DONOVAN (Gray Wolf Security, #1)(102)

He lay me in the center of that perfect bed, crawling up beside me, his mouth seeking mine again. I slid my fingers into his hair and pulled him tighter against me, opening to him before he had to ask. I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what would happen when we left this bed, but I knew I wanted to feel the warmth of his touch and the spice of his kiss. And that was all that mattered to me right now.

He undressed me slowly, his lips exploring each inch of flesh that exposed itself as my clothing hit the floor. I laid still, watching the contrast of his warm skin against my paler flesh, watching the pleasure that floated in his eyes each time he looked up at me. I helped him out of his shirt, unable to bite back the moan that came each and every time I saw the beauty of his pecs, of his broad shoulders, and his awesome abs.

And then he was tugging me underneath him, and that touch that was growing so familiar sent waves of pleasure up and down my spine, made my thoughts disappear. I pressed my bare feet to the backs of his legs, pushed my hips up as tight against his as I could. I felt a shiver run the length of his body, and that made the pleasure my body was receiving that much better. How I could I not feel pride in the fact that I could make such a big, strong man shiver like a child? And then he began to kiss my throat, his hips moving in a slow roll, and I forgot everything but what it felt like to have this amazing man inside of me.




I woke hours later, content in the warmth of the hotel bed sheets, the smell of Harrison’s cologne all around me. I didn’t open my eyes, didn’t move, content to just lie in the receding peace of sleep. But then I heard his voice, words I didn’t at first understand. But then as sleep drifted further and further away, they began to make sense.

“…he plays football. What I really want to know is if there is any way we can make sure he will be ready for spring training come March or April?”

Silence for a minute, and then: “And that’s in Portland?”

Portland. He was making plans to take JT away.

Tears burned my throat, but they didn’t spill. I think maybe my eyes were just too dry. I’d cried so much these last few days, there simply wasn’t anything left.

I must have said, or done something else to alert him to the fact that I was awake.

“Let me get back to you,” I heard him say. And then I felt his weight on the bed just before his hand fell on my shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” he said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

He pressed a kiss to that space between my shoulder and my throat, my body responding instantly with a rash of goose pimples.

“I talked to the nurse at the hospital. She said that JT’s been sleeping since you left. And Nick’s there, sitting with him until we can get back.”

“Okay.”

There must have been something in my voice. He tugged at my arm, pulling me onto my back, his eyes—always so expressive—filled with concern.

“What’s going on?”

I sat up, tugging the sheet up over my breasts, suddenly wishing I was fully dressed before we began this conversation. But, again, he wasn’t really dressed, either. He’d pulled on his briefs, but was naked otherwise. And that didn’t make anything easier. His chest was quite distracting.

“Penelope…”

He reached over and touched my jaw lightly, lifting my chin to force my eyes to his. I shook my head free and watched his expression change as his hand fell to the mattress.

“You’re taking him to Oregon.”

The truth fell like a brick wall between us. His nod only added the finishing touches.

“But it’s not what you think.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I signed that paper, giving you custody. You’re free to do what you want.”

“I didn’t sign it. I still have it, in my suit jacket.”

I cocked my head slightly, shocked as much by the honesty in his eyes as his words.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to do this together. I don’t want to take him from you and just offer you a visit here and there. I want you to be a part of his life.”

“But you live in Oregon and I live here.”

He waved his hand like that didn’t matter. “We can work it out.”

“How?”

And that was the real question. I could see the wheels turning in his head, useless as a truck stuck in the mud. He didn’t know any better than I how best to proceed. So we were just back where we’d started. Stuck.

“There’s an orthopedic surgeon I know who specializes in athletes,” he said, apparently changing the subject. “I told him what happened to JT and asked what he’d recommend.”

“And?”

“He knows this physical therapy clinic in Portland where they’ve had some real success with this kind of injury. We’ll have to send him JT’s x-rays and whatever, but he thinks he can get JT into the program as early as next week.”

“But the doctor said—“

“This guy says that it would be better to start as soon as possible. There are things they can do while JT’s still recovering that will strengthen his muscles and get him ready for the actual rehab part. My friend says that it makes a huge difference in the range of recovery the patient can expect – that JT could expect.”