Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Bed,” Eli said, echoing my thoughts. “I shouldn’t still be so wiped out, but—”
“It’s not just you,” I assured him. “You grab the plates. I’ll grab the water.”
“Works for me.” He rose, following me to the kitchen. The plates clattered in the sink. I grabbed four bottles of water, handing Eli one, tucking two under my arm, and opened the fourth, drinking as I walked. My eyes wanted to close, fatigue already weighing me down.
We crawled back in bed. Eli grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. I curled into him, my head on his chest, his arm holding me close, fingers tugging gently at the end of my braid. He settled on an action movie I’d seen years before, and I let out a hum of agreement.
My eyes were sliding shut before we got to the first commercial. By the time the detergent jingle ended, I was out. I surfaced later, my bladder demanding a trip to the bathroom, and slid back in bed, cuddling into Eli. His arms tightened around me in his sleep, his lips shaping my name on a soft exhale as they brushed the top of my head.
So many things pressed on us. We still hadn’t caught the bomber. We didn’t know what Ghost Trace was or where to find Silas. And all of that aside, I had my burned-out van to deal with, and my as-yet-unrecorded next season.
None of those worries kept me awake. I’d deal with the rest later. No, I was pretty sure we’d deal with the rest. Later.
I slipped back into sleep, content exactly where I was, wrapped in Eli’s arms.
Later came eventually. Another day of sleep and food, cuddling and watching old movies, before Miranda came in, scanned us, and declared we were allowed up and about—with a warning that at the first hint of a headache or fatigue we should go straight back to bed.
“Don’t be a hero and set back your healing,” she ordered, her gray eyes sharply assessing.
“Yes, ma’am,” Eli said with a wink.
She muttered something that sounded like pain in my ass and shook her head.
“Can I have my laptop?” I asked.
It wasn’t the first time she’d fielded that query from me. Finally, I got a quick grin instead of a somber shake of her head. “Yes, if you promise you’ll close it as soon as your head starts bothering you.”
I lifted a hand. “Scout’s honor. It only just stopped hurting. I have no intention of bringing that headache back.”
Miranda turned and disappeared down the hall, returning a moment later with my laptop.
“Take it easy,” she said, her eyes on Eli. “I mean it. I’ve got to get back downstairs. You can work, but stay out of the office for another day.”
“You guys made any headway?” Eli asked.
“On what?” Miranda asked with a wry twist to her lips. “The guy who tried to blow you up, Silas disappearing into thin air, or whatever the hell Ghost Trace is?”
“All of the above,” Eli said.
Miranda shook her head. “Maddox and Emmett are still digging, but they haven’t come up with much. Wren is hunting down Ghost Trace. I don’t think she’s found anything. She’ll be up later. You can ask her.”
“Are we cleared to leave the building?” Eli asked, one eyebrow raised.
“No,” Miranda said sharply. “Not yet.”
A muscle in the side of Eli’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue.
“Stay out of trouble,” Miranda ordered before turning to head down the hall.
Eli got out of bed and followed. He returned only moments after he left.
“Where’d you go?” I asked.
“Making sure the door was locked and we’re really alone.” He flipped back the covers and slid into bed, pulling my laptop from my hands.
“Hey, I just got that back.” My fingers closed tight, too late to keep hold of it.
“You can have it,” Eli said. “But not yet.”
At the look in his eyes, my brain disengaged from the idea of research, locking onto the heat in his gaze.
“Oh,” I said, a flush hitting my cheeks.
I caught a flash of Eli’s grin as his head dipped, his lips skimming across mine.
“I don’t know how long they’ll give us on our own. We should take advantage,” he said.
His lips slid along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to nuzzle my collarbone. I pulled at his T-shirt, and he sat up, stripping it off. I did the same with my nightshirt, tugging him down, loving the scrape of his chest hair against my nipples and the low growl in his throat as he hooked his hands in my underwear and tugged them over my hips, his long, hard body against mine. He was everything I wanted. Eli lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes hot with more than desire.
“When the bomb went off,” he said, “and half the wall came down, I thought you were dead. Your eyes were closed. You were bleeding. My ears were ringing. I couldn’t tell if you were breathing. I thought—”