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With nothing left to say or do, I settle into the arms of the man I love and hope and pray he’s right.
Iwake, uncertain of the day or time. The last thing I remember is sobbing in Saxon’s arms until I passed out from sheer fatigue. I crack open an eye. The vivid sunlight streaming in through the parted curtain reveals the place beside me lays untouched.
I slept in the spare bedroom, Saxon’s room, but it appears Saxon didn’t. I suppose he didn’t want to rub salt in the wound because that laceration is one I’m sure won’t heal anytime soon. I have no idea where Sam went, or if he’ll ever come back.
Rolling to my side, I reach for Saxon’s pillow, his scent instantly calming the storm. Cuddling it to my chest, I close my eyes and wonder what comes next. I’ve made my choice, and although I would give anything to take away Sam’s pain, I have to deal with the consequences because this was never going to be easy.
Will Saxon move back to Montana? He has just put his life on hold. Before coming here, he ran a successful business back in Oregon. I can’t just expect him to come back to a place he was so desperate to leave.
The bedside table buzzes, and I see my cell laid atop the mahogany wood. Saxon must have left it in here for me. These little things make me love him all the more.
Brushing my matted hair from my cheeks, I sit upright and reach for my phone. I don’t bother to look at the screen. “Hello?”
“Lucy? Oh god, you sound awful. Are you sick?” Anna, my work colleague, asks.
“Something like that,” I hoarsely reply.
“I’m sorry to call, but I just wanted to let you know Liam and Franny will be coming with you.” My brain is completely fried because I have no idea what she’s talking about. My silence must clue her in to my current predicament. “They’re coming to Syria with you.”
Crap.
Thanks to my life turning to shit in the span of twenty-four hours, I completely forgot I was supposed to be leaving for Syria in two weeks. I was supposed to go for three months, but after everything that’s just happened, there is no way I can go.
My job is to help people in need, and currently, I’m in no state to help anyone. I can’t even help myself. There is no room for error, and with my mind the way it is, I’ll just end up putting myself and others in grave danger. “Anna, I don’t think I can go. Some personal stuff has happened, and well…”
“It’s fine, Lucy. You don’t have to explain.” This is one of the many things I love about Anna. She doesn’t pry. She deals with enough drama. She did raise eight children who were all girls. “I’ll let Terry know. Do you think you could do some legwork for us? We could really use your expertise. You do know all the right people.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I smile. It’s a nice change from wanting to row my pity boat down my river of tears. “Email me everything, and I’ll get to it ASAP.”
We say our goodbyes, and I decide, with no time to waste, to get started on my day. My body feels heavy, drained from the moment I place my bare feet on the cool floor. This pity party for one has to stop. No more tears. Well, I’ll try.
With that as my driving force, I make my way into my bedroom, not at all surprised to see the bed unslept in.
Reaching for my underwear, a white tee, and overall shorts, I head for the shower. The warm water is utter bliss, kneading out the knots in my body. I stand under the spray, hands splayed against the tiles as I think everything over.
My parents will be here any minute, and the thought of having to relive what just happened turns my stomach. Not to mention, I will have to confront Kellie and Greg for what they did. All in all, the next few months can go to hell.
My only saving grace is Saxon. I remember spying on him like a thief in the night, encroaching on a very private moment when he was in here pleasuring himself. I couldn’t turn away because the sight of his broad back, the droplets of water trickling over his muscled planes, and the breathless pants leaving him as he fisted his long, elegant shaft were just too much. I should have known then I was in deep trouble. Who would have thought just how much so?
Quickly turning off the faucet, I dry my heated skin and dress, as being in here is stirring memories that leave me feeling guilty. Sam doesn’t need me flaunting my desire for his brother. I’ve hurt him enough.
Brushing my wet hair and tying it into a top knot, I decide then and there to attempt to keep my hands to myself. Yes, I’ve declared my love for Saxon, but that doesn’t warrant me rubbing Sam’s face in my choice.
Applying some light makeup so I don’t resemble the living dead, I make my way into the kitchen because I need a shot of caffeine—stat. I turn the corner and almost trip over my bare feet because standing in my kitchen is a very sweaty and dirty Saxon Stone.
His back is turned, so he’s not aware of me ogling him as if he’s my next meal. I know I said I’d behave, but Jesus H. Christ, I have to wipe the drool from my chin. His faded blue jeans sit low on his narrow waist, his dimples of Venus accentuating his perfect behind. His back is brawny, every muscle defined and perfectly ridged. His upper shoulders go on for days, and when he raises his mug, taking a sip of what I presume is coffee, the sunlight rebounds off his arm, enhancing the pulsating colors in his tattoo sleeve.
I know he’s not wearing any underwear because his jeans sit low enough to reveal he’s bare beneath. If he only just turned a fraction, I’d be able to feast on his mouthwatering V. As I stand on my tippy toes, head tilted, hoping to catch a glimpse, I realize I’m totally busted.
“Good morning.” His cocky voice has me yelping and almost toppling to the floor.
I do however have to hold the top of a chair for support because when he turns over his shoulder, the tattoo on his flank comes into full view. I suddenly have the urge to run my fingers over each letter, watching as his flesh prickles with my touch.
Remembering my promise some two seconds ago, I tell my raging libido to take a back seat and get my head back in the game. “Morning. Please tell me that’s coffee.” Saxon smirks as he wiggles the freshly made pot.
I practically run for the liquid gold but am about to poke out Saxon’s eyes when he places the loot behind his back. “If you value that arm, you’ll give me that pot right now.” He chuckles, the husky tenor shooting a current all the way to my toes.
“Only if you say please.”
