Page 130 of Bulletproof

“Sunshine yourself,” I croaked out.

I was so happy to see him. I tried to reach for him, but nothing happened. My arms didn’t move.

He got up and came over to the bed and picked up the cup off the tray. “Here,” he said, moving the straw to my lips. “Have some water.”

I drank a little and then looked at him. My tears came instantly. “It’s so good to see you.”

He nodded, and I watched him swallow hard. He so obviously couldn’t speak.

“You look like crap,” I said, staring at him.

He leaned in and kissed me tenderly, lightly, one of his hands in mine, the other in my hair, stroking it gently over and over, pushing it back from my face. He looked down at me, and I saw how red-rimmed and raw his eyes were.

“I love you, Jory.”

I couldn’t see him because there were tears again, blurring my vision. He kissed my eyes, my cheeks, and then my lips. I parted them, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over mine. It was deliberately slow, tender, and arousing. I couldn’t hold in the moan.

“God, Jory,” he breathed out.

“Kiss me again.”

He kissed me again, slower, deeper, and I got my arm up around his shoulder to keep him there. He wrapped me in his arms as carefully as he could with the tubes and everything else in the way. He was so warm, and I let out a deep breath.

We stayed close for long minutes—me savoring his warmth and him, I thought, appreciating me being there.

When he pulled back, he wiped the tears from my cheeks with his fingers, cupping my face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s all my fault.”

I chuckled softly. “Your fault?” I smiled at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Yes, it is. I should have known Cristo Liron would send men to settle the score with you. I just … never in a million years would I have believed he cared so …” He trailed off, lost in thought, letting his hands fall away before he walked away from the bed, stalking across the room. “I should’ve flown here and just picked you up and gone home where—I never should’ve left you alone. Fuck!”

“Stop. You’re not psychic, and we deserved a vacation, Sam. Let it go.”

“I—”

“Come back.”

He moved quickly, grabbed the chair that had moved when he got up, and put it down right beside the bed. My hand was taken the second he was seated, and he bent and kissed my knuckles as he gently rubbed my thigh.

“Are those guys dead?”

He was lost in his own thoughts, but I needed him here with me instead of flaying himself for damage he had not done.

“Honey,” I called him, which I seldom ever did.

His eyes lifted to mine.

“Stop already. What’s done is done. We lived. Let’s celebrate. Kiss me again.”

He leaned forward, and I kept my eyes open longer than I normally did, so I saw his eyes dip closed, marveled at the tears beading on the long auburn lashes, and heard his sigh of happiness.

I loved him so much; it hurt sometimes.

His lips sealed to mine, but he didn’t push inside, instead pulling back fast.

“Ahhh,” I grumbled, “why?”

“You just woke up, and you need to rest. Just talk to me.”