Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“I love you,” she said.
I kept my eyes closed.
“I know you do, baby,” I replied.
“Do you love me?”
At that I opened my eyes and looked at Liza sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me.
“No. I love and adore you.”
She beamed a beautiful smile down at me.
“I know you do.”
This had become Liza’s morning ritual over the last eight weeks. It had started in the hospital when I was still heavily sedated. Every morning of the two weeks I’d spent in Nashville she’d woken me up by telling me she loved me. And it had continued when we got back to Georgia. At first it concerned me; I was worried she wasn’t dealing with the aftermath of the fire. Then Lenox explained to me what had happened with her mother. And I got it. She might’ve been forty, but for the first time in her life she was experiencing love.
There were worse ways of waking up than giving my woman what she needed to start her day.
On that thought, I was about to make her morning better.
“C’mere, Lizzy.”
“Coffee’s brewing.”
“C’mere.”
“We’re gonna be late.”
“Don’t care. C’mere.”
“And if Lauren asks, you didn’t see me gag when I tried the mushroom dirt she gave me.”
That made me smile. She didn’t only gag, she’d spit it out in the sink.
“Pretty sure it’s called mushroom tea, not mushroom dirt, and I’m not lying to Ren.”
Liza’s eyes went round. She pushed to her knees, plopped down on my chest, and begged, “Please. You have to take my back on this. I want her to like me.”
One hand went to her hip, the other went to the hank of hair that obscured her face, and secured it at her temple.
“She already likes you,” I reminded her.
“Okay, fine. I want her to continue to like me.”
“You know she doesn’t give a shit if you like the mushroom tea.”
“It’s dirt, Tucker. It tastes like turmeric-flavored dirt. It’s the grossest thing that has ever been on my tongue.”
Fuck, she was cute.
“How about I give you something else on your tongue to wash away the taste of turmeric-flavored dirt?”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“You gave me some of that last night.”
Yeah, I did.
The three weeks it had taken her back to heal had been torture. Three weeks knowing my woman was in pain because she’d used her body to shield mine while burning debris had landed on then singed her flesh had been worse than the pain of my injuries. It had taken three more weeks for my injuries to heal enough to move around without stabbing—no pun intended—pain. Another week after that to convince Liza my dick was not connected to my throat and it had not been injured the day Jake Sutton sank his blade and sliced my throat. Stupid fucker wasn’t even smart enough to kill me. Nor was he smart enough to know taking a major thoroughfare in the same vehicle you used to flee the scene of an attempted murder and arson would make it pretty damn easy for the Tennessee Highway Patrol to find you. Further from that, he proved he was stupider than the average stupid when his two pals turned on him in interrogation. Too stupid not to have associates who will sell you out, and too stupid to realize it’s never a good idea to brag about the murder you committed.
Jake Sutton was up shit’s creek—the ATF, DEA, FBI, and the state of Tennessee were all chomping at the bit with charges. They all wanted him. He was fucked. Mackenzie was doing her best to weasel out of criminal charges. Unfortunately, the footage from the neighbor showed Mackenzie leaving the house before Beatrice was murdered. Jake claims he killed her at Mackenzie’s demand. Mackenzie’s attorney claims that never happened.
He said, she said, with no proof on the ‘he said’ and no physical evidence tying Mackenzie to the drugs. It was likely she’d walk with her five-hundred-dollar an hour attorney working every slimy angle he could manage.
Liza shifted, the movement pulling me back to the present, reminding me the ban on sex had been lifted a week ago, and since then I’d put in a goodly amount of effort making up for lost time. But last night’s orgasm had worn off and I’d be negligent in my duties if I allowed my woman to go to work without a top-up.
I moved my hand resting on her hip down and around to cup her bare ass cheek.
“We’re gonna be late.”
I watched as Liza’s lips twitched.
“Swing your leg over.”
Like she’d done every time over the last week when I made a demand while in bed, she instantly complied. Before she settled on her knees astride me, I let go of her hair, allowing it to curtain around us. My hand went between her legs, and with a barely there graze over her clit, her hips jerked forward.
“Stay still for me, Lizzy.”
“You know I can’t.”
Yeah, I knew. The second I got my hands or mouth on her, her body reacted. It was hot as fuck and I loved she couldn’t keep still, but that didn’t mean I didn’t get off on ordering her to do so.
“Still, baby, I wanna play.”
My finger slid through her wet, dipped inside, then went back to her clit.
“Shirt off.”
She quickly divested herself of my tee. My gaze went to her tattoo. I took in the bleeding hearts, but paused on my canary. I fucking loved that tattoo, loved that she had me inked into her skin not even a week after she left me in Tucson and had kept me with her.
It didn’t take long before I got a breathy, impatient, “ Tucker .”
“Reach down and get me ready for you.”
She didn’t have much room, and when she couldn’t reach where she wanted with my fingers still toying with her clit, she smacked my hand out of the way to get to my dick.
“You think that’s funny?” she asked, coming up on her knees when she had me where she wanted.
I tried to quell my smile but she was just too damn cute.
“Nope.”
One side of her mouth hitched up, and one eye narrowed, and her brow pulled down. She looked like a drunken pirate who’d lost his eye patch.
The woman just couldn’t get any more fucking adorable.
Liza dropped down, taking my cock deep. My shoulders came off the pillow, my hand tightened on her ass, and my groan rumbled from my chest.
“Hmm,” Liza hummed. “Not so funny now is it, big guy.”
Big guy.
Christ, I loved her.
I knifed up and swallowed her laughter that turned into moans when I used her hips to move her up and down.
I broke the kiss when she started panting.
“I love you, Lizzy.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. She moved faster, riding me hard, reaching for her orgasm.
It wasn’t until I felt her pussy flutter and her eyes went hazy that she moaned, “I know you do.”
Yeah, she knew. Whatever happened with her mother in her hospital room broke something loose in Liza. Night and day difference.
“In you or on you, baby?”
“In me.”
I let go, letting her climax pull me under.
Tight. Slick. Heaven.
I was still swimming up from the euphoria when I felt Liza’s lips brush over the scar on my throat. Something she’d started doing after the bandages came off. Before that, a few times a day she’d rest her hand on my throat and she’d kiss my jaw. This was something else that concerned me. Lenox had guided me to understanding that when she’d found me, I was passed out, and Allyson had told him that Liza had thought I might be dead, but still she’d pulled my body up a flight of stairs. If she needed to touch the scar to remind herself I was alive, then I needed to let her have that, too.
Her waking me every morning telling me she loved me and asking if I loved her, and kissing my scar were the only two signs of what had happened that night. Other than that, she was fine. No nightmares. No post traumatic symptoms.
“You gonna shower with me or get coffee in you?”
“Coffee.”
Figured.
“Then hop off and let’s get a move on it.”
Her eyes turned into slits.
Right, sexy time was over.
She’d allow me to boss her when an orgasm was in her near future, but other times besides…not so much.
“Oh, no, you don’t go rushing me now that you’re worried about being late.”
I could give two shits if we were late.
But she was all about impressing her new bosses. Which, just to say, they were already impressed with her and it had nothing to do with her being prompt. Though she had to know this seeing as Jason, Nick, and Carter approached her with a job offer. Something they did tell me they were going to do. Liza did not consult me before she sat in the conference room with the three men and negotiated a deal with a starting pay package larger than mine.
I struggled with this. Not that her salary was higher than mine. My woman was skilled, she was competent, and she damn well deserved to be compensated for both. I was also proud she understood her worth and hadn’t settled for less than she knew she merited.
We argued about her accepting the job. I was of the mind she shouldn’t uproot her life, and explained I was more than happy to quit and move to Virginia to be with her. The argument took a turn when she told me how unhappy she was in Virginia. She hadn’t made a lot of friends there, she lived in an apartment she didn’t like much, was smack in the middle of a city she didn’t care much for, and the only thing tying her to her job was Shannon. She hated Frank, was burned out, and was looking for a new opportunity—which Nick, Jason, and Carter had presented her with. Bottom line, she wouldn’t be swayed. She’d accepted the job. Though she did compromise and agreed getting her own place would be a waste of time and money. We drove up to Virginia and packed her apartment—which wasn’t a great one. I was alarmed to learn she didn’t own much and what she did, she had no attachment to. So we sold all her furniture, packed her clothes and minimal personal items into my truck and her car, and brought them back to Georgia. It had taken her less than two hours to unpack—now she was home.
“Baby, I could sit here all day with you on my dick.”
Her eyes rolled to the ceiling.
“Is that a challenge?” I asked.
“No, you proved that true last Sunday.”
Making up for lost time.
Lizzy swung off me, rolled out of bed, and was on her feet when she asked, “Oatmeal or bagel?”
“Bagel.”
I laid back and watched my woman walk out of our room. I did this thinking I finally had everything. I glanced to my nightstand.
No, not everything, but close.
I had a mouth full of bagel when my phone on the counter next to Liza’s rang.
She was hip to the counter with a bowl of oatmeal.
Two coffee mugs next to our phones.
This, or a version of this was how we started our day.
My Liza, home, eating breakfast before work, drinking coffee.
This wasn’t normalcy or routine; it was a dream come true. Something I’d never take for granted. Ten years I’d waited for this. Ten years for the time to be right. Now, the time had finally come.
“It’s Crystal,” she announced.
I hid my smile behind my chewing and jerked my chin to the phone.
Liza rightly read my request to answer it, snatched up my cell, and answered.
“Morning, Crystal.” There was a pause but Liza was nodding. “Oh, no, is she okay?” Another pause, this one accompanied by a frown. “Poor little thing. I hope she feels better. And no worries, family first. Tomorrow’s fine but if you need to skip this week it’s no problem. I’m sure Tucker will live.”
I shook my head, thinking I wasn’t the person who had to live with our housekeeper not coming. It was Liza who was in fits of glee to learn she’d be moving into a house that came with a professional cleaning once a week. To say my woman had an aversion to vacuuming and dusting wouldn’t be too far from the truth. I didn’t mind doing either, but Crystal was a life saver.
“Again, not a problem, give that grandbaby all the snuggles.” She finished the call and turned to me. “Crystal’s granddaughter is sick. She’s going to her son and daughter-in-law’s to take care of her so she can’t come today.”
Family first.
Yeah, it was time.
I finished the last of my bagel, went to the sink to wash my hands, waited for Liza to rinse her bowl, waited longer to see if she was going to put it in the dishwasher or sink. The bowl landed in the sink just like I knew it would. I’d load it in the dishwasher when we got home. I had something more important to do and not a lot of time to do it.
I tagged Liza around the waist, turned her to face me, shifted again so I could grab her hand. My thumb grazed over the fake wedding ring she’d yet to take off. Mine had been removed when I went into surgery. It now sat in the tiny envelope the hospital had secured it in, waiting for the day Liza would slip it back on. The rings were cheap, gold-plated bands, no thought had been put into their purchase, nothing more than a prop.
When I didn’t move or say anything, Liza’s gaze turned searching.
“Everything okay?”
Beautiful hazel eyes—green with flecks of gold and brown stared up at me. I vaguely wondered if she’d give those eyes to our children. I not-so-vaguely hoped she would. Children we needed to hurry up and start making.
I slid her ring off her finger. The searching turned into alarm when I pocketed the fake ring. I felt around for the new one—the one I’d put a lot of thought into purchasing, the one that when I’d found it, I knew would be perfect for her, the one she’d wear for the rest of her life.
“Tucker?”
“You love me?”
“Uh, yeah.”
No fear.
She was long past that.
“Are you happy?”
She tilted her head to the side then answered, “Yeah.”
“Are you going to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Yes.”
I kissed her naked finger, pulled the ring out of my pocket, and finally—fucking finally—slid my ring onto her finger.
Her gaze dropped to her hand.
“That’s not…” She trailed off.
“Marry me, for real this time.”
Her eyes snapped to mine.
“Yes.”
Now, I had everything. Until she gave me our babies, then I’d have more.
But standing there in our kitchen, my Lizzy—my brave, smart, beautiful Liza, gave me every damn thing I could ever want.