Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(61)

She was not intimidated. Promises, promises.

Pulling into The Haven, I don’t see any other vehicles. This is the second time I’ve been here, the first just last week when we got back from Chicago. Savannah wanted to get a few volunteer hours in and had asked if I wanted to come. I didn’t particularly, but I was making amazing progress on the manuscript now with Savannah’s help on all the other crap I had to handle, and frankly, I didn’t want to be away from her.

So I said yes.

And I had fun.

It was hard work, but seriously… how can playing with cute puppies not be fun? And yes, maybe I played with the dogs more than I helped Savannah, but she just smiled at me while shaking her head, and I let her do the dirty work while I rubbed every dog’s tummy at least a dozen times.

Pulling around back, I see Brody’s truck but not Savannah’s car. He comes walking out of the kennel just as I exit the Maserati.

Brody gives a low whistle. “Damn, dude… that is a sweet ride.”

“You can take it out for a spin any time you want, mate,” I tell him as he walks around it, eyeing the sleek lines and shiny paint.

“I’ll take you up on that sometime,” he says, and then adds on, “Looking for Savannah?”

“Yeah… just got in from the airport, and she said she’d be here.”

“She was until about an hour ago, when I found her practically keeled over on the floor. She’s way too sick to be working today.”

Cursing, I walk back toward my car. “Thanks. I’m off to go spank her for getting out of bed when I specifically told her not to.”

“Give her a whack from me,” Brody calls out, and I shoot him a wave as I get in my car to go take care of my girl.





I find Savannah in my bed—our bed really—curled up in a fetal position with the blankets pulled up under her chin. Her forehead is sweaty and her skin clammy. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, I stroke her head lightly and say, “Savannah… baby… I’m home.”

Her eyes immediately open and focus on me, and a sleepy smile comes to her face. “Hey,” she says, and her voice still sounds like a frog is stuck in her throat.

“Not feeling any better, I see.”

She shakes her head and coughs into the crook of her elbow.

“And didn’t I tell you to stay in bed? Brody said you were practically passed out on the floor today,” I chastise her.

Savannah’s eyebrows draw inward, and she whines to me, “I wanted to be better. I wanted to be better because I knew you were coming home today and look… I even put on sexy underwear because I wanted to seduce you.”

She pulls the covers down, and she is indeed in some sexy-as-f*ck lingerie… black, see-through lace, and no matter that my girl has a red nose and snot running out of said nose, my cock twitches at her beautiful, lace-clad body.

I pull the covers back up around her and tuck them back under her chin. “Bad girl. You had no business being out of bed, and you certainly are in no condition to prance around in that get up, trying to get me all hard, knowing I can’t take advantage of you. I’m so going to tear your ass up when you’re better.”

She’s feeling well enough to give a soft laugh over my non-existent threat, and then she gives me a tender smile. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I tell her as I lean over to kiss her forehead. “Now, when was the last time you ate?”

She shrugs her shoulders, and I give her a disapproving glare. She grins back at me.

“Chicken soup, medicine, and then I’m ordering you to sleep while I get some work done, okay?”

“Okay,” she says sleepily, rolling back over to close her eyes while I go fix her some lunch.





“You’re going to get sick,” Savannah grumbles.

“I’m not going to get sick,” I tell her and squeeze her closer.

My well-laid plans to feed her, medicate her, and then go to work have been waylaid. I took one look at her lying in bed, realized how much I had missed her the last two days, and said, Fuck the manuscript.

I stripped down to my underwear and crawled in bed with her. I pulled her into my arms over her protests that she’d make me sick and tucked her in tight.

We watched TV for a while and Savannah dozed on and off, occasionally coughing… a wheeze here and there. She wasn’t running a fever though, so I just let her sleep while I held her. At six o’clock, I got up and heated us up some more soup, made her take her antibiotics and cough syrup, and then ran a bath for her.

She was a bit shaky while I peeled the black lace off her body and helped her step into the tub. I sat on the ledge while she washed herself, leaning over and helping her every once in a while, just so I could touch her.

“Bad boy,” she whispered hoarsely, and I couldn’t agree with her more.

After I got her out of the tub, I dried her body and her hair. Slipping one of my T-shirts over her head, I packed her back off to bed. I knew I should go and work on the book some more, but I couldn’t help myself and crawled back in bed with her.

Savannah laces her fingers through mine and snuggles in closer to me. “Are you close to your parents?”

I squeeze against our threaded fingers and stroke her hip with my other hand. “Sure. I mean… we’re pretty close. After Charlie died and I sort of went off the deep end, things were strained for a while, but my parents were like f*cking rocks for me.”