Page 69 of Drive To Survive

“Don’t cry, Mommy,” he said, rubbing his tiny palm over my face. He frowned at the makeshift dressing, then touched it. “What happened?”

“Nothing, baby,” I sobbed. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” A small frown appeared between his eyebrows as if he were completely unaware of the hysteria surrounding his disappearance. “Daddy bought pizza, but it wasn’t one of my favorites. And he said we couldn’t have ice cream because it’d melt.”

I almost collapsed with relief. “We’ll get you ice cream. As much as you want.”

“Really?” He grinned broadly, his smile stretching further when Nico appeared beside me. “Nico!”

“Hey, buddy.” Nico picked him up and swung him into his arms. “I need a big favor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I need you to help me persuade your mum to go to the hospital. She bumped her head, but she wouldn’t go without you.”

Rhett canted his head. “Mommy! You said it was nothing.”

I laughed, despite the thumping headache. Getting a scolding from a six-year-old was pretty funny. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Good,” Rhett said. “Hmm, I wonder if they have ice cream at the hospital.”

As the three of us headed back toward Nico’s car, I glanced over at Paul being put in the back of a cop car. He caught my eye and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

I turned away. If he was hoping for forgiveness, he’d come to the wrong place. Even though Rhett seemed completely unharmed, I’d never forgive Paul for putting me through hell for the past seven hours.

The doctor at the hospital examined my injury and he sent me for a bunch of tests. An hour later, he pronounced a minor concussion, as well as needing four stitches to close the cut on my head. He also insisted I stay overnight for observation, just to be on the safe side. Nico wanted to stay with me, but I persuaded him to take Rhett back to his place. Sleeping in a hospital chair was fine for an adult, but Rhett needed a good night’s sleep.

The following morning, the doctor said I was well enough to go home, although he prescribed bed rest for a couple of days. After the horror of the past twenty-four hours, an excuse to lounge around in bed without feeling guilty sounded like heaven.

Or so I thought.

“If you plump that pillow one more time, I will seriously lose my shit,” I said to Nico after he’d fussed around me for thirty-six hours straight. “I’m fully recovered.”

“You have a concussion, Everly.”

“I’m aware.” I slid my tongue over my bottom lip, drawing his eye. “I’m also suffering from no-sex-itis, which is far more dangerous for my health.”

“Everly,” he groaned. “Stop.”

I threw back the covers. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What…? When…?”

“Why, who, how?” I grinned. “I had a feeling you’d fight me, so I thought a little motivation might be in order. I changed while you were putting Rhett to bed.”

The hunger in Nico’s eyes as he ran his gaze over the claret-red, barely there nightdress I’d slipped into almost made me come.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, but the certainty had left his voice, leaving behind a husky rumble filled with want.

“The only way you’ll hurt me is if you walk out and leave me unsatisfied.” I ran a fingertip up his jean-clad thigh, then cupped the growing bulge in his groin. “What’s it going to be, lover boy?”

“Fuck, woman,” he ground out.

I grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

If a world record attempt existed for removing clothes, Nico would smash it out of the park. Standing gloriously naked before me, he yanked the covers off the bed, then caged me with his body.

“If you feel even slightly unwell or dizzy, you’ll tell me to stop, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Buzzkill, Palmer. Total buzzkill.”

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