Page 58 of His Wounded Heart

“Simon—”

Shoot, he’s hung up.

I call him back. It just rings and rings. The butthead isn’t picking up.

I scramble into my bathroom. My face looks terrible. I try to think. It will probably take him thirty minutes to get here.

I put a washcloth under the cold water and wring it out. Then I lie down on my bed and set my phone alarm for fifteen minutes. I put the cloth over my face.

It should help.

For fourteen minutes and thirty seconds, I remember how it felt to lie on Simon’s hard body. His muscles felt so good even as I sobbed.

I remember shifting a tiny bit so that my pebble hard nipples could seek the pleasurable zing of passion, which had been pretty darn impressive, since we were each wearing two layers of clothes. He’d held me through my flashback. Through my sobs. Then, as I started to settle, he continued to stroke lazy circles on my back as he hummed some pretty song to me.

I had been in heaven.

As I’d pushed up from him and he’d caught my head in his big hands and looked me in the eye, he’d given me a warm smile. “You’re better now, but not good enough to drive back to town.”

He’d been right, but there was no way I was going to stay with him.

“Simon,” I’d said in a breathy voice. “I have to leave. Chloe and Zarek will be dropping Bella back to my house by seven o’clock tonight.”

“Call your sister and tell her to keep Bella overnight. The roads will be icy. I’m not letting you drive that SUV under these conditions.”

“Fiddlesticks. This is not the first time I’ve driven on icy roads, and it won’t be the last time.” I’d said. I pushed up from those hard muscles, this time pressing against his washboard abs.

“If you’re so determined to go, I’m going to follow you to make sure you get home safely, and I don’t want to see you exceeding twenty miles an hour. Got it?”

I’d rolled my eyes. “Yes Sir, Commander.”

He’d easily pushed us both into a sitting position.

“No more lip, Lady. My number one priority is keeping you safe.”

I melted at his words.

My alarm goes off.

Urrgh! I liked that daydream!

I whip the washcloth off my face and race to the bathroom.

Better.

Much better. I don’t look like the bride of Frankenstein. Now for something a little better than the college look.

The yoga pants can stay, but the Tennessee Volunteers shirt has to go. I pull it off, then throw it into the hamper.

I shoot, I score.

Rifling through my closet, I finally find a pretty, frothy, green peasant blouse. It doesn’t cover my ass, but it has to do. I go and look at my phone again. I have about three more minutes. I jump to the bathroom and rummage through the top drawer of my bathroom vanity. I should use make-up more often, maybe then I’d know where my eyeliner and mascara were.

Finally!

I at least find the mascara. I pull out the wand.

Shoot!