Page 114 of Sin City Dark
She managed to suppress her whimper of protest.
He pressed his forehead to hers, panting. She closed her eyes, her knees precariously close to buckling. She could feel his rock-hard abs rising and falling against hers. And something else was still very hard.
“This is the first time in my life,” he said, “that I resent having to go fly a plane.”
Her heart sank. “You need to go.”
“I do.” He didn’t move.
She didn’t want him to leave but didn’t want to be the reason for him being late either. It took everything she had to break from his hold, but somehow, she did, reaching to straighten his tie.
When she attempted to smooth the mess she’d made of his hair, he grinned. “Thank you,” he said.
She looked him up and down. “Gotta make you presentable.”
“That’ll take a while.” He smirked. “And that’s not why I’m thanking you. You gave me something to think about all day.” He picked up his tumbler, took a sip of coffee, then flipped the closure on the lid. Gently, he traced his index finger along her cheek. “Are we good?”
Were they?
Last night, she’d bolted, not wanting to ruin what they had. But now, her heart squeezed at the hope she read in his eyes, and her resolve wavered.
Thankfully, he didn’t wait for an answer. His eyes twinkled as he swiped his cap off the edge of the counter and strode to the door, picking up his flight bag. “Since we can’t go up this morning, today’s lesson will be night flying.”
“You think I’m ready?”
Large palm on the door handle, he turned, his smile slow and supremely cocky. “I’ll get you there.”
•
Nick
He sensed something was wrong even before he closed the door behind him.
Nick pocketed his truck key. “Jannie?”
No reply.
“Jannie?”
Nothing.
The house was dark and silent except for the tick of a large clock on the mantel. Nick flipped the light switch, tossed his flight bag in the entry hall, and crossed the family room.
Footsteps quickening, he headed for the bedrooms and found her door wide open. His heart squeezed when he saw her lying there, curled in a fetal position, illuminated only by the bedside lamp.
Rolf lay right by the bed, chin on his paws, a mournful look in his eyes. As Nick entered, the dog swished his tail back and forth a couple of times but didn’t get up to greet him.
Alarm tightened Nick’s throat. “What’s wrong?”
She rolled to face him, grimacing, and brought her arm across her belly.
His eyes widened. “Are you OK?”
“Not really. Cramps.”
He frowned. “Cramps?”
“Yeah.”
