I line up as much of our bodies as I can.
But it’s not close enough.
I stretch my leg past hers, hooking my foot around her ankle and pulling her leg back.
I grab the wrist of her outstretched arm and slide it across the bed toward our bodies so her arm is bent and her hand is near her face.
I curl around her, locking her to me with my limbs.
And I put my mouth against her hair, breathing her directly into my body.
Val lets out a sleepy groan. And I hold her tighter.
I need her.
I need to keep her safe.
I need to keep her happy.
I need to keep her with me.
Always.
CHAPTER 67
Val
I take a sip of my coffee before setting the mug down on the vanity next to my sink.
Dominic waking me up with coffee was where the good part of this morning started and ended.
I pick the mug back up and take an even larger sip.
I think about the little bomb Dom dropped after handing me the mug… that I could have done without.
Spending the night with King, Savannah, and Aspen in a secluded cabin doesn’t sound like a good idea. In fact, it sounds like a really, really bad idea. Add in King’s crazy friend Nero and his wife, Payton, and it becomes a terrible idea. A horrible idea. An I can’t believe anyone thinks this will be relaxing idea.
I know we’re all supposed to be one big happy Alliance now, but the truth is I have no idea if Dominic has even talked to King since that day. Well, other than King apparently calling Dom last night to invite us to Colorado. And I don’t know if King ever realized just how in the dark I was about everything. And I don’t know how Dom and Nero will get along, but I know Nero is crazy protective of his wife… So ultimately, it’s a lot of big, over-the-top personalities and the women they’re obsessive with, all jammed into one cabin.
What could go wrong?
Considering the invite is about as last minute as you can get, I don’t think they were actually planning to invite us.
I grimace at myself in the mirror.
It’s probably because I’ve been avoiding Savannah’s calls—texting her hours after I watch my phone ring and never calling her back.
I groan as I tug the towel from my hair. I’m gonna need more than a cup of coffee to prepare for the grilling she’s gonna give me tonight.
I take my time moisturizing and brushing through my hair. Dom said I had two hours to get ready, and that was an hour ago. So I should still have plenty of time to finish my hair and makeup and pack.
We’re taking a private jet to Denver, and while that just confirms that our whole first meeting was a setup, I’m looking forward to not flying commercial. Not that I need to pack that much for a single night. But this way, I don’t have to mess around with travel-size things, and I can put it all in one bag.
Pulling open the cabinet beside me, I pause.
Last night I was a little out of it after my shower, and I didn’t use the antibiotic cream on my palms like the doctor told me to.
He was really nice, and so was his wife, but I didn’t want to be with strangers, so I rushed through his exam and had them leave.
Sighing, I pull out the large zippered leather bag the doctor’s wife gave me before they left, which I just shoved into the cupboard without opening. It’s worn and looks like a vintage doctor’s bag.
I half watched Doc put some extra bandages and the tube of cream into the bag, but his wife told me she had already filled it with the usual first aid items, so I should keep it handy because I might find them useful.
Heavier than I expected it to be, I set the bag on the counter with a thud and unzip it.
The antibiotic cream is right on top, so I pull that out first, followed by two bandages, and set them aside. Then I shuffle through the rest of the contents, just so I know what’s in here.
More bandages—of every size—a thermometer, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bottle of iodine, a little bag with what looks like medical tweezers, a box of tampons—interesting—packets of blood-clotting powder—yikes—what looks like a sewing kit for stitches—extra yikes—a bottle of prescription painkillers and another bottle of antibiotics with my name on it—guess that could come in handy—and… I pull the last item all the way out. A pregnancy test?
I stare at the box for a long moment.
Why would that be in a first aid kit?
My eyes move back over to the prescription pill bottles. Maybe there are certain drugs you can’t take while you’re pregnant, so you’d want to test first?
I’m sliding the box back into the bag when a thought hits me.