What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,71
pulling her up and closer.
“However, I really shouldn’t spend the night.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “You know how I feel. Morning sex is like friends with benefits. Spending nights, sleeping together leads to relationships and—”
“Sweetheart.” The amusement in his voice stopped her cold.
She eyed him.
“You’re too late. We already have a relationship, no matter how you label it. Making love is just that—whether the sun is up or not.” He stroked her back.
Her breathing stopped as she heard the certainty in his words. He was right. They didn’t fuck; they made love.
“I know you plan to leave at the end of summer,” he said gently. “Let’s be together while we can.”
“Yes.” The word slipped out of her, because there was nowhere else she’d rather be than with him. In his bed with his arms around her, with Gryff’s head resting on her foot.
It felt like a perfect moment of pure contentment and happiness. Like there should be starry skies and haunting violins and…
She blinked. “I thought I was half-dreaming, but that’s a violin. For real.”
Bull chuckled. “For real. Hawk sits on his deck and plays when he’s having trouble sleeping or a bad day. We all…”
With a frown, Frankie braced an arm across his chest so she could lift up and watch Bull in the shadowy light. It must be extremely late if the sun had finally set. “You all…what?”
He sighed. “We all served. Saw action overseas. Ugly shit, Frankie. And we all have the odd nightmare or bad day because of what we saw. And did.”
As her heart went all melty with tenderness, she caressed his face in a futile attempt to soothe. “It’s not fair that being brave and risking your life can mean suffering for it afterward. It should be a one-time mess, then over and done.”
He snorted. “I agree.”
If only she could wave a magic wand and make it all better. This must be how mothers felt when their babies got hurt. Yet it turned her all warm ‘n’ fuzzy that her tough guy had admitted to not being a superman. She lightened her tone to half-teasing and half-serious. “Do you all play the violin?”
“Jesus, that would be a nightmare. No. But we’ve all spent hours under the stars, on the deck or in the gazebo. Waiting for the memories to fade, soaking in the peace.” He ran a finger along the curve of her ear. “If I get up at night, that’s why.”
“Okay. But, be warned, my orsacchiotto. Since this is now a relationship, if you stay out too long, I’ll come and find you.”
“Will you now?” His voice had the rumbling purr he used when he was pleased. And he pulled her down for a tender kiss.
Chapter Fifteen
Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important. ~ Sara Gruen
On a sunny afternoon two days later, Hawk sat with his feet up on his deck railing. Gryff lay beside his chair. If Bull wasn’t home, the dog would latch onto whoever was outside—even Hawk.
Hawk studied the mutt. “Haven’t I mentioned I don’t like dogs?”
Big brown eyes met his, calling him on the lie, and Hawk dropped a hand over the side of his chair to ruffle the soft fur.
Gryff thumped his tail on the planking then laid his head down with a contented sigh.
Hawk shook his head. He had company while playing. Huh. He tucked his violin back under his chin. He’d been playing for the past hour. Serenading the lady of the lake.
Years ago, a pagan co-pilot had said everything on earth had its own spirit—trees and lakes and mountains—and Hawk had scoffed.
Then came years of wading through blood, surrounded by death…and the man’s quiet belief in…life…had grown on Hawk. Who knew? It was a comfort to think the lake’s spirit enjoyed his music. He’d even composed a few tunes for her.
The quiet was disturbed by the sound of a vehicle on their private road and the opening and closing of a garage door.
Gryff gave a low woof and raced across the grass onto Bull’s deck. Nose against the glass, the dog quivered with anticipation.
Guess Bull was back. Probably to get ready for work.
Was he alone or with the yorkie? She’d spent the night after the Italian meal and last night, as well.
Hawk’s mouth twisted. His brothers had found themselves girlfriends. Not surprising. They were damned good-looking. Got on with people. Women pursued all three of them with the tenacity of a coyote pack after rabbits.