Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Mason had never been on bedrest before, but he could say with one hundred percent certainty that he hated it. Though he had to admit that being bored beat bleeding out.
He lay propped against too many pillows, shoulder bandaged. The dull throb of the wound was a drumbeat he could tune out when he focused on the important things.
Like the way the room smelled subtly different now—like Elin’s shampoo on his pillow and the faint citrus of her hand cream on the nightstand. Not to mention the ghost of dark coffee because she refused to work without a mug within reach.
She’d set up the corner of his room as a mini office, with laptop and a half-dozen cables running in one neat bundle. It looked as if she’d always planned to take over his space.
He fucking loved it.
“Stop pretending to sleep,” she murmured without looking up, fingers gliding over the keys.
“I was pretending to be good. Entirely different.”
Her sweet lips tugged into a smile she tried to hide. She stood and closed the distance between her desk and his bed, and it was impossible not to note the way her long cardigan opened in the center to reveal the twitch of her curves.
She leaned in to adjust his pillows, the action so intimate that it made it hard to swallow the lump forming in his throat. If he reached for water, his hand could accidentally land on her hip and draw her down on the bed with him.
But he didn’t do that because she reached for it first. Early in his days of recovery, he’d been tended by medics, Dr. Patir and his teammates. But being fussed over by Elin felt like being claimed.
The base moved around them with a quieter hum than usual. He still picked up the sounds—the footsteps in the hall, a scrape of a chair below.
Every so often, laughter drifted up from the kitchen, the deeper voices of his brothers-in-arms mingled with the women who kept the base warm and alive.
He had to admit that he was starting to feel like the women—Sophie, May, Alyssa, Kennedy and Izzy—were his new sisters-in-law. Especially since they’d been taking turns simmering pots of soup for him that Elin poured down his throat.
Elin’s warm gaze loomed close to his. “How are you feeling?”
“Ready to get up.”
She didn’t look away. “Dr. Patir said a week of bedrest.”
“I’ll give you bedrest.” He slipped a hand around her nape, tugging her close enough to catch her mouth with his. The first brush was unhurried and deep. The kind of kiss that made time stop and wait its turn.
She purred softly against his lips, a sound that arrowed straight through his restraint. He slipped his hand into her hair, careful of his shoulder, and drew her down with him.
She braced a knee on the mattress and placed a palm on his thigh so she wouldn’t jar him as their tongues tangled in an endless torment.
Breaking away, he murmured, “When we were in that chopper, all I could think about was joining the mile-high club with you.”
Her eyes blinked open, and she sucked in a gasp. “You weren’t!”
“Maybe not then, but I’ll work on the arrangements.” He kissed her again, because now that he could, he didn’t want to stop.
She shifted closer. When she moved her palm up his thigh to brace her weight, her fingers found his stiff cock through the sheet.
A rough groan ripped out of his chest. Heedless of his shoulder or doctor’s orders, he grabbed her and pulled her down next to him. Twisting hurt, but he didn’t care about anything beyond loving this woman.
“Liam!”
He flattened her palm over his rigid length. “See? Fully operational.”
Her laugh faded into breathlessness, and pink roses bloomed in her cheeks. Gently, she eased back. “You need to heal.”
“My shoulder isn’t my best part.” He arched a brow in challenge.
She leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Just then a knock broke the moment. Elin scrambled off the bed and was sitting primly on the side—but still blushing—when Sinner shouldered his way through the door like a one-man parade.
A tray with a fresh pizza was balanced on one hand as he swaggered in. “Special delivery for the invalid.”
Elin issued a sigh that sounded as if she was suffering. “If that’s pineapple, I’m leaving.”
“Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza or in civilization,” Mason declared.
Sinner chuckled as he approached the bed, holding out the tray for them to see the square pizza. Pepperoni gleamed in the shape of a giant Z that crossed the whole pie.
Mason tipped his head. “What’s the Z for?”
Sinner didn’t blink. “Z for Zaddy, man. The ladies voted.”
Elin tossed her head on a laugh, music to Mason’s long-starved soul.
Sinner plunked the tray on the nightstand. Then he sniffed the room in an exaggerated manner. “Smells like antiseptic, pizza and questionable decisions.”
“Get out,” Elin cooed sweetly, already reaching for one of the paper plates.
Sinner left with as much swagger as he’d entered. Mason shook his head, laughing at his teammate’s antics. He had to admit Sinner was good for morale.
Next Con stuck his head in, taking in the scene with an unreadable expression. “No grease on the pillows,” he said before ducking out again. But Mason had seen him drag men out of fire with less concern in his eyes—and it tightened a cord behind his ribs.
Dante popped in next with a deck of cards he tossed on the bed for when he got bored. Then Alyssa brought some tea that Kennedy brewed for her when her stomach was unsettled.
After the room finally cleared, Mason watched Elin out of the corner of his eye as she ate. She stretched out with her ankles crossed. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, just begging for his fingers.
When she caught him looking, her eyes softened in a way that made him want to dive into their depths and never surface.
“You’re perfect.”
She straightened at his statement, surprise glimmering in her eyes.
He reached for her again, not giving a damn about his shoulder as he claimed her lips.
What began as a tender brush of their mouths quickly turned into hot, all-consuming passion. Her hand slid across his thigh again with purpose this time. She closed her fingers around his stiff length, dragging a growl from him.
She twisted her lips from his. “Are you still bored?”
“I’m bored in the best way. I could get used to his.”
“This?” She tightened her hand on his cock and give it a slow stroke.
He let out a groan. “God, I love you.”
She stilled, eyes flicking up to his. “I love you, Liam. More than anything.”
The words felt different than any of the other times they’d whispered it to each other in the week since they confessed to their feelings. It felt like an explosion.
He dragged her head down to his chest, holding her close, breathing in the warm spice of her that was exclusively Elin.
He didn’t want temporary. Not a night, not a week, not “until your contract is up.” He wanted her here.
He wanted toothbrushes crammed in his cup on the sink and stupid fights about who stole the last towel. He wanted to come off an op and find her asleep in his shirt.
He wasn’t waiting to say it either.
“Elin?”
She answered with a contented hum.
“I want you here. With me. Indefinitely.”
She stilled for two heartbeats, then three. She pushed up on one elbow so she could see his face. “You’re sure?”
“I want you to stay. Forever.”
Her eyelids fluttered, but they didn’t conceal her emotion from him. The smile began at the corner of her mouth and spread over her beautiful face like rays of sun touching the earth at dawn.
“I never want to leave you. Wherever you are, I want to be there.”
He held her, and she cuddled closer, tracing idle patterns over his chest. What she probably didn’t know yet was that she was rewriting the scars into something that spelled home.
His entire world clicked into place.
* * * * *
Steam feathered off the hot tub and blurred the string of patio lights into soft halos, the night wrapped around the base in quiet that felt almost like peace.
Elin sank to her shoulders, letting the heat unknot all the places stress had taken up residence. She’d left her bathing top on tonight, more aware now of her error when she first arrived.
Across from her, Liam stretched his arms along the back of the hot tub, wincing only a little.
The scars were still new, pale against tanned skin where the water didn’t cover him, but the worst of the pain had receded to memory.
He looked like himself again—eyes steady, mouth with that stubborn hook at one corner, and the quiet command of a man who’d spent his life holding a line.
Ash emerged from the nearby swimming pool, water streaming off him as he grabbed a towel.
He lifted his chin at Liam. “The guys invited me to poker down in the casino. Apparently, I’ve been drafted to lose all my cash to Steele’s terrible bluff.”
Liam’s laugh rumbled warmly in the night. “Steele’s tells are a crime. You’ll do fine. But it’s Izzy you gotta watch out for.”
“I’ll stay on alert.” Ash grinned, a rare occurrence Elin was still getting used to. It also warmed her heart. Liam had shared with her a little of Ash’s troubles fitting in on the team, and the fact that they invited him sounded like a step forward.
He slung the towel around his neck. “They probably only invited me to join them so they can rob me blind.”
Liam’s lips tightened. “No,” he said quietly. “Pretty sure it’s because of what you did for me after you got me in that chopper. They had to respect you after you patched me up. We all did.”
Elin reached for Liam’s hand under the water and squeezed. Her thumb found the solid ridge of his knuckles and pressed, a Morse code of everything they didn’t say in mixed company.
You’re here. You’re whole. You’re mine.
Ash caught the look and ducked his head like it was too bright to stare into directly. “Right. Well. Casino’s calling. Try not to drown in there.”
“Bring back good stories,” Elin said.
“Or at least chips,” Liam added.