- Pen -
Sharpe pulls upin front of our cabin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have even gone to the doctor with me.”
“But I’m glad I did.” He touches the bandage on the back of my neck. “Make sure you change the dressing in an hour.”
I grimace at the reminder. Sharpe was right about the bee sting being infected, and the doctor had lanced it to drain out the fluid buildup before smothering it in antibacterial cream.
After seeing what he threw into the contamination bin, I think I’d rather go through another resurrection than go through this again.
“You were right, and I was wrong.” I arch my brow. “Happy?”
“A little.” He glances at the front door through the passenger window. “I can walk you inside and get you settled.”
“Stop worrying.” I lean across the console to kiss his cheek, and his five o’clock shadow scrapes my lips. “You’re going to be late for your meeting.”
His frown forms beneath my kiss. “It won’t be much of a prep meeting. We don’t have any news to reassure the public.”
“I’m sure your boss will have a way to spin it that shines him in a good light, and in turn, makes you look good. If Flint finds anything at the Library, one of us will send a text.” I grasp the handle and push my door open. “Don’t speed too much on your way back, Captain.”
“Hey.” He grabs the back of my jacket to stop me from leaving the car and holds out the paper pharmacy bag. “Eat and then take your medicine.”
“Yes, sir.” I accept the bag and slide out of the car. “Drive safe.”
He purses his lips. “No promises.”
Knowing he won’t leave until I’m inside, I close the door and stride to the cabin. I punch in the code for the lock pad and turn back to wave before stepping into the foyer.
The lights on in the hall alert me that I’m not alone, and I raise my voice. “Flint, are you already done with the Library?”
When no one answers, I kick off my shoes, then walk to the hall to investigate.
Light spills from under the closed bathroom door, and I frown. If Flint’s back already, shouldn’t he have contacted me or Sharpe, even if he didn’t find anything?
Just to be sure, I check my phone but find no new messages.
I push open the door, and steam rolls out. Fire dances in the fireplace, adding heat to the humid space. “Flint? Did you find—”
My breath catches, cutting off the words as my eyes feast on the man standing beneath the waterfall showerhead.
Water streams over Marc’s large, sculpted body, caressing the hard ridges of muscle over his pecs and dancing down his defined six-pack before narrowing into a hungry stream over the tight thatch of dark curls between his legs and his heavy cock.
He reaches up with both hands to push back his wet hair, and burning eyes meet mine.
The fire in his gaze pulls me forward, the promise of heat greater than what can be found in the flickering flames of the fireplace.
Water soaks into my socks as I step into the shower area, and steam fills my lungs with each rapid breath.
Hot water comes with a welcome shock against my cold skin, soaking my clothes and molding them against my body.
I stop in front of Marc. “You’re home.”
“I’m home.” He cups my cheeks, his palms fever-hot against my chilly skin. “Sorry it took so long.”
Pulse stuttering, I nuzzle into his warm hold. “How long will you be here this time?”
He hesitates for a moment. “I’m not sure. It’s...hard.”