Page 83 of Over the Limit

“It feels like forever.” He chuckles and then presses a kiss to my forehead and wraps his arms around me.

“I know.” I press my head to his chest and just hold tight, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “That scared me,” I whisper.

The crash has replayed in my head over and over. It’s replayed from a place of me knowing that everyone was all right, but that doesn’t erase the downright terror that owned me for those few fleeting seconds.

He presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “I know, but I’m okay. I’m fine. You can see and feel that for yourself.” He runs his hands up and down my back to reinforce his words. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t be.” My voice is muffled against his chest. “It’s just never easy. The helplessness. The waiting. The not knowing.”

He puts a finger under my chin and lifts it so I’m forced to look in his eyes. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

“I know.” I lean up on my tiptoes and brush my lips over his, reveling in the reassurance of the action. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you—”

“Just land? Yes. Yes, I did. And my first order of business was to see you.” Another brush of his lips.

“Lucky me.”

“Nah, pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” he says.

I brush his hair off his forehead. “You’re really okay? That was a rough one.”

“I’m a little sore.” He chuckles and cups the back of my neck. “But I wanted to see you and . . . I don’t know, just do nothing with you.”

“Do nothing?” I ask as my hands find the back of his neck and start rubbing. It has to be sore from the way he hit the gravel. I swear my heart leapt into my throat.

I yelped out loud as the crash unfolded. I couldn’t help it. I’m just lucky that both Lachlan and Rossi were involved so that my gasp could be mistaken for my ex-boyfriend and not solely for Lach, which would make people look a little closer at me.

“That feels good,” he murmurs as his eyes close and his forehead dips to land on my shoulder.

“Is this where you’re sore?” I ask.

“Mmm,” he says.

“Let’s get you settled. Get your shirt off, get you relaxed, and I can give you a proper rubdown.”

“You’re heaven-sent. But . . . the porch.” He points to where I just shut the door.

“What?” I ask as I open the door to find bags of takeout food.

“Dinner. I didn’t know what you like so I . . .”

“Picked up everything you could find?” Oh my God, there are bags upon bags of food.

“Exactly.” He angles his head to the side, looking so much like a sleepy little boy I want to fold into my arms and not let go of. “You’re right. The not knowing part is daunting.”

“You’re doing a good job of informing me about you with your texts.”

“You like them?” he asks as he hauls some of the bags to my kitchen table. Soon my place smells like a food court in a shopping mall with so many different types of food.

“I do. They are very helpful.” Mexican. American. Chinese. Italian. French. He literally picked up one of everything.

“Then I think you should start doing some to me too. Help a guy out so he knows whether to get pad thai or enchiladas.”

“Neither,” I say and step forward to kiss him again. “I’m boring. I like it simple.”

“Noted.” He nods. “But I’ll be expecting texts now.”

“Fine. I will text but you can ask me too. Over dinner.”