the words fumbling from his mouth. “They said she would be here.”
“Sir, I need you to take a deep breath,” the nurse said and glanced over a chart in her hand. “Tell me her name. Was she brought here by ambulance?”
He nodded, tugging on his beard. “They called me, said they would be here. Belle Hall.”
The nurse glanced down her chart and frowned. “Not here yet. Are you sure they said this hospital?”
He flattened his palms on the desk, ready to lose it when the ER doors burst open and paramedics rushed a gurney inside. “Young woman… car accident… broken wrist and multiple cuts to her face. Bruising on her abdomen. Vitals look stable, but she’s not conscious.”
Greyson stepped closer as she passed and his chest tightened. “Belle? That’s my girlfriend! Where are you taking her?”
“Greyson?” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
The nurse rushed forward to calm him, trying to talk to him, but he didn’t hear her. The paramedics tried to talk to Belle again, but she wouldn’t wake up.
“Let’s move,” one said and pushed her away.
Greyson tried to follow, but two more nurses rushed over and stopped him. “No, I have to go with them! Where is she going?”
“Sir, I need you to sit down over there and wait,” the nurse from before told him sternly. “When they know something, they will tell you, but you can’t go with them. They’re going to fix her up, alright? Just sit down and take a deep breath.”
Greyson let them guide him to a chair, and he sank into it. After he promised he wouldn’t try to go after Belle again, they left him alone. He rested his arms on his knees, his head hanging, and stared in disbelief at the white linoleum tiles. This couldn’t be real. A nightmare, that’s all it was, a horrible nightmare, but he didn’t wake up. The Mustang was totaled. How badly was she hurt if the car was totaled?
He scrunched his eyes closed, pressing his thumbs against them, and waited. Worry ate at him. All the words he never said to her, admitting how entangled in her he really was, not caring that she was just as crazy stubborn as he was. Wanting her more than any other woman he ever met.
“Don’t you dare leave me,” he whispered to the empty air. “Don’t you dare.”
Life without Belle was not a life he wanted, not now when he had found the one woman who accepted him with his faults and flaws and somehow made him less of an ass. Made him care.
“Mr. Taylor?” a man in scrubs asked what felt like hours later.
He jumped to his feet. “That’s me. Is she alright?”
The man patted his shoulder and smiled. “She’s resting comfortably in a recovery room. Her right wrist is broken, she has some stitches on her shoulders from glass, her abdomen is bruised pretty badly, but all in all, she’s damn lucky,” the doctor told him. “Should be ready to leave in a few days.”
“Can I see her?”
“You told the paramedics she had no family?” He nodded. “And you’re her boyfriend?”
Greyson nodded again and smiled. “Yes, I am.”
“Then you can see her. I’ll show you to her room.”
He followed the doctor through the sterile halls, ignoring everyone else around him. All he wanted was to see Belle and know she was fine. They reached the door to a room, and the doctor waved him. “She might be groggy at first. Try not to let her talk too much.”
Numbly, he nodded and stepped into the room. Her face was bruised and scratched from the accident, and her right arm rested on a pillow on top of the covers. He cringed, knowing she had to be in pain, and crept slowly towards her bed, not wanting to wake her but needing to hear her voice. When he reached her bed, he reached out a hand for hers and held it gently.
“Belle,” he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Jesus, you look terrible.”
Her hand tightened subtly on his, and her eyes fluttered. “Thanks for pointing that out, jackass.”
He sighed in relief and hugged her until she winced and he let go, but she held onto his hand. “I’m sorry, how bad is it?”
She tried to sit up, her grimace of pain enough to tear at him. “Greyson,” she whispered, and her eyes opened all the way. The blue irises darkened and tears overflowed. “Your car… I’m so sorry, it’s totaled. I can’t pay you back for it. I don’t even remember what happened!”
“Belle, slow down,” he told her, but she shook her head until she cursed in pain.
“No, it’s my fault. I wrecked it, and I wrecked this, and I have no idea what we’re doing or what I’m doing.”
He pressed his fingers against her lips to make her stop. “The doctor said not to talk too much,” he stated sternly. “So stop, and don’t you dare blame yourself. It’s just a car. I don’t care about it, but I care a hell of a lot about you.”
His fingers fell away and she studied his face. “You do?”
/>
“Yeah, I do,” he said with a laugh. “And it’s my fault this happened, not yours. I shouldn’t have pushed, and you wouldn’t have run away, and there’d be no need for you to come to my place tonight so don’t you dare say anything about it being your fault.”
“But the car,” she whispered.
“It’s a car,” he told her again and brushed his lips gently against hers. She wrapped her left hand around his neck and pulled him closer, pressing their foreheads together. “God, I was so scared when they called me.”
“Why did they call you?” she asked, not letting him move.
His eyes met hers and he kissed her again. “You kept saying my name, and as of this moment, they think I’m your boyfriend.”
“Oh,” she said quietly and want sparked in her eyes. “You didn’t correct them?”
“Why would I? Tonight, I was going to convince you that I could be,” he said, and she laughed a moment before cringing and he sat back.
“No, don’t leave me,” she whispered and gripped his hand hard. Her eyes glazed over for a minute, and she stared past him. “All I hear is metal screaming and a horn blaring. I don’t… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He sat down beside her on the bed. “I won’t leave you, not while you’re here.”
She smiled and settled back against the pillows, her eyes closing. “Good, that’s good.”
“And when you do get out, you’re coming to stay with me so you can be taken care of for once,” he told her, and her eyes shot open again.
“No, I can’t do that to you,” she argued. “That’s too much, and I’ll be fine on my own, really. I’ll manage. You can’t miss work anyway.”
“I can work remotely,” he informed her shortly.
“What about Tim and the beta testing? You can’t do that from home.”
He grinned. “I don’t want to do Tim, and that’s what I have Tim for.”
She scowled. “That’s not what I meant.” She glanced shyly at the sheets. “You barely know me,” she added a little more quietly.
“I know you drive me crazy, and I know I don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you not taking care of yourself when you need to heal.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he leaned forward and stopped her with a gentle kiss. “No more arguing. You’re staying with me, and that’s final.”
“But what about—” she tried to say, but he kissed her again, deepening it as she melted against him with a sigh. He ran his fingers through her hair, wishing they were anywhere but a hospital so he could show her exactly what else she meant to him. He broke the kiss, and her eyes closed as exhaustion and the painkillers took hold. “Greyson?”
“Yeah?” he asked, smirking as she fought to keep her eyes open but giving up. “Just sleep, Belle, I’ll be right here.”
She nodded, and a few minutes later was sound asleep. Greyson held her hand through the night, not moving from her bedside once except to pull up a chair. He texted his mom and told her there was someone he’d really like her to meet, then leaned back in the chair and watched Belle’s chest rise and fall with her steady breathing.
He had no idea what would happen over the next few days, and he didn’t give a damn. He’d almost lost the woman who stole his heart so easily, and he was going to do everything he could to prove to her that he was the man she needed.
The only man she couldn’t live without.
THE PLAYBOY’S
VIRGIN #2
Chapter 1
Sitting rigid in the chair, Belle pushed her tongue against her cheek, glaring at her laptop. The bulkiness of the cast on her wrist made it nearly impossible to move the mouse, and when it slipped again, she smacked her left palm on the table.
“Damn it! How many more weeks do I have to wear this?” she grumbled and narrowed her gaze at the offending impediment.
Greyson laughed quietly behind her. “Doc said up to six weeks, but the break didn’t look too bad so there’s hope. Why don’t you let me help you? You can tell me what to do for a change,” he suggested.
She rubbed her forehead hard, but the headache didn’t abate. Greyson stalked to the table in the way that always caught her gaze. He set down a steaming cup of coffee for her before settling his large frame in the chair across the table, so far away from where she wanted him. Her fingers danced along the top of the ceramic mug, eyeing him as he sipped his coffee and held her gaze easily. The words were right on the tip of her tongue, ready to lash out at him, but she breathed in deeply through her nose and let it out, counting to ten in her mind.
Five days. That’s how long she’d spent in the hospital after the car wreck, and for those five days, she had contemplated what living with Greyson would be like. It excited her and caused her heart to pound in her chest. Though she had a broken wrist, stitches in her shoulder, and a severely bruised abdomen, her mind wandered through a world of fantasies of him carrying her to his bed, which she was delighted to know was a four-poster. There, he would make love to her in so many hot, sexy ways as she kissed him until they were both breathless. That was what her mind told her would happen.
She had no way of knowing the second she stepped over the threshold to his home, he would suddenly act as if they hadn’t shared more than a few heated kisses. As if he hadn’t driven her to ecstasy in the copy room that night.
All the missed chances of taking her hand or snuggling with her on his over-sized leather couch infuriated her to no end. Their bedrooms were right next to each other, but he made no attempt to finish what they’d started. Her eyes narrowed as she mirrored him, sipping her coffee before turning back to the work at hand.
“So is that a no on my offer to help?” he asked, his voice the deep growl she once loved but which now grated on her nerves.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled and squinted at the screen. Her hand hovered over the mouse. The cast drove her crazy, but yanking it off would be stupid. Her wrist needed to heal if she ever hoped to sketch again. She picked up the mouse with her left, moved the cord around her laptop, and let out a sharp laugh as she set it back down. “There, that’ll do it.”
“You’re not left-handed,” he pointed out, scratching his beard.
Belle’s eyes immediately darted to the movement, so close to those lips she desperately wanted against hers again. His tight black t-shirt hugging his body did not help calm her raging hormones either, and she crossed her legs under the table.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said and focused on her work. When he didn’t leave the table, her hand stilled and she glanced up at the worried frown on his face. “Don’t you have work to do? Unless you want me to do something for you.”
“I’ve got all my work under control,” he insisted and buried his face behind his mug.
Belle ground her teeth. Using her left hand, she painstakingly managed to get a few more details finished for her project, but it took too damn long. The date taunted her from the bottom of her monitor, and she huffed, leaning back in her chair and resting her head back so she stared at the ceiling.
“Give it time. You’ll have the cast off soon, everything else will be healed, and you’ll be off the pain meds. Then you can catch up,” he encouraged her, but she shook her head.
“No, actually I won’t. This project is due way too soon, but it’s fine. I’m almost finished,” she lied.
She was nowhere near finished, and all she saw in her mind was her failure. She had come so far, but now she would fail because of a damn car accident and an inability to finish her work. She contemplated having Greyson help her. He offered every day, but it wouldn’t be fair to the other students. He was a genius when it came to designs, and his arrogance at maintaining his reputation would get in the way. She didn’t want him changing anything on her project, and she sure as hell didn’t want to get in an argument with him over what worked and what didn’t.
“How about breakfast?” he asked and stood. He walked close enough to brush by her arm—but didn’t—and moved to the
fridge. “I have some bacon and eggs.”
“That’s fine,” she muttered with a heavy sigh.
The fridge closed, and she sensed his eyes watching her. “What’s going on with you? You seem depressed.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I can’t do anything,” she said and almost let slip that she had no idea what she was even doing in his house if she was nothing more than his roommate. “It’s just hard. I’ve never been handicapped like this.”
“You’ve never broken a bone? Ever?”
She turned in her chair and shook her head. “Have you?”
He cringed and his hand went to his right hand, holding his ribs. “Three of these, my nose, and four fingers. And my leg, but that happened when I was a kid.”
“And the others all happened at once?” she asked surprised. Sheepishly, he nodded. “What did you do?”
He leaned on the counter, his arms folded, and with a grim twist to his lips, said, “You aren’t the only one with a temper around here, remember?”
“You got in a fight,” she stated, and the glimmer of remembrance in his eyes gave it away.
“For the record, I didn’t start it.”
“But you ended it, and I’m guessing the other guy ended up in a hospital bed next to you,” she said, watching his face darken even more. Her heart fluttering, she gripped the back of the chair harder with her left hand. Since living together, this was the first time he’d opened up about his past even a little. Another glimpse into her stoic and arrogant bear of a man.
“He did,” he replied stiffly. “And I was forced to go to anger management classes.”
Hiding the smile creeping across her face, Belle turned back around quickly. “Did that work for you?”