We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek #11) - Calle J. Brookes Page 0,105

hand slipped to his shoulder. Her legs wrapped around his waist when he lifted her. She was wearing pajamas with strawberries all over them. He removed the pink cotton quickly.

He needed her next to him. “I don’t want him here. Your uncle changes everything. Cranky bastard. I want to carry you off myself. Shout to the rafters of the damned hospital that Izzie MacNamara finally looked at me and made me the happiest man in the world.”

“I don’t want to be the center of gossip at the hospital. Not now.”

“I know.” He knew the real truth. She didn’t trust him. Didn’t believe that once they returned to their lives, he’d still feel as strongly for her as he did now.

Allen wasn’t going anywhere in life without her.

Izzie was the center of his world now. Izzie and his sister.

If he’d told her that now, she’d run screaming into the ocean, certain he’d lost his mind. Or think it was because they’d been shoved together.

Hell, maybe it wasn’t his feelings she doubted, but herself.

This was a temporary roadblock between him and what he wanted most. Allen had patience, especially when it mattered this much.

Izzie. He wanted Izzie. He would always want Izzie. He tried to show her that with his hands and his mouth.

Allen wanted what Rafe and Caine and Turner and Houghton had. He wanted it with Izzie.

He was going to make that happen somehow. He had to show her that she could always trust him.

“I’m not ready to give you up, Izadora. You’d better be prepared.” He had them both naked in seconds and had her beneath him on the bed, gasping. A few cracked ribs weren’t going to stop him from having her one more time before the real world called again. “I’m not ever giving you up.”

It might take some strategic planning—he respected her desire not to be in the midst of the hospital limelight—but Allen wasn’t giving up. He took her, probably more suddenly than she had expected.

She gasped. Cried out his name. His.

This woman was his.

Heaven help him, he was one hundred percent in love with her.

That wasn’t going to change back in Finley Creek.

Allen was going to have to find a way to prove that.

When they were finished, he curled his body around hers. Izzie hated to be cold, especially when she slept.

He would keep her warm forever, if she’d let him.

She practically curled around him like a satisfied cat. Any minute, he was half convinced she’d start purring. “I’m going to miss this every night. I’ve gotten used to not sleeping alone.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her hair and tightened his arms around her. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Until morning.”

“Be forewarned: I’m not giving up on you yet. We’ll work this out.”

He kissed her one more time, then held her tightly until she slept.

Then Allen had some plotting to do.

The best way to get what he wanted from her was to make her think it was her idea. She had feelings for him. He’d bet his life on that. Deep feelings. She wouldn’t be curled up with him now if she didn’t.

He was betting his heart and his future on that very idea.

He’d learned his lesson months ago—Allen only bet on sure things now.

She sighed, then shifted in her sleep. He pulled her closer, mindful of the cast. She was a restless sleeper, he’d learned that weeks ago. Now, he was used to it. Even though she’d clobbered him with the plaster more times than he could count while they were sleeping. He stroked her back until she settled again.

He would have to go slow. Little reminders of what had happened between them. Stolen moments when he could get them.

If it came to it, he could enlist Nikkie Jean’s help. The woman was beyond diabolical at making her schemes happen.

He still had chocolate pudding in his cabinet at home thanks to that woman.

She’d be a direct pipeline into the workings of Izzie—practically as it was happening.

He laughed softly.

Allen was looking forward to the challenge.

87

It took a week and a half before she was able to get back to her regular life. She spent half of those days in front of the prosecuting attorneys going over everything that had happened at W4HAV again and again. At the last minute on the final day of the interviews a new prosecutor had been assigned.

One of Turner’s many cousins.

She got lucky with that, at least. He was very solicitous of how she was feeling at all times.