Lee moved down her body, and the next thing she knew, he’d spread her legs wide.
“Tell me.”
“Lee…” she begged. “…I feel too much.”
His mouth was on her in the next second, and the room started spinning. His satisfied moan nearly sent her over the edge. She was going to come. Around his fingers and against his tongue. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Enough,” she said, pushing his head away and fighting for control.
Lee grabbed her wrists and anchored them to the mattress. “More,” he growled before taking her again.
Lost to the sensation, Wren bucked against him, and the hands that held her shifted. His palms met hers, and their fingers entwined. It was a tender gesture, a loving gesture, and it nearly shattered her.
“Lee, please,” she cried, giving up. “I want you inside me when I come.”
The speed at which he moved almost scared her. Lee was above her again, and, somehow, he’d produced a condom that he deftly tore open.
“All you had to do was ask,” he said, panting. He settled between her legs, but then his eyes locked with hers, and he stilled. “Promise me you won’t look away.”
Wren reached up and buried her fingers in his hair. “What if I can’t?”
Lee pressed himself against her. “Promise me you’ll try.”
She looked into his eyes. Their color was the midnight sky. An endless blue. She could fall all the way in. “I promise I’ll try.”
And then, in one push, he was inside her. The exquisite force of him made her run her hands from his hair down to his back so she could hold on for dear life.
“Oh, God, Lee,” she heard herself say.
His beautiful face swam above her, and she wanted to shut her eyes and hide from him. But then he started to move, and the look in his eyes changed.
And Wren forgot all about herself.
She found herself looking at a man who clearly had discovered the secrets of the universe. A look made of awe and wonder and rapture claimed his whole face. And Wren realized she wasn’t surprised at all, because if anyone on earth deserved to be filled with an infinite joy, it was Lee Hawthorne.
“I’m so lucky to be with you,” she said, drawing a hand up and laying it on his cheek. “You’re so alive.”
Lee breathed a jagged breath. “Wren.”
At the sound of her name on his lips, understanding dawned. The ardent look he wore wasn’t because he knew the secrets of life. It was for her.
“Lee.” She looked into that midnight blue and started to fall.
He reached up and caught both her hands again, drawing them above her head as he drove deeper. Wren wrapped her legs around his hips, matching him drive for drive. At this, Lee gritted his teeth, and the muscles in his neck stood out.
Falling became plummeting. Her entire body was racing toward an event horizon that promised to swallow her whole. And when it did — when she crested again and again — Wren never took her eyes off his.
And Lee never blinked. He shook the bed with his thrusts, and he filled the room with her name, but he held her gaze without fail. He came watching her face, and it was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
He kissed her as their bodies slowed. A deep kiss. One that vowed to return them to this place. One that claimed it as theirs.
When their bodies stilled, and their lungs demanded recovery, Lee panted above her and brushed a stray lock of blue from her face.
“That was… incredible.”
Wren managed to nod. She was glad she wasn’t alone, that it had touched him, too.
And then she did something she’d never had a reason to do. She revealed. “Incredible doesn’t quite cover it,” she said, her voice shaking a little as she felt herself step out on a limb. “It was… life-changing.”
Her reward was immediate. Lee’s smile — and it was a killer smile — overtook him.
“Yes. It was.”
Wren drew in a deep breath, and Lee shifted above her. “I’m crushing you.”
She shrugged. “Only in the best possible way.”
Lee laughed and pushed himself up on his hands. Even though she was completely sated, the sight of his muscled shoulders and chest above her made her swallow, and she absently raised a hand and let her fingers trail down his torso.
Lee’s smile lit with mischief. “You’re trying to kill me.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Only in the best possible way,” she said again, and he tipped his head back and laughed with her.
He lowered himself down and brushed his lips against hers. “You’re fun.” He pushed himself up again. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”
And then, gently, he pulled out and moved off her. Even as she watched his perfect backside retreat toward the bathroom, she shivered. The sunlight coming in through his windows had softened, and the house had cooled.
When he returned to her, she had wrapped her arms around herself and curled onto her side.
“Are you cold?” he asked, climbing back onto the bed. “Here.”
Lee reached up under his pillows and pulled down the sheets. “Get in.”
They hadn’t bothered to get under the covers yet, but Wren did not hesitate to slip into them now. She was cold, and she was also very aware of her nakedness. But, as soon as Lee got in bed beside her and pulled her into his arms, her sense of ease returned.
He nestled her into the crook of his left arm, and she rested her head against his shoulder. Apparently, this didn’t satisfy him. Lee reached down under the covers and hooked her knee with his right hand and placed it over his hip, cinching her closer to him.
“Close enough?” she teased.
The left side of his mouth lifted. “Well, now that you’re here, I don’t want you to get away,” he said, running his hand over her hip.
In response, she traced a finger through the T-shaped patch of hair on his chest. Wren didn’t want to be anywhere else, but she’d used up all her courage with life-changing, so she hoped he could read her mind.
Still, the silence stretched between them, and she felt he was waiting for her to say something. “This feels nice,” she whispered, and, at her words, Lee’s body relaxed a little.
Was he that afraid that she’d sleep with him and then head for the door? Wren bit the inside of her lip. It wasn’t as if she’d never done that before. She’d done it more times than she cared to admit.
Could he sense that about her?
“What are you thinking?” he asked, bringing his hand to her face and brushing back her hair again.
Wren held her breath for two seconds and grasped for the opportunity to change the subject. “I’m sure my hair is a crazy mess right now.”
At that, Lee narrowed his smiling eyes and scrubbed her hair wild. “I fucking love your hair.”
“Then you like messy.”
Lee shook his head. “Not messy. Natural.”
And Wren laughed again. “My hair is blue and ink black. Not very natural.”
“No…” He picked up one of her wavy locks and rubbed it between her fingers. “…it’s better than natural. It is natural beauty embellished with art. Just like the rest of you.”
Wren felt herself blush, so she reached up and tugged at the wayward curl that flopped over his left eye. “This is pretty natural,” she said, twirling it around her finger.
Lee blinked up at it and made a face. “Ah, yes, Harold.”
“H-Harold?” Wren broke into laughter. “You named your cowlick?”
Lee’s eyebrows drew together just a little. “No. That was Marcelle. She said he demanded so much attention that he deserved his own name.” The skin over his perfect cheekbones turned pink as he spoke. “She said she always knew when I was coming because Harold entered the room a full minute before I did.”
Wren’s mouth fell open.
Lee held a smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. In fact, his eyes told her something else entirely.
That bitch.
“That—” She swallowed the word just in time “—that’s really mean.” And she reached up and kissed him right on the sexiest of his sexy curls.
Lee smiled at her for real then, his eyes warm again. He gathered her in his arms and squeezed her to his chest.
It felt so good.
With his lips pressed to her ear, he whispered, “I am so glad you are here with me.”
Held tight in his arms, it was easier to find her courage. “Me, too.”
Lee settled back, but he kept his arms around her. “Will you stay?”
She hesitated only a second. “How long?”
“Until morning?”
“Until morning?” she echoed, half-stunned. “You want me to stay ‘til morning?”
Lee chuckled and dragged his hand through her hair again. “I want you to stay longer, but I have to go to work in the morning.” He moved his palm to her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips. “We can order pizza and take Victor for a walk. And then we can maybe watch a movie or something. Sound okay?”
It should have sounded scary, but it didn’t. Wren nodded and spoke against his thumb. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
“Good.” Lee yawned then, and Wren found herself yawning, too. He picked up his head and checked the clock. “I could use a nap. Would you take a nap with me?”
Her body was already slack, and Lee’s embrace was warm and welcoming. She could probably fall asleep in a matter of seconds. “Sure.”
Lee yawned again. “Awesome… You should know I’m a big fan of naps.”
Wren closed her eyes. “Nothing wrong with that,” she muttered. She tipped her head forward against his chest and breathed in his sagebrush smell.
Does anything smell better than that? she wondered as sleep began to close in.
“Wren?” Lee whispered.
“Yeah?” she whispered back, feeling no need to move or open her eyes.
“Promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up.”
Her heart clenched, and her eyes opened, finding his. Wren brought her hand to his cheek and kissed him three times.
“I promise I will still be here when you wake up.”
And she was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LEE HAWTHORNE WAS in love.
He delivered a baby girl an hour after coming on-shift Tuesday morning — an hour after leaving Wren in his bed — when the realization struck him. He’d watched the baby’s young parents beam through their tears and become a family.
And he knew.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been in love. But nothing in his life compared to this. Both times before — with Marcelle and with Kirsten Parks, his girlfriend from sophomore through senior year at LSU — it had felt like a gradual ascent. Attraction had been base camp, where he started. And each encounter with them had taken him a little higher. Over time, he’d found more to see, more to discover.
This was no gentle ascent. It was a freefall.
If he were honest with himself, he’d been hooked that first night in the hospital. She’d been his patient, and he cared about all of his patients, but something set her apart. He’d never driven any of his patients home before. He’d never lifted them into his Jeep or walked them up to their apartments. Or cleaned their cats’ litterboxes.
And even then he hadn’t wanted to leave her.
Reading her thank-you note… seeing her at the grocery store… finding her among the trees at the courthouse… Flipping through these memories, Lee realized each held a signature of happiness, a brightness that outshone a host of other moments that should have seemed happier by comparison. Like his birthday. The night the Saints won the Superbowl. The day he got the Wurlitzer.
A few sketches of her cat had made him happier than buying a jukebox.
And if he had to pinpoint the moment when he’d fallen, it was on his front porch with a handful of fried peach pies. Looking back on it now, it was so clear to him that this was had been the point of no return.
Because she had proven that she could see into his heart. And not only could she see it, but she’d wanted to touch it. To fill it.
Wren Blanchard might be hard to catch, but she was easy to love.
Of course, Lee knew better. The last thing he could do right now was tell her. He wanted to tell her, but she would freak. That would have to wait.
They’d come so far in just twenty-four hours. After spending the whole day together —the afternoon in his bed — Lee had indeed woken to find Wren still in his arms, a sight that made him absurdly happy.
Wren had wanted a shower, and he was only too pleased to oblige, washing her hair and discovering three sparrows on her perfect backside. He dressed her in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, and he ordered pizza as promised, which they ate standing in his rec room while battling each other over the ping-pong table. As they played, the Wurlitzer cranked out Queen, Rush, Sam and Dave, The Police, and Marvin Gaye, and Lee caught Wren shaking her hips more than once. He’d taken her back to his bed around ten, and they’d made love two more times before he fell into exhaustion.
Hands down, it was the best night of his life.
This thought had him smiling when his phone rang just after nine that morning. Digging it out of his pocket, Lee hoped it was Wren — he hoped, in fact, that she’d just woken up and was calling from his bed. But Dad flashed across the screen.
Shaking off his disappointment, Lee answered. “Hey, Dad.”
“Leland? Did you forget how to use your phone?” his father teased.
Lee rolled his eyes. “Um, clearly not, Dad. And I guess you didn’t either.”
His father chuckled. “What do I have to do to get you to come by and see your old dad? It’s been almost two weeks! Haven’t you had a day off?”
Lee was in the middle of rounds, but he veered away from the nurses’ station in search of more privacy. He ducked into an empty corridor that led to surgical. “Yeah, Dad. Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
“Are they squeezing out every last drop they can get from you? You know it’s not too late to accept Philip Maraist’s offer…” His voice trailed off with a hopeful lilt.
Lee forced a laugh. “Dad, I… um… I already accepted UMC’s.” He cleared his throat and tried to sound more assertive. “I start June 1.”
Silence.
“Have… have you signed anything yet?”
Lee stifled a sigh. “Yeah, Dad. A three-year contract. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” He didn’t hold his breath, but it would have been nice if his father could have been happy for him.
“Son, you’re making a mistake.”
So much for being happy for me.
“I disagr—”
“And more than one, by the looks of it.”
Lee frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well…” It sounded like his words were squeezing through a straw, as if he were trying so hard to contain his frustration that he was suffocating himself. “…Barbara and I were hoping to talk to you about Marcelle.”
Lee’s brows shot up. “What?” He heard the edge in his voice, and he hoped his father did too.
“You see, she and Barbara have been talking…”
“Marcelle and Barbara have been talking?”
What the hell? Lee had not seen Marcelle since the day after he’d brought Victor home. She’d come by to clear out the last of her stuff while he was at the hospital, and she’d left his key. She’d texted him once to see if he wanted his copy of The Martian back, and he’d told her to keep it. That was it. Nothing more.
“Yes, and it seems like she’d welcome the chance to reconcile and see if the two of you could work things out. You did end things pretty abruptly, Leland.” Dr. Thomas Hawthorne said these words with gentle admonishment, as though Lee had simply been careless.
Lee thought he was about to choke. He reached up and loosened his tie. “Dad, that sounds… a little weird. Don’t you think? I mean, we broke up. What is my stepmom doing tal
king to my ex-girlfriend?”
“Leland, they both love you. We all do. We just want what’s best for you,” his father said. “First, you break up with Marcelle, and now you take this charity job? Son, it’s like you’re throwing everything away.”
Lee had heard enough. “Dad, I have patients to see. Patients who need me—”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” he interjected. “I’m not saying there’s no value in what you’re doing—”
“No, you’re saying you don’t value what I’m doing,” Lee shot back.
“You’re angry,” his father said, sounding disappointed.
And Lee felt like he’d lost ground. A familiar weight pulled him down from inside his chest. Anger became heavier, feeling more like defeat.
“I’m not angry,” he lied. “I have to go.”
“You haven’t changed since you were eleven,” Tom said, effectively calling Lee a child. “You let yourself get angry, and you run away.”
The way he said it, Lee couldn’t tell which his father disliked more: the anger or the escape. He only knew that when it came to his dad, neither was acceptable.
“Dad, I have a patient who came in yesterday with toxic shock syndrome,” he said in the most civil tone he could muster. “I need to check on her, so if you wouldn’t mind—”
“At least come for dinner on your next day off,” his father said, intent on clearing the air. “When is that?”
Lee let go a sigh. “Next Tuesday.” But as soon as the word left his mouth, he cursed himself. He’d want to spend the day with Wren — at least as much of it as he could. He could invite her to join, but Wren wasn’t ready to meet Tom and Barbara Hawthorne, and Tom and Barbara Hawthorne weren’t ready to meet Wren.
He’d figure something out. Call later in the week and see if he could go to dinner with them after one of his day shifts ended — on a night when Wren would be working. Already he knew her schedule, and he wanted, as much as possible, to fix his to match. It wouldn’t be easy since she worked noon to ten p.m. and his twelve-hour shifts were six to six. But he wanted as much time with her as he could get.
“Sure, Dad. That sounds fine.” He pretended agreement, smoothing over the rough spots and giving his father what he wanted.
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