“Don’t worry, Essie. He’ll be back to his normal pain in the ass self in no time.” Wes gave her arm a light squeeze then moved away to give her some privacy.
Releasing a huge sigh of relief, she lowered her head, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his shoulder. Gratitude washed over her. “I love you.” The words came out so hushed, barely a whisper, but she needed to say them. Even if he couldn’t hear her—
“Say it again.”
Her head snapped up at the sound of Xander’s rusty voice. “Dios mío, I was so worried about you.” She leaned forward, pressing kisses all over his face. “Don’t you ever get shot again. Do you hear me? I forbid it!”
He chuckled then flinched. “Ow. Yeah, one hundred percent do not recommend it. But all the kisses are helping.” Their gazes locked. “Was I dreaming, or did you say what I think you did?”
“In case you need clarification, I love you, Xander Hawke.”
He swallowed hard, searching her eyes. “I’m glad. Because once this plane lands, I’m never letting you go. You’re mine.”
She pulled back, looking into his deep blue eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want,mi Estrella.” He squeezed her hand. “For better or worse, I’m all yours.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “Oh, it’s definitely for the better,mi amor.”
Chapter twenty-four
Two Weeks Later
Xander kicked the heavy covers off and sat up against the pile of pillows. Hell, she’d piled so many extra blankets on him, he was sweating to death. “Essie!” he called.
He’d spent the last two weeks cooped up in his bedroom, and he was going stir crazy. Grouchy to the extreme because he felt good enough to leave the house, but Essie had forbidden it. She told him he wasn’t allowed to do anything except rest and recover. And she meant every single word because she watched over him like a damn hawk. He supposed it was fitting because he planned on making her a Hawke soon. But in the meantime, any time he dared to leave the bedroom, she tucked an arm through his and escorted him back to bed with a lecture about needing to relax while his body healed.
And she’d saidhewas bossy? She was a straight-up dictator.
The door opened and she breezed in, looking like a ray of sunshine. “Someone sounds extra grumpy this morning.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “Do you need some coffee?”
“I need to get out of this house,” he groused. “I’m about to lose my damn mind.”
“You can leave when Wes and I have given you the okay, and not one second sooner.”
He narrowed his eyes, trying to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She simply batted her lashes and sent him that sexy smile of hers that made him crazy. “Wes said I was good to go,” he reminded her. “Three days ago.”
“True, but I haven’t cleared you yet.”
“So you’re a doctor now?”
Essie sat down on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on his bare chest, sending electric currents skittering across his skin. “I’m the woman who loves you.”
Hearing her say those words wrecked him in the best possible way. It also reminded him that he hadn’t said them back to her. Not the official words, anyway. He’d claimed her, made her promise she’d never leave, but the actual declaration of those three little words was such a huge thing for him. The words held a lot of weight. They meant something, and he’d only ever told two women he loved them—his baby sister and his useless mother.
More than anything, he wanted to tell Essie. He’d been waiting for the right moment—when he wasn’t half doped up on painkillers or worried about Tomás walking in on them. Her brother was living with them but, at the moment, it was too quiet for him to be home. He’d already made friends with the kid down the street and they liked to play soccer together.
Having two people move into his house and invade his personal space had been a surprisingly welcome relief from the cold silence he’d become so used to when he was between jobs. The truth was, they brought so much life and energy to the place, he couldn’t imagine it ever going back to the lonely way it used to be.
“And as the woman who loves me,” he began cagily, “don’t you think it’s time you show me just how much.”
For the last fourteen days, she had avoided touching him in any sexual way, claiming he needed to recuperate. He was growing damn tired of it, too. He needed her hands on him, stroking and touching him. Not just changing his bandage.
“Well, that all depends,” she practically purred.
“On?”
Her fingers gently caressed his naked chest, raking through the light growth of hair, circling a flat nipple. “On if you’re ready or not.”
