Page 247 of Smooth Sailing

Until then, when they realized the man who formed that cornerstone did it so strong, it’d never crumble.

And they realized the man who set it would always be part of the very foundation of the beauty that was built on top of it.

Because, when Chaos hit their next time, with Peter Waite’s support, grit and guidance, they got it right.

In Hugger’s room at the Compound, I left the bathroom after cleaning up.

Hugger and I had just made love.

It wasn’t that we never did it that way, we did. Though it was rare. We preferred to get physical, raunchy, rough, intense.

But that night, he took his beautiful, sweet time with my body, I did the same with his, and in this moment, at the end of this dreadful day, it was perfect.

Hugger’s room at the Compound, I’d noticed the time before, and again right then, was clean and tidy, like he always was everywhere.

He’d been so conditioned to take care of the little he had, even when he had more, he did the same.

The week before, I’d considered it a minor triumph when he left his clothes on the floor of our bedroom, rather than what he normally did, gathering them up and putting them in the laundry hamper, when he had an early meeting with Buck about the properties they were looking at.

I was maybe the only woman on the planet who wanted her man to loosen up when it came to keeping their place tight.

But in the end, if he didn’t, he didn’t.

I’d take him any way he came.

When I got close, Hugger lifted the bedclothes that were covering him from the waist down, so I could enter the bed, something I did, finding my place right on top of him.

When I settled in, he traced his big hands up my back and said softly, “Why am I the only guy existing who’s considering going back to condoms, so my baby doesn’t have to haul her ass to the bathroom after sex?”

Okay, okay, okay.

Oh-freaking-ficial.

I so totally loved this man.

“Deal, from here on, I clean you up,” he continued.

“Deal,” I agreed.

His eyes moved to the side and back to me. “Your phone’s been goin’, baby.”

I’d heard it, vaguely, during sex, but obviously only very vaguely.

I sighed, reached out to nab it, thumbed it and showed it my face, then scanned the texts.

I put it back on his nightstand and turned to him.

“Texts from Bernie, Charlie and Mel. Also Gerard. And shocker, Annie remembered too. They want me to tell you different versions of you and your family are in their thoughts.”

“Sweet. Tell ’em thanks,” he muttered.

“Will do,” I replied and stroked his beard. “How are you hanging in?”

“Feel absolute shit…and totally great.”

I didn’t get that, but I stayed silent and let him do what I knew he’d do.

Give it to me.

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