Page 32 of Lyon

“Max, stop worrying about me. I promise I won’t let him talk me out of quitting my job,” I said with a rueful smile. “I must look pretty bad—it's been three days.”

“You haven’t seen yourself?” he asked.

“No, but now that my eyes are open again, I can see everyone’s reaction when they look at me.”

“Are you saying your eyes were swollen shut?”

“Yes, and my jawbone is cracked. It hurts to talk for any length of time. I was hit in the face every time he saw me. But he’s dead, and I’m done with that life. How are you holding up?”

“I’m good. It feels so nice to be home again,” Max replied.

“Did you talk to Olivia?” I asked.

Max sighed. “Yes. I don’t blame Olly for getting married. She thought I was dead, but she waited three years—our love was so strong, it’s still strong. Now, she has a baby and a husband. I left Oregon because being so close to her was too tempting, and it was hard for both of us.”

“I’m sorry she went through that,” I murmured. “I know how much you two loved each other. Olly nearly died from a brokenheart; she was in the hospital for weeks. I told her I didn’t believe you were dead—she was so excited, I felt terrible about that. But after a while, she stopped believing you were alive.”

Max’s voice softened. “I hate that she suffered. My love for her will never die. Her husband even begged me not to take her away from him and their child. That’s why I left Oregon. I’m moving to Montana. I bought a nine-bedroom, ten-bathroom bed and breakfast for myself and anyone who wants to join. It’s on a mountain called Fraiser’s Mountain. It’ll take time to get it running, but the Band of Navy Seals promised to help me get started when I’m ready.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said, genuinely excited for him. “Is the bed and breakfast furnished?”

“Completely. I’ve already moved all my things there. The master bedroom even has a small living area attached, and I’ve claimed that space for myself.”

My head ached terribly at this point, so I closed my eyes, willing the pain away as sleep overtook me. When I woke again, Lyon was in the chair, absorbed in a book—a reminder of one of his quirks, his love of reading. Brutus was sleeping on the floor in front of the window. I noticed once in his bag a collection of books spanning different genres. I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t move; they were still swollen.

“Hi,” he said, standing up and moving his chair closer.

“Hi,” I managed.

“Max said he’d be back later. He told me about his plans—they sound exciting,” Lyon continued, a grin tugging at his lips. “I mentioned a bit about the Golden Team, and he said he’d have to come up with a good name for his new business. River wanted to call us the Best Of The Best,” he grinned.

I actually managed to chuckle, remembering River’s repeated claim on our first meeting that they were “the best ofthe best.” You are the best of the best, I teased, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be away on a mission?”

Lyon grinned. “I leave tomorrow, but it’s only for a few days. Then I’ll take some time off work. Please, come home with me when you’re released. Your mom might argue that you’re going home with them, but just tell her you’re coming home with me. What do you say?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you think I need someone to take care of me? I should be fine on my own.”

Leaning down, Lyon pressed his lips to my fingers. “Sweetheart, have you looked at your fingers? Both your arms are in casts.” I glanced down and saw my swollen, injured fingers—reminders of how he had pulled them out of their sockets. The pain had been unbearable, and I had passed out. He’d waited until I came to before continuing.

“That was excruciating,” I whispered. Lyon kissed my fingers again.

“Will you kiss my pain away if I go home with you?” I whispered.

“Every chance I get,” he replied.

“Then yes, I’ll go home with you. But I’m going to need a nurse to come for an hour each day to help me with... other things.”

Lyon arched an eyebrow. “What other things?”

“My shower, for one,” I answered.

A mischievous smile spread across his face. “I can give you a shower. I’m looking forward to showering you.”

“Are you telling me this to get me hot? Because if you are, it’s working. I might be broken right now, but every sense is on fire, and I can’t wait for you to help me with my shower. I want your hands to soap every inch of me.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll shock everyone on this floor and put you in the shower right now,” he warned playfully. “I’ll have you crying out for more, leaving them all in awe.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even as the pain in my face reminded me of my injuries. Despite everything, I yearned for his touch—wanted to feel his hands on me, sending shivers of pleasure through my battered body. The heat rising within me was undeniable, I wanted to feel his hands on me, giving me an orgasm. I felt my panties getting wet. Wait, I don’t have any panties on.

---