A Dash of Spice
“Ah, fuck,” he growled as he let go. “Oh, God, Ciara. Babe.” The shudders ran through him. She continued to hold him firmly, drawing out her orgasm and his. “Yes, sweetheart. You’re so amazing. So fucking amazing.”
Her lips curled against his temple. “We’re so fucking amazing.”
“That, too.” His forehead pressed to her shoulder. He breathed heavily. Still shuddered.
Ciara didn’t move. Didn’t want him to move. She just wanted another precious memory for her mental scrapbook. There was no telling what would happen in the morning; what would happen a year from now; what would happen ten years from now. So she clung to the moment in which they lived… Hopeful for many more that were this incredible.
She had no idea how long they stayed glued together. Until Scout finally lifted his head and said, “Jesus, I’m crushing you.”
“No, no!” she was quick to say. “Not at all.” His weight on her was heavenly.
Regardless, he pushed himself up, withdrew from her and hopped to his feet. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare go anywhere.”
She snuggled deeper into the fur blankets. “Where on earth would I go when you’re here?”
He grinned. All satisfied and sexy and just plain hot.
Then he sauntered off toward a bathroom. Ciara’s teeth bit into her lower lip to keep the ridiculously sappy grin from her own face.
Euphoria seeped through her veins, burning even brighter when Scout strutted back into the living room. He was a work of art. And his gaze was locked with hers. He slipped between the furs, lying on his side as she did, and pulled her to him. They were huddled under the warm blankets and she breathed him in. Didn’t even care that they’d left remnants of their dinner on the coffee table.
The TV was still on, but the sound had been turned off for the halftime show while they’d talked. The flickering lights didn’t really register, because Ciara was tucked close to Scout, her head at his chest, the covers pulled up high.
His arms were around her and she was surrounded by heat and sinew and all things fantastic about this man.
It was everything she’d ever wanted. Everything she always prayed for. The two of them in their private, intimate cocoon. Where no one could distract them or invade their little world.
Emotion flowed through her. Getting the best of her, truth be told.
Her fingernails lightly swept over Scout’s pecs as she listened to his steady breathing. She had no idea if he’d already drifted off.
Yet she couldn’t stop herself from whispering, “I love you.”
For better or for worse.
Chapter Seven
Scout’s eyes snapped open.
He had no idea how long he’d been out. Had no idea what time it was—late at night or the wee hours of the morning.
The fire still snapped and crackled in the hearth at his back. Ciara was still snuggled against his front, one of her arms wrapped around him, her fingers curling into his back. Her breathing was calm, measured. She was asleep.
Unfortunately for Scout, there was a rapping at the base of his skull that was all too familiar. The start of a cervicogenic headache—a little misleading because it wasn’t actually a “head” pain, but in this case, a neck one. It just triggered in the brain. Many TBI patients suffered more than one type of headache. Scout also incurred the migraines and the tension headaches. His own morbid little hat trick.
He felt it coming on. The roiling of his stomach, which was his first sign of nausea cresting. The lightheadedness. And the pounding.
Alarm shot threw him. He stealthily slipped from between the blankets so as to not disturb Ciara. He scooped up his clothes and boots and rushed to the bathroom. Dressed quickly. Searched his wallet and his pockets for the pain meds. Nada.
Where the hell were his pills? At least one!
He left the room and crept into the hallway. The cyclone built in his gut and in his brain. The hammering in his head intensified. The excruciating agony whirled violently so that Scout knew two things were about to happen.
First, he was going to scream.
Second, he was going to heave.
He had to get out there. Now!