Sebring (Unfinished Heroes #5)(89)
He released her mouth after she released his cock and wrapped her arm around his ribcage.
He opened his eyes to see her looking at him.
“So, did that earn me cinnamon French toast?” she asked.
Nick stared at her.
Then he burst out laughing.
*
9:02 – The Same Sunday Morning
Standing at his kitchen counter with Livvie next to him, close, in the curve of his arm, he lifted to her mouth a fork full of the crunch coated, cinnamon French toast smothered in maple syrup that he’d made his girl.
When her lips closed around it, he slid the fork out. She chewed. He watched her eyes get big with happiness and wonder and she again meant more to him than she did the previous day…hell, the previous moment.
And she did this in a way that he knew every moment with her would give him that same feeling.
He wasn’t falling in love.
She had him.
He was hers.
She swallowed and instantly asked, “Can I blow you and jack you every morning for French toast?”
“Absolutely,” he answered just as instantly.
She pressed deep and dissolved into laughter.
Yeah.
Definitely.
Every moment with Livvie.
She gave him that same feeling.
In a way he knew.
He knew.
He knew she’d give him that now…
And forever.
Chapter Twenty-One
Who Do You Belong To?
Nick
5:45 – That Next Friday Evening
Nick sat in the aisle seat, staring ahead of him, only the stragglers that were sitting back in coach coming up the gangway.
Liv was not beside him.
An hour ago, she’d texted that she was on her way.
It did not take an hour to get from DTC to DIA.
From taking his seat in the waiting area prior to boarding to right then, having been sitting in his seat in first class for the last twenty minutes, he’d texted her three times and phoned once.
He got nothing.
His neck was not itching.
He was coming out of his skin.
They’d made their plans together, bought their tickets separately, and had chosen their adjoining seats on their respective laptops pressed up next to each other at his bar twenty-three hours and forty-nine minutes ago.
Now he was getting nothing.
He looked back to his phone in his hand when it beeped with a text. He pulled it up immediately.
It wasn’t a text from Liv. It was a text from Sylvie.
Knight’s men clean. Not a surprise. Your boys clean. Again no surprise. Focus now is on the Feds.
As he suspected.
It was good to have it confirmed. It would be f*cking great to know, finally, who f*cked him and Hettie from the inside.
He didn’t reply to Sylvie. He also didn’t send another text to Olivia.
He sent one to his boy who was on her.
Where’s my woman?
The reply came quickly.
Peeled off fifteen minutes ago when she hit the door to DIA. She had no tail so I thought she was good. She’s not with you?
His thumb ready to move on his phone, his head snapped up when he heard a soft, delicate, winded, “I made it!”
He saw Olivia, looking flushed and flustered, smiling apologetically at the flight attendant as she rushed around the corner into the aisle.
Her eyes came to him.
Her smile got bigger.
He slid out of his seat and did it frowning at her.
Not only at her, at the fact she was late, smiling like she hadn’t scared the shit out of him, and last, she had no luggage with her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted as she made her way to him. Reaching him, she put her hand to his abs and stretched up for a kiss.
He continued to frown down at her so her smile wavered, her eyes grew confused and she aimed her kiss at his jaw.
She slid into her seat while the flight attendant gave the announcement they soon would be closing the door.
He sat and texted Casey, She’s here, all good.
He then turned to his girl.
“You gonna wear that outfit all weekend?” he asked as Olivia tucked her purse under the seat in front of her.
She straightened, grabbing her seatbelt and looking to him.
“Sorry?”
“Babe,” he grunted. “Luggage.”
“I checked it.”
He stared at her.
“That’s why I’m late,” she explained. “Traffic on 225. Just a semi off the road, but everyone had to slow down to gawk. Then I had to check my bag.”
“You think to return my texts so I didn’t worry?” he asked.
“I told you I was on my way and you know I don’t text and drive, Nick,” she retorted, her attention to her lap as she clicked her belt. Done with that, she again looked to him. “And calling you or texting you would have delayed me getting to you.”
“Checking your bag delayed you too.”
She shook her head in abbreviated shakes, like a head shudder, indicating she found what he said distasteful.
Her tone stated the same thing when she decreed, “I don’t do carry-ons.”
“Liv, we’re gonna be gone two days.”
At that, she stared at him.