Page 69 of Damascus & The Wildfire
“Wildfire,” he growled as his mouth claimed mine. I melted into him, my anxious thoughts drowned out by the delicious ache of desire.
Then his phone shattered the moment.
Merrick glanced at the caller ID and sighed as he stepped away to answer.
“Prez,” he said in a flat, professional tone, greeting Thane without a hello. He shot me an apologetic glance as he stepped outside the front door. He didn’t have to explain. Club business.
I rolled my eyes and slid off the table, taking the duffel to the bedroom. Dumping it out across the bed, I started to sort through the pile and froze.
Nestled between a few tank tops and my favorite pair of jeans was my vibrator.
My hand flew to my mouth. Shit. I’d left it out on the bathroom counter yesterday morning to dry, so Merrick hadn’t just tossed it in. He’d found the case in my nightstand, handled it, and packed it in my bag.
Heat flashed through my core, pooling low and deepas I imagined those big, tattooed hands examining the suction at the tip before curling the flexible base into the clamshell case. I pressed my thighs together and swore under my breath.
I shook my head to clear it as I heard the front door close. I’d figure out what to do about that thought later. I shoved the rest of the clothes back into the bag and picked a T-shirt and jeans for the day, stuffing the rest on top of the toy to deal with later.
I slipped into the bathroom to change, brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up into a messy bun. When I stepped out, I collided straight into Merrick’s chest. His hands caught my shoulders automatically, steadying me.
“Merci texted. Hatchet’s awake.”
Relief loosened something inside me, but the tension in his jaw still hadn’t fully eased, stress still tightening the corners of his eyes.
“How’s he doing?”
Merrick shrugged. “She said he’s OK. In a bit of pain, but the doctors are optimistic.”
“That’s good,” I said, searching his face. “Can he eat yet? We should grab him something to eat. Maybe those breakfast tacos he loves.”
“A peace offering?” he asked in a sharp tone. “Sorry Kenna chose me, but here’s a taco?”
I flinched. I could see how Hatchet might take it that way, though it wasn’t my intent.
Regret flashed over Merrick’s face as he took in my pained expression. “Shit. That was out of line,” he admitted. “I just … don’t know how he’s going to take it when I walk through that door.”
I bit my lip, sucking in a breath through the heaviness in my chest. “It’s fine. Let’s just get over there.”
I grabbed my purse off the counter and turned to head to the door. His hand hooked my arm, turning me back to face him.
“Don’t do that. Don’t say it’s fine when it isn’t. And don’t brush it off when I fuck up. That wasn’t fair to you.”
I blinked at him, feeling the crack in my chest widen. “I don’twant to come between you and him. Maybe it’s better if we all just … stay friends. I can’t be the reason?—”
Merrick interrupted me with a kiss, gripping my shoulders tight. “You’re not the reason he’s in the hospital. Like you told me last night, he was blindsided. Hatchet’s never been a relationship guy. And you didn’t feel that way about him. Right?”
“But—”
“Let’s table it,” he cut in gently. “Let me talk to him first. I’ll text Merci and see what he can eat. Donuts from Maisie’s, tacos from his favorite place. If there’s a way to soften the blow, it’s with food. Man thinks with his stomach and his dick in equal measure.”
A corner of my mouth twitched upward.
He kissed me again. “I really am sorry.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “I know. Let’s go.”
Silence filled the cab of Merrick’s truck. The pink donut box sat warm in my lap while I downed a latte with a triple shot of espresso from Maisie’s. Merrick drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping restlessly against his thigh until we made the stop for tacos without a word.
When we walked into the hospital, Merci waited outside Hatchet’s room.
