Rome (Marked Men #3)(90)

I giggled a little bit and rested my cheek on his shoulder. His thumb left the metal between my legs and skated up my ribs to stroke lovingly back and forth across my new tattoo. I could feel the edge of his blunt fingernail trace the outline of his name even though he couldn’t see it because I was lying entirely on top of him.

“You okay?”

He grunted and wiggled the fingers on his bad side so that he could stroke my thigh.

“Better than okay. Doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. Sex makes everything better.”

I sighed because it might have felt great, but his eyes were darker than normal with shadows of discomfort and those white lines of pain were back next to his eyes. I tried to disengage from him as carefully as possible, which only led to getting the rest of the bathwater on the floor. I just shook my head and wrapped myself up in a fluffy towel. He was cradling his injured side and his thick thigh muscle was clenching and unclenching involuntarily. He looked sated but not in any kind of hurry to move.

He stroked a hand over his still-furry face and looked up at me in question.

“Thought you wanted this gone?”

I considered him thoughtfully for a second, then reached down both hands to help him lever himself up. We almost ended up back in a tangled heap in the tub due to the wet floor and his unwieldy bulk, but somehow I got him to his feet and a towel wrapped around his trim waist.

“I think I might want you to keep it until you’re all the way healed up.”

I got him to the bed and scooted around the room, throwing on some stretchy yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt so I could clean up the tsunami we left in the bathroom. I could feel his eyes follow me as I bopped around.

“Why?”

I froze for a second and looked at him over my shoulder. Was he really going to make me spell it out for him? I could tell by the half grin dancing around his mouth that he already knew.

“Why what?”

“Why keep it if you don’t like it?”

He always had to have the last word, so I slid up next to his hip on the bed, yanked on the long hairs at the tip of his chin, looked him dead in the eye, and told him, “It tickles. I want to know what it feels like when you can get yourself back down between my legs. Can’t wait, big guy.”

The blue in his eyes blazed so bright and hot I was surprised steam didn’t start to come up off of the water droplets still clinging to his damp skin. I laughed and pushed up off the bed, only to be stopped with his hand on my wrist. His look was serious but his voice was soft when he told me:

“You are everything to me, Cora.”

Seriously … and I worried about him not being the perfect guy? If that was what imperfect got me, I was the luckiest girl in the world. I was going to tell him I felt the same way but he tugged me over him, grinned up at me, and told me to climb up and straddle his face so that he could tickle me the rest of the night. I wanted to laugh but I was equal parts turned on and angry that once again he got the last word.

EPILOGUE

Thanksgiving

“We need to go to the hospital.”

I dropped the Allen wrench I was using to put the crib together on the floor and jumped to my feet. Cora was in the doorway to the nursery twisting her hands together.

“The baby?” I didn’t want to ask; the worst thing I could think of started chasing through my mind even though she had just had a checkup and come away from it the epitome of good health. We also knew we were having a little girl, which blew my mind and already had me in a state of perpetual panic.

“No, it’s Phil. Nash just called. It’s bad. Dad’s already in the truck waiting on us.”

Cora’s dad, Joe, had finally flown out for the holidays and to my relief I got on with the older sailor just fine. Instead of going to Brookside with Rule and Shaw for Thanksgiving with my folks, we had stayed in town and done the holiday thing with just the three of us. Cora had tried to get Nash to bring his uncle, but Phil was still acting strange. He was still avoiding Nash and not showing up at the shop, which had prompted Nash to plan a surprise Thanksgiving invasion of his uncle’s fishing cabin on the outskirts of Boulder.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and I could see the worry etched on her pretty face. I pulled her into a tight hug and her arms immediately went around my waist.

“Nash didn’t know. He said when he got to the cabin he thought it was empty, but Phil’s bike was there. He broke in the door and Phil was unconscious on the floor. He had to call Park Service to get help to get him out. They apparently airlifted him here. I called Rule and he and Shaw are on the way down the mountain. Rowdy, Jet, and Ayden are at the bar with Asa, doing Thanksgiving for the vets, but it’s almost over. Ayden said they would meet us there, but if it’s as bad as Nash made it sound, I don’t know that he’s going to want a crowd around. Dad and Phil go way back, so there’s no way I can keep him from going.”

“If I need to run interference I will, Half-Pint. You know it.”

She gave me a hard squeeze and I saw her put her protective mask in place. She was a warrior in her own right, always ready to march into battle and protect the ones she loved from anything she thought could do them harm or hurt them. I gave one last look at the delicate, white crib and followed her out the bedroom door. Disarming a roadside bomb was easier than putting together baby furniture. All the little parts and pieces were not designed for a guy with paws like mine. At least Cora found it hilarious every time she walked in to find me swearing and threatening death upon inanimate objects.