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Beck stared at the ceiling, every muscle in his body as rock-hard as his dick. If there was ever a time he needed his control…
He tried to close his eyes and empty his mind. But the luscious scent of her warm body filled his nose and teased him to the edge of sanity. All he could think about was losing his clothes, rolling her over, and sinking so deep inside her sweet pussy.
“This must be what hell feels like,” Seth muttered.
Beck bit back a snarl and closed his eyes. “I don’t think Satan could have thought of a torment any worse. Sweet dreams, fucker.”
Still floating between sleep and consciousness, Seth rolled over to find his face buried in the soft velvet of a woman’s neck. Lifting one heavy lid, he blinked as sunlight trickled around the edges of the dark curtains and gave the room a warm glow. Heavenly, still deep in sleep, came into focus. He jerked around and stared. Unfamiliar room. Unfamiliar bed. Beck’s condo.
Everything that had happened last night came rushing back.
He was still as conflicted now as he’d been then.
Thank god Heavenly was safe. And though he should probably thank Beck for stopping him from killing her landlord, Seth still wished he’d dusted the cocksucker. But Heavenly needed him far more than he needed revenge.
What else had Beck been right about?
He’d had most of a long, largely sleepless night to ponder that question.
Will you really be lost without us both, angel?
Lifting onto one elbow, he stared at Heavenly sleeping so serenely beside him. It had been a long time since he’d woken up with a woman. But waking up next to this one felt shockingly natural. It felt right.
Beneath her thin lids, her eyes darted back and forth. She was dreaming, hopefully deep in REM sleep. She needed it. He still saw dark circles under her eyes. No surprise. The poor girl had been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders for too long.
“I’ll take care of you. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.
After placing a soft kiss on her cheek, Seth eased off the mattress.
Wearing the sweat pants he’d borrowed from Beck, he left the bed, found a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, then padded to the kitchen. The clock told him it was just shy of eleven. A fresh pot of coffee sat in the brewer, beside two empty mugs. Seth filled one and peered out the window to see Beck sitting in a lounge chair on the balcony, sipping coffee and staring out at the Pacific.
Steeling himself for the unavoidable conversation, Seth tugged the sliding door open.
“Morning,” Beck greeted. “Come on out and join me.”
The ocean view shimmering under the bright Los Angeles sun was killer. Below them, the waves rolled and tumbled onto the sand. “It doesn’t suck to wake up to this.”
Beck smirked. “It’s not so bad. Is Heavenly…”
“Still asleep.” He sat down in the other empty chair, still staring out at the shimmering blue water. An awkward silence stretched between them. “Any word on Abel?”
“He’s in stable condition. They’re running tests now. The head of neurology has requested his records from the VA. Once Litchfield has gone over all that, I suspect we’ll be making arrangements to move him to a rehab facility, but we’ll wait and see what he recommends.”
“Knowing her father is getting the right treatment should be a huge weight off Heavenly’s shoulders. I’m sure she’ll appreciate all you’re doing for her and her dad.”
“Maybe, but I worry she’ll resist not living under the same roof with him. I already know she’s going to fight the fact that we intend to take care of her.”
“After everything you said last night…I’m prepared for that.” He stared at the ocean some more.
When he lifted his mug of coffee, Seth accidentally bumped his hand on the edge of the table. Pain shot up his arm. He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. The battered flesh around his knuckles ripped open. Blood seeped from the wound, staining the ridges around his sore, swollen joints.
Beck tsked. “Let me see that.”
“I cleaned it out last night.” Seth waved him away. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” Beck snagged his wrist and inspected the gash. “You need a couple stitches. Sit tight. I’ll get my bag.”
“I don’t need any damn stitches.” Seth was as fond of needles as he was of California sliding into the damn ocean, but kept that to himself.
“You a doctor now?” Beck challenged.
“Shut up.”
“Why don’t you, before you accidentally wake Heavenly?”
Cursing, he watched the doctor shoot out of his seat and into the condo. When he returned with a backpack, Seth fidgeted, sending up a silent prayer not to puke.
Beck dragged his chair closer before unzipping his pack. Then he prepared antiseptic, a needle and thread, and a sterile bandage. Though the morning was cool, sweat began dripping down Seth’s back. His stomach pitched like a damn Tilt-A-Whirl.
