Page 13 of After All

He felt one side of his mouth curl up. “Not sorry.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, well, now that I see you’re going to live through this, maybe I’ll head back out there. Seth was cute.”

The pain meds didn’t slow him down a bit when he grabbed her wrist. “No.”

She was clearly surprised by his touch too, but she didn’t pull away. “I gave a couple bags of blood, brought you more clothes and…” She coughed. “What more do you want?”

“You.” That was always the answer.

Peyton shook her head. “Still pushing with a bullet in your leg and major doses of morphine pumping through you?”

“They took the bullet out,” he said. “And yeah. Always.” So he was feeling a little sappy. It was the drugs. And the fact that she’d flown back from Baltimore. And that she was here. So what? He still meant every word.

Emotion flickered in her eyes at his answer. “The morphine is making you loopy,” she said.

He glanced up at the plastic bag dripping overhead. “It’s morphine?”

“Yeah. That’s what the nurse said when I asked.”

Scott focused on her again. “You asked?”

Peyton frowned, as if he’d caught her doing something she didn’t want him to know about. “I needed to know how goofy you might be when you woke up.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I need to borrow some money.”

He shifted on the mattress. He didn’t like this position at all. He loved her concern, but he felt pretty damned vulnerable right now. He felt as if his thoughts were slogging through thick mud to get to his mouth. He couldn’t move without his leg protesting, and he was in only a hospital gown. As he became more coherent, he also became more and more aware that he was definitely not at his best or strongest. Best and strongest were required for handling Peyton Wells.

“You can have as much as you want,” he told her.

She frowned. “Maybe I need to borrow your car.”

“Take it.”

“Maybe I want to take advantage of you.”

She leaned closer and Scott took a big breath of her sweet-and-spicy scent. His body stirred, as usual, and then he shook his head, as usual. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she asked, that not-quite-teasing gleam in her eye. “You know better.”

Scott knew that Peyton wanted him. Everyone knew that. Peyton wasn’t great at hiding her feelings—good, bad, and everything in between. And she hadn’t done one thing to hide how she felt about Scott, from him or anyone else.

But she didn’t want dinners and movies and holding hands at hometown football games and parties with their friends at the river, and all of the other things couples did together. And that’s why he kept turning her down for the hot sex she offered on a regular basis. And he might be the only person on the planet as stubborn as she was.

Except of course for St. Patrick’s Day. But that had been a huge mistake. He never should have given in. For one thing, Peyton thought she’d won. For another, he hadn’t been…his best. Jesus, he hated thinking about St. Patrick’s Day.

“Of course, I really do like it when you can fully participate,” she said.

He saw the heat in her eyes and knew that she was remembering the times that she’d worn him down. St. Patrick’s Day might have been the first and only actual sex they’d had, but she’d gotten some kissing and some well-placed stroking over the years in some of his weaker moments.

Yeah, so, he hadn’t been able to completely keep her at arm’s length. She was persistent. And sexy as hell. And the woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anyone else in his life.

“So, fine. I don’t need anything,” she said. “I just came to check on you.”

He still held her wrist, so when she tried to straighten, she couldn’t get too far away. He tugged and she leaned in again. “You came to check on me from Baltimore?”

She nodded.

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