The Promise of Love (28 page)

“True.” He stood, drawing her up after him. “I got to see every inch of that pretty pussy this morning, so I’m guessing as long as you liked it, I liked it. But maybe next time we do the marathon, we hold off on the eighth or ninth round? My cock is rubbed raw.”

She blinked, opened her mouth, shut it, then blinked again. “Are you teasing me?”

He reached down and adjusted his soldier. “Not really. Or we use some lube. They make this body butter. It’s flavored—”

“David,” she laughed, and covered his mouth with both hands, he guessed in case he tried to shout through only one. “Don’t talk for a bit, okay?”

He nodded and kissed her fingers. He wasn’t rubbed raw, in fact he had a tingling sensation all along his dick, a little reminder of how damn perfect and soft Paris was around his erection. He hoped it stayed there all day until he could be inside her again. In fact, she’d whispered just that when she’d thrilled the hell out of him by waking him up for more.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked.

Nodding wasn’t going to work, so he pulled free and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was wearing a sundress and blue jean jacket today. The pendant was settled snugly between her breasts, right where he’d been most of the night. He licked his lips and got a hint of her flavor on his tongue.

“We’re ready, I just have to lock up and show you where the spare key ring is in the truck. I also have your phone for you. You need to keep this with you,” he added.

She blushed but took the phone. She was always leaving it lying around, so he had to wonder if that wasn’t the reason she didn’t carry a phone.

“I don’t like phones. I don’t carry a big enough purse for one.”

“It’s an iPhone, it’s small and fits in your pocket. Leave it there. If we get separated, use it to call me.”

“We’re only getting separated when you’re in surgery and then I can’t call you, smarty-pants.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You can call me Smarty-Pants G.I. Joe anytime, princess.” He loved it, in fact. Cracked him up. He might remember it when he was eighty.

She blew out a Skittles-scented breath and leaned into him more fully. “You know, we’re going to be late.”

“Yeah? I bet you a blow job we won’t be.”

She laughed and stepped out of his arms because he let her. She also handed him his crutch and patted his head. “Be good and maybe I’ll feel sorry for you after the surgery.”

“What? You mean you won’t automatically?”

“Well, I will, but if you’re good, I might let you think up something for me to do, to keep your mind off, you know, the pain.”

He winked and kissed her once, too briefly. “I’m going to make you keep that promise, princess, and you already know what I’m going to want,” he said.

She seemed more than okay with that. In fact, the smile he got seemed to say she was already thinking about new ways to make him insane with that mouth of hers.

Can I be this lucky? All I have to do is get surgery and I get this kind of treatment?

* * * *

Two hours later, David hid an amused smile every time Paris swung by his seat. He was tired of waiting, and if not for the crutch, he’d be the one pacing the room, but Paris was doing it for him.

She might have worn a hole in the floor, too. She’d met the doctor, interrogated him like a professional, then met Troy and had no patience for him. He knew it was because she worried for him, but the poor Ranger didn’t know where to step with her. It had cracked David up until he’d finally pointed out she was scaring the man. She’d looked wild-eyed from him to Troy, then blushed and apologized, blaming him completely. He liked that, and fully accepted it, too. It was his fault. She’d lost her dad under the knife. It explained a lot.

He’d have to forgo the benefits of more surgery if she worried this much over him.

Troy was here, in the hospital, and from the nod he’d given David he was staying close. That could mean Will and Carson were just being cautious, or a whole lot more Troy didn’t want to say in front of Paris.

He shoved the worry aside, and put his faith in God, and of course, the adorable woman worrying her pretty little head over him.

“So, what is taking so long? I’m not happy he won’t let you come home after. Why should we stay here for the night, David? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Princess, it makes perfect sense. It’s a quick surgery, but it’s standard to stay the night.”

“Not in Canada.”

He held off the grin and nodded as if that was truly a good example of how wrong the doctor was. He’d pulled a lot of strings to get her in here with him, since it wasn’t standard procedure, but neither was anything they were doing. Being ex-military did have its benefits at times.

“We get to go home, you know, when we want,” she added in a huff, and walked over to tuck his blanket over his chest and smoothed it down a little, too. “Are you sure you want to stay here?”

“Hell no, but that door locks, so you can still make good on that promise, right?”

“David Jansen,” she exclaimed, just like he knew she would.

He tugged her to sit on the bed and stroked her arm. She’d taken off her jacket and he could see her lacy pink bra straps, but she was so gorgeous he had trouble catching his breath around her long enough to suggest she put the jean jacket back on. She’d slipped on cowboy boots, and the combination with the sundress was stunning.

“You’re worried. You shouldn’t be. You’re too beautiful to worry so much over a small surgery.”

She blushed, but smiled at him sweetly, kissing him like he’d also known she would. “Why do my looks have anything to do with me worrying?”

“You’ll get wrinkles.”

He caught her by surprise if her spluttered laughter and collapse against his chest meant anything. He was pleased he could still get her. She was a quick learner, but he had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

A male intern popped in, then stopped at the door.

“It’s okay, come in. She falls all over me all the time.”

“David,” she whispered, horrified now. “Is it time so soon?”

“You were just pacing and demanding to know why they were taking so long,” he reminded her.

She bit her lip and nodded. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

He caught her hand when she made to get up and stopped her that easily. All kidding aside, he’d learned to listen to her gut.

“You do?”

Wincing, she stroked his hand then ducked her head. “Maybe I’m just not used to taking care of you and it’s worrying me. You take care of me.”

His chest got all filled with silly crap over that. He didn’t think about it that way, but he tried to make sure she was always happy and comfortable. Still, her instincts had been right before.

“I should have showed you how to use a gun,” he muttered.

Her head came up at that and she scanned his face for how serious he was. “I know how to shoot a gun. My uncle taught me.”

Something—and it wasn’t relief—settled along his spine. His instincts rippled with unease, as if he’d walked into a sniper’s scope. No one who survived combat didn’t have instincts they knew better than to ignore. His were clearly worried over her, now more than ever.

“Look, I was half-kidding, princess. If anything isn’t okay you call Troy, he’ll forgive you. If he doesn’t answer, you call Will. If he doesn’t answer, you call Carson. He’s listed in your phone. He’s last, though, you got it?” There were men watching her anyway, but if she got scared, he wanted her to call someone and know she’d be safe.

She nodded at each name, made a face at his reference to Troy, then got all worried again at Carson’s name. “Why is Carson last? Isn’t he your commander?”

“Not any longer. I’m done with all of that. You’re my mission now, and making us happy is yours.”

“Funny, very funny,” she muttered.

“I’m serious. Now, anything doesn’t feel right to you, you call Will, okay?” he asked, eyeing the intern once before he settled his focus back on Paris’ worried face.

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand. Hers were cold and she trembled.

Hell, this is bad. But this is a surgery, simple stuff. It has to be bringing up losing her dad.

“I’ve had more than a few of these, remember,” he told her, winking. “You’ve seen the scars, so it’s fine. A knee is no big deal, and heck, this man is going to make sure I’m fine, aren’t you?”

The guy nodded and stepped more fully in the room. “I’m James, Mr. Jansen. I’ll be here to assist today. The surgery is quite simple, Ms. Masters. The doctor has him set for a three-hour window, but I’ve seen these done in an hour. I’ll come get you myself as soon as he’s out, and you can wait with him until he wakes up.”

She nodded at that, but more people piled in the room. James moved over to inject his IV with something, probably to make him sleep. He said something along those lines, but David’s focus was on Paris. She was white as a ghost, but smiled brightly at him. He wanted to reassure her again, but he could already feel the drug seeping into his muscles.

“I really am a bad patient,” he admitted.

“You are?” she demanded, brushing his forehead with a hand. “I knew you would be. Demanding and cranky, probably, too.”

“Yeah, a bit of both.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered. “Just wake up so we can talk about where we’re going to live. I think Canada is much better for raising children, but I have this feeling you’re going to argue.”

He laughed, caught off guard. “Now you want to talk about where we’re going to raise our kids? Woman, you have the worst timing, I swear.”

“No, not the worst,” she said, and leaned in to kiss him quickly. Still bent over, she smiled, filling his entire line of sight. “You do, remember? And you never did tell me why it makes it easier when you shave down there.”

He choked on a laugh, but it was half-hearted. The drug was taking over, but that was okay, Paris had his hand and her pretty face filled his vision. He’d go down like that, any day, any time.

“Be here when I wake up.”

“That’s a promise,” she whispered, or he thought she did.

* * * *

Paris looked up from her text to Sara to see the intern, James, pulling a hospital blue thing off his head. An older, gray-haired man walked next to him. David’s doctor. She’d not met him yet, since he’d been flown in just to work on David.

“Ms. Masters, I’m Doctor Ford. It’s nice to meet you.”

He smiled and took her hand when she stood.

Her legs were wobbly with relief, but that was okay. As long as David was okay. She never wanted to see him grow limp like that again. Ever. A shadow moved along the hallway behind the doctor.
Troy. Has he been here the entire time?

“He’s done?”

“Yes, he’s all taken care of. He should be up and walking on his leg by tonight. I’d like him to take it easy for a few days, small walks, but walking is good. Then he can start to take longer ones. No straining it for now, no crouching, or bending his knee too much at first, but by the end of the month he’ll be as good as new.”

“Oh my God, really?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. Two men in suits walked up and she caught her breath in surprise. They weren’t the same ones from Wyoming, but they were the same breed.

“Ms. Masters, we’re here to take Doctor Ford back to New York.”

“Ah, yes. My, my, Mr. Jansen does merit a great deal, but so do all our heroes, correct?” Ford murmured to her. “Just try to help him take it slow, and he should be right as rain.”

She nodded, too shocked by all the information to have it make sense yet. David was fine. That was all she could latch on to. The doctor walked off, a man on either side of him, leaving her with the intern, James.

“He’s really okay?”

“The doctor said he was healthy as a horse. Come on, I’ll take you to him,” James added, and ushered her down a hallway. She didn’t see a nurse’s station, but that was okay. She would take care of David by herself. The entire hospital was quiet, and she’d only seen one other person while she waited. And Troy.

“Here you go, now he’s going to be groggy, and since he was military, he might be a tad bit aggressive when he wakes up, disorientated at first,” he advised, then opened a door. “But I’m sure you know how to handle him.”

All she saw was David. He was pale and still on the hospital bed. The IVs and monitors and screens around him blinked and freaked her out badly enough her stomach hurt. His hand was warm, though, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was easy to see.

“You’ve lost someone?”

She turned partway to nod once. “My dad. I was young, but it made an impression,” she whispered.

“He’s healthy,” he said with a laugh. “Heck, he’s like a war machine, so don’t worry on that score. I read his chart, he’s gonna walk out of here tonight.”

“We were told we have to stay the night.”

He nodded. “That’s true, but that doesn’t always happen with men like your…uh.”

“Fiancé,” she supplied, smiling when she did. She’d gotten to say it first, and she had a feeling David would be very jealous of that.

“Ah, right. Anyway, if you need anything else I’m off to the side of the nurse’s station. The nurses will be by in often to check on him. If he’s not up and…well, getting around on his own in a few hours, call me.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Yeah,” James said, tipping his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, okay, well, I’m there if you need me.”

She nodded and sat carefully on the bed next to David. All she needed was right here.
David, but awake.

His leg was only wrapped with a bit of gauze and some padding, so she could clearly see the blood, and whatever the yellowish-orange gunk was that was seeping through. She ignored that and adjusted his covers, then felt his forehead. He was warm, but not too hot.

Suddenly she realized this was the first time, ever, she’d been awake and he wasn’t. She knew he sometimes stayed awake when she slept, mostly because she could feel him rubbing her shoulders as she fell asleep, but this was her first time to be here, with him, when he wasn’t awake.

For some reason, that made her smile and freak out at the same time.