Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(55)

I sat in the dark listening to him breathe then he started mumbling in his sleep. I grinned but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He chuckled. I would have paid good money to know what he was dreaming about. But then I heard my name jumbled amongst a few other slurred words.

He was dreaming about me? I shrugged. It made sense; we’d had one crazy day.

“No,” he said. “Waste… dirty dog… ten all the way.” Then he spoke another string of indiscernible words.

He was dreaming about the day I came back from Florida, and when I’d told him about Stephen. It’s odd the places your brain takes you when you sleep. I had firsthand knowledge of that. I shut my eyes as he jabbered on, half listening to words mumbled through grunts and wet-lipped sounds.

The next words spoken were nothing I expected to hear.





Seventeen



He hadn’t said what I thought he’d said, had he? I smiled and leaned in closer, listening to Vance as he slept. I’d heard the word “love” mixed in with a string of others. Maybe the girl who’d been in his house a few days ago when I called was someone more serious, and he was holding back on me. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. I wanted to know who this man, who was so determined to not be with someone long enough to know her name, let alone love, loved. I bent my knees up and hugged them, resting my head on my arm.

Then he made a sound like he’d bitten into his mother’s cannoli—which was out of this world delicious—then he uttered, “Diana,” in a long, breathless whisper.

I flinched. What the hell was he dreaming about? Briefly, the image of his face hovering over mine flashed in my mind. I shook it away; it made no sense. It was only a dream. He was heavily drugged and obviously had no idea what he was saying. Yet, my heart was pounding and a strange blend of emotions—fear and excitement—swirled deep in my belly.

He quieted again, and then moved slightly, releasing a deep moan. His medication had to be wearing off, and the pain in his shoulder was starting to bother him. That was all it was. I walked around to his side of the bed and sat down next to him. I put my hand on the sheet covering his chest.

“Vance,” I whispered, nudging him gently. “I have some medicine here if you need some.” I palmed the two Percocet tablets on his nightstand and closed my fist around them.

His eyes opened slowly. The lights were on, but he wasn’t home. He eased up cautiously onto his elbows, resting the majority of his weight on his uninjured side, his disoriented eyes locked on mine.

“Vance? Do you need some more medicine?” I asked, leaning in.

He sluggishly shook his head and blinked. He reached for my face, and my heart instantly began thumping wildly inside my chest.

I should have ducked away from his hand—he was dreaming and didn’t know what he was doing—but something kept me right where I was. He pulled me toward his face, and I watched it happen in slow motion, like an outsider looking in. He closed the distance between us, and I could only stare into the depths of his milky eyes. His soft, tired lips touched mine.

He enveloped my mouth and without restraint, I parted my lips and closed my eyes. His tongue, gentle and probing, explored my mouth then he inhaled a deep breath against my cheek. His fingers slipped back further into my hair, and he brought me closer still, mollifying me with his strong hands. I couldn’t stop myself as our mouths and tongues moved together. I fisted the sheets with my hands. We shouldn’t have been doing what we were doing—I shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing—but it was as if the drugs coursing through him had invaded my body, clouding my mind.

Then as unexpectedly as it had begun, it stopped. Vance pulled himself back. Holding my head, he grinned crookedly then sank back into bed. Within seconds, sleep brushed its hand over his brow and started humming him a private lullaby, pulling him back into the darkness. Moments later, a gentle rumble coming from deep within his throat floated into the air, and I was left tracing the kiss still heating my lips.

I needed to leave and pangs of regret punched me in the stomach. What had I done? My God, if he remembered, our relationship would be changed forever. I stood up, and as I did, Vance began to groan again but louder. The sound he made took on a different tone. He rolled on to his side and held his stomach.

“Vance, are you okay?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

My words registered, and he shot straight up and threw the covers off his body. He knocked me on my ass as he ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I heard the porcelain lid hit the tank and then I listened to him vomit. I got off the floor and stood outside the door waiting for him to stop. After a series of coughs, and a final flush, water started running. The doorknob turned, and he emerged.

“Oh my God, shoot me,” he said, leaning against the frame.

“Sorry, someone already beat me to it.” I smirked. “You okay?”

“My stomach is twisting in knots and my head is spinning. I feel awful.”

His stomach was twisting in knots? I almost laughed. “It’s probably the pain medicine. It makes me nauseous if I have it on an empty stomach. Maybe a little food will do you some good. Want to go downstairs?”

He rubbed his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

“A couple of hours. I ran to the pharmacy and came back and you never budged. Do you have any chicken soup? It’ll be gentle on your stomach.”