Page 82 of Trucker
Baby?
Sighing, I held my breath to steady my firing thoughts until reality flooded in on me. I’d bought lingerie and was going home to prepare a surprise for?—
Wait, the voice called me baby.
For a moment, all my mind was filled with was fog. It was as if clawing my way through a jungle covered in a shroud of grey.
Slowly, that fog cleared.
Yes, I was heading home to prepare for Mayson Calhoune—the one man who’d managed to restore my faith in the men of the world. He’d held me, soothed me, turned me into a perfect little slut with his hands and his mouth.
Then, instead of feeling shame, all I wanted to do was stay in his arms and do all the dirty little things over and over?—
I couldn’t catch my breath due to the excitement.
He was the only man I wanted to show that side of me, the only man I wanted to give that part of me to.
Yes—I’m his baby.
That thought excited me causing the beeps around me to quicken but not enough to cause concern.
Exhaling slowly, I opened my eyes and looked up into his worried gaze. It broke my heart seeing that pain in him.
Desperately, I smiled at him, and he exhaled as if he hadn’t done so in years. While I wanted to touch his face, get him closer to me, feel his kiss, I couldn’t move my hands all that much. Frustrated, I looked down to see I had an IV in my arm and pain floated through me.
Trucker tenderly rained kisses against my forehead, between my eyes, the tip of my nose.
“Those beautiful eyes.” Trucker’s voice broke. “You have no idea how good it is to see those eyes.”
I couldn’t seem to form words.
“I thought I’d never see you again.” His whispered.
How can that be? I like you—a lot.
Trucker pressed his face into my neck, and I lifted one arm as best as I could.
The arm that wasn’t pulsing, I used it to hold the back of his head, keeping him against me.
“I’m still standing.” I managed. “More or less.”
Trucker sat back on the chair and drew it up so he could look into my face. He caressed my cheek gently, then held my hand.
“How are you feeling?” Trucker asked. “Your doctor said you declined the heavy stuff.”
I smiled at him.
“I’m in a little bit of pain.” I admitted. “But not so much that I need the heavy stuff. I’ll be fine—eventually.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“You’re doing it—you’re here.”
“There has to be something else.” Trucker smoothed a palm over my forehead.
“I’m okay. I promise.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” Trucker asked.
