Relaxed, I dozed until someone knocked on our door. The woman with our laundry also had a pair of shoes for Michelle, a set of toothbrushes, and a small tube of paste. I thanked her and closed the door. I took everything into the bathroom.
After brushing and changing into clean clothes, I went back to Michelle. She hadn’t moved much in her sleep. The few times she did, she frowned. Her stomach was definitely hurting her. Gently, I trailed my fingers over the bruise.
It took an hour before her breathing changed. I stopped trailing my fingers along her skin and waited. Her pulse increased, but she didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she tried to ease my hand off her stomach but cringed at the effort.
“Might as well open them,” I said softly.
Her eyes popped open, and she turned her head to look at me. I ran my fingers over her skin again. Her eyes widened, and a jolt of panic came over our link as she let out a squeak. She lifted her head to look down at herself, winced, and dropped her head back down to the pillow.
I waited for her reaction to what I’d done. She didn’t yell. No anger came over the link. Love washed over me. Her love. Every moment I spent with her humbled me. I might not deserve her now. Maybe not ever. But, I would take every day as another chance to try to be the man worthy of her.
She turned her head and gave me a shy smile, her heart skipping a beat.
“You lied to me,” I said, trailing my fingers over the worst bruise. “You’re not fine. How much pain are you in?”
She glanced down at her stomach and slightly shook her head. “Emmitt, I’ll live. Don’t make a big deal out of this.”
A thread of embarrassment reached me. I didn’t understand how my concern would embarrass her. She pulled the robe around her, rolled to her side, and boosted herself up on one arm. Although I felt the pain through our link, she was careful to keep her expression bland, a clear sign she didn’t want my help. After a moment, she slid her legs off the bed and eased herself into a full sitting position.
She glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed.
“We need to get to the lawyer’s office. How long will it take from here? I don’t even know where we are,” she said.
Jim would love knowing he was right. Grey, too.
“About thirty minutes,” I said, answering her original question as I got out of bed and moved to help her stand.
“Really, Emmitt, I’m fine,” she said.
Determination hit me, and I knew what she was going to do as soon as she leaned forward. I quickly offered my hand, unwilling to watch her hurt herself more. Even with my help, she winced and leaned into me.
As I held her in my arms and waited for the pain to fade, she lightly bit my neck. The sensation of her teeth on my skin sent a jolt of need through me. Humor pushed pain aside as she tried to hide her grin.
To say I loved and needed this woman was an understatement. I existed because of her, for her. She was, and would remain, everything to me.
I helped her to the bathroom where she quietly retreated for the next five minutes. When she emerged, her hair was smoothed down, she wore her clean clothes, and she smelled slightly minty. She looked ready to meet the reporter.
She eyed my clean yet ripped shirt, and I knew I wasn’t.
“We’re going to need to get our things,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose at the idea.
“They dropped these off this morning,” I said, showing her the shoes before bending down to help her step into them. She lightly rested a hand on my shoulder as she lifted one foot then the next. It reminded me of the night I’d taken her to dinner, and my fingers itched to caress her calf.
“Ready?” I asked when both flats were on.
“Just a second.”
She walked back into the bedroom and stood there, looking around for a moment. A sense of awe washed over me, and I knew she was remembering last night. She was mine. Finally.
She glanced back at me and reached for my hand.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Love washed over me, and I kissed the back of her hand before we left the suite. She was silent as she walked beside me. I