Chapter 15 #2
He was jumping out of his skin, or so it seemed like to him.
He certainly could not sit still and the really bad coffee his grandparents were forcing on him was declined.
He wanted to hear what was happening. He had been in the middle of helping with the training of a very spirited stallion when he received the call.
At first he could not understand why a strange male voice was using Allison's phone and then it had gotten through to him.
He had time to inform his grandparents and without waiting for them to accompany him, he had broken every speed limit to get to the hospital.
The irony was lost on him. He who had been so careful to observe the rules only this morning had not cared one damn if he broke them all. He just had to get to her.
Now he had been here for the past half an hour and still nothing. The police had come to let them know the woman had been caught fleeing the scene and had confessed. She blamed Allison for losing the child she had never cared about in the first place.
That did not matter to him. All he wanted was to make certain she was going to be fine.
"Darling, won't you sit?" Elizabeth walked over to him and touched his arm lightly. The agonized expression on his face was tugging at her heart.
"I cannot. I just—" They turned in unison when the doctor came into the room.
"How is she?" he demanded abruptly.
"She's concussed and should stay here for a day or two.
There is no internal bleeding, which is thankful, and both mother and fetus are doing well.
" The man's light blue eyes twinkled. "She's asking for you and demanding to be allowed to go home.
Hopefully you can persuade her it would be in her best interest to stay even for the night. "
"I will certainly do my best." Dimitri turned to his grandparents.
"Tell her we will see her when she gets home," Elizabeth told him warmly. "No doubt you want to stay with her."
"Of course."
*****
"You look like hell," were the first words out of her mouth when he burst into the room.
When her comment did not make him laugh, she realized how shaken up he had been. Lifting a hand, she curled her fingers around his as soon as he came to sit on the bed.
"Don't—" He had to swallow the lump that was lodged firmly inside his throat.
"You are never to do that to me again." His accent had thickened, until the words were running over each other.
"I died." He muttered something else in Russian as he gripped her fingers and took in the bandage that looked so stark against her coloring.
"It seems I cannot let you out of my sight. "
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shaken by the stark look of terror on his handsome face. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry." Toeing off his boots, he slid in next to her and buried his face against her neck. He had to touch her, to smell her in order to assure himself that she was right here and alive. "Just don't go away. I cannot lose you. I will not."
When she wrapped her arms around him, it was to discover he was shaking.
"Dimitri, I'm sorry."
Holding her tight, he closed his eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks.
*****
"A week." His mouth was thinned in determination, and she knew with a sinking heart that she was not about to move him. His grandparents had suggested they move into the farmhouse temporarily while she was recovering.
"The doctors cleared me to go back in three days." She turned to Elizabeth for support, but the woman just shook her head.
Sighing softly, she swung her gaze back to the man who was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had been discharged two days ago, and he was still hovering. When he had to go out and attend to his chores, there was a maid ready to do her bidding. It was frustrating.
"I have work to do." She tried reasoning with him, but it was like talking to a block of stone. He was unmovable. "I will be off for three whole weeks when we go to Russia for our honeymoon. I feel fine—" She reached for his hand. "I'm going crazy with nothing to do."
Picking up the remote with his free hand, he switched on the television.
"I'm not one for daytime soaps."
"You will learn. Or read a book."
"You're being a pain."
"And will continue to be one. A week and that's final."
"Who the hell made you boss over me?"
Realizing the argument was about to heat up, Elizabeth wisely stepped out of the bedroom and closed the doors behind her.
Left alone in the quiet of the room, the tension between them seemed almost palpable.
The sunlight filtering in through the curtains cast shifting patterns across the bedspread, but neither of them noticed.
With every stubborn word exchanged, the weight of recent events hung over them, unspoken but ever-present.
Still, beneath his sternness, she could see the worry etched into every line of his face.
She felt both touched and frustrated by his relentless protectiveness.
Without another word, he reached over and grabbed hold of her robe, hauling her forward. Even in his anger, he was careful, making certain he was not jarring her head where she was still bruised.
"I am in love with you." His accent had thickened as it tended to do whenever he was emotional.
"You're my life. My very heart. When I think I almost lost you, that I could have received a different call, I break out in cold sweat.
" His eyes glittered. "You're staying the week in bed, or I will strap you down myself. Is that clear?"
She was shaken by the look of torment on his face. He hadn't touched her since she had been home. Other than the burst of emotions when he came into her hospital room, he had remained aloof as if he was holding to his composure by a thread. Now it was threatening to unravel.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes."
"Good." Lowering his forehead to hers, he gulped in several deep breaths. "I won't lose you. I've waited my entire life to find you, and I won't have you snatched away from me."
Her arms came around his broad shoulders and she held him close. He was shaking, she thought in wonder. This strong, powerful man was trembling.
"Baby, I'm here," she whispered soothingly, running her hands up and down his back. "I'm not going anywhere."
That night, he made love to her with a tenderness that had her in tears.
Slowly undressing her, he kissed every inch of her face and her throat before taking off his clothes. Sliding into bed, he turned her towards him, fingers wandering over her face and lingering on the bruise at her temple.
"It doesn't hurt," she quickly assured him. "I'm fine."
Instead of answering, he nodded. She felt her breath hitch when he bent his head and touched his lips there as if to take away the evidence of what she had gone through.
When his lips found hers, she turned into his arms, aching to feel him inside her.
"Not yet," he murmured. His hands drifted down her back, gently kneading the silky skin.
He wanted to assure himself that she was right here with him.
He needed that assurance. The scent of her bath gel, the fragrance of the perfume she had spritzed on just before donning the silk robe, tickled his nostrils and tantalized his senses.
He could never get enough of her. The more he had, the more he wanted.
He had stayed away for three whole days, not daring to touch her.
Even now, he wanted to tear her apart. He had to force himself to slow down.
Her skin had the texture of silk. His lips knew and identified every part of her body.
He knew her scent, the irresistible scent of his mate.
He knew where she was most vulnerable, what set her off.
His tongue dipped into the hollow of her navel, while his fingers probed and slid over her quivering belly.
His baby was nestling deep inside her womb.
The thought of it sent emotions hurtling through him at a pace that had his insides trembling.
He would kill for her, he mused. Would step in front of a bullet for her.
Allison felt as if she was floating. No, she thought hazily. She was flying with no safety net to catch her. When he touched his mouth to her swollen flesh she wondered how it was that she was still alive. She was so feverishly hot, she could hardly bear it.
His tongue tantalized and teased. And slipped into her with an ease that had her erupting.
The climax was draining and took everything from her.
By the time he had covered her body with his, she was sobbing, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
She reached for him blindly, burying her face in his neck, her hands clamping around him.
He sank into her wet warmth and went still, his body shuddering.
Cupping the back of her head, he nudged her away, so he could look at her face. Her eyelids were spiky with tears, her lips trembling.
"It's too much," she told him huskily. "I can't."
"I know," he murmured something in Russian, lips brushing over her cheeks and tasting her tears. "I love you darling." He moved slowly, sliding into her with a care that wrenched at her heart.
"I love you too. I never knew—" She closed her eyes and could not get the rest of the sentence out. But he understood and felt his heart swelling. There was no need to worry about ghosts from her past. The guy had been exorcised.
She went up again, her body vibrating as the climax hit her, slamming into her with the force of lightning and leaving her trembling.
He was right behind her, the control he had been so careful to hold onto shredding away.
His body went taut for a second before plunging inside her with a force that shoved her against the headboard.
He vaguely wondered if he was hurting her but could not control it as he poured himself into her until he was empty.
It took him a few minutes to realize he was crushing her. Detaching himself, he slid to the side. His arms came around her to hold her there as he fought to steady his breathing.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked gruffly a few minutes later.
"I'll let you know when I can actually feel anything," she murmured into his chest.
"We should get some sleep," he suggested.
"Not just yet." When her hand drifted downwards, he realized to his astonishment that he was far from through with her.