Page 13 of Healing Love

I glare at him playfully, and he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. This man. “Fine. I suppose I don’t want to put on dirty underwear anyway.” Elliot grins victoriously, making me laugh and roll my eyes.

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his chest before kissing the top of my head. “Thank you for letting me in, sunshine. I’ll have my friend look at your car today and then I’ll be here to pick you up when you get off work. When does your last appointment end?”

“Four,” I tell him, relaxing into his embrace.

“Four it is.” Elliot gives me one last lingering kiss, then unlocks the door and steps out into the hallway, leaving me breathless and slumped against my desk.

I can’t believe that just happened. And I already can’t wait to do it again.

5

ELLIOT

I’m just refilling my coffee for the second time when my sweet sunshine pads down the hallway and pokes her head into the kitchen, where I’m sitting. She’s so damn cute with sleep still clouding her eyes.

“Morning,” she says with a shy smile. “I guess I kind of overslept, huh?” Brielle yawns and I grin, loving the fact that she’s here, in my space.

“You can’t oversleep on a Saturday. That’s like, the golden rule of Saturdays.” This earns me a sweet smile that has my heart melting for her.

“That’s true,” my girl agrees, nodding her head as she sits at the table next to me. “Plus, I was waiting for my wake-up call. Day one and you’re already going back on our deal?”

She lifts an eyebrow, half teasing, half challenging me to make good on my promise. I stand from my seat so abruptly that my chair clatters to the floor on its side. I’m leaning over Brielle in the next second, my hands resting on either side of the arms of her chair.

Brushing my nose against the side of her neck, I breathe in her candy-sweet, citrusy scent. I’ve been wondering if it’s her shampoo or soap that smells so good, but I think it’s just Brielle. She’s addictive, everything about her.

“Don’t think for a second I won’t spread you out right here on this table,” I growl. Brielle’s pulse is pounding against the side of her neck, and I nip the skin there before placing a kiss over the same spot. “But you were so tired last night,” I remind her, my voice softening as an image of her curled up in the passenger’s seat of my truck.

She was sound asleep by the time we got up the mountain. Her tiny snores made my heart ache for everything she’s been through. I’m just satisfied that she trusted me and felt safe enough to fall asleep in my truck.

I carried her inside and woke her up just enough to get her to change into one of my t-shirts. Then I tucked her into bed before crawling in behind her and falling into the deepest sleep I’ve had in years. I never thought I’d find anything in life as fulfilling as being a Ranger, but providing for Brielle, making her smile, and ensuring her safety clicks in a way nothing else ever has. I know I would be content just to be in her presence every day.

“I know,” Brielle whispers. “I was kidding. Mostly.” My girl winks at me and nips at my bottom lip. I rise to the challenge, fusing our lips together as we push and pull, needing, wanting, and taking in equal measure.

We eventually break for air, and I smile at Brielle's mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and red cheeks. "Stay right there, beautiful," I tell her. "I'll warm up some breakfast. I made pancakes for us but didn't want to wake you up. They'll heat up quickly, so it'll just be a minute."

“I didn’t know you could cook,” my girl says, her blue eyes sparkling in wonder at this new piece of information. How does she make me feel so… special?

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” I say as I grab the plate of pancakes and stick them in the microwave. “Like that my three friends live up here in their own cabins.”

“You have friends?!” she exclaims, making me laugh.

“Well, at least two friends,” I say for some reason. I don’t mean to get into everything with Wilder, especially not on her first morning here. She’s already helped me through so much, I don’t want to just keep giving her my problems.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” I’m quick to say. “It’s… It’s another part of my story I’m not proud of. One that I haven’t fixed yet.”

Brielle opens her mouth, but before she can respond the microwave beeps. Thankful for the distraction, I take the pancakes out and grab some butter and syrup on the way back to the table. I spread everything out for her, then grab another mug and fill it with coffee, setting it down next to her plate.

“Thank you, Elliot,” she says, covering my hand with hers once I’m seated next to her again. “For offering your place, for taking care of me, just like you said you would. I can’t believe I slept for like thirteen hours.”

“You needed it.”

“I only had one bad night of sleep,” she says dismissively.

“Brielle,” I murmur. “We both know that’s not true.” Our eyes meet, and I recognize the heaviness, the bone-deep weariness I’ve been dealing with in my own life. We may come from completely different backgrounds, but our pain is similar. We’re trapped, living a life we never thought we would.

She nods, her eyes watering before she blinks her tears away. “You’re right,” she whispers.

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