Sarah Mine (13 page)
Authors: Riann Colton
I nodded as he kissed me again, a slow but greedy kiss that made everything tingle. “We have a bed?”
He smiled and it was all bad boy Hill Deveraux. “Yes. Yes we do.”
“I like my studio.”
“You’re gonna love our bed then.”
I did.
Sarah
“Sarah.”
I opened my eyes at the whisper of my name. There was a soft click then Hill lowered the camera. “Got you,” he said with a wicked grin. He leaned down and kissed me. “Someone’s at the door. Probably Jax come to give me shit for taking you to bed instead of to the barbecue.” He tossed one of his shirts my way. I drew it on and liked wearing something of his. I sniffed it and felt all fluttery on the inside. The grin on his face followed by the wink added to that intoxicating feeling. Holy hell…happiness with Hill Deveraux. Who knew that would happen?
“He does like his lectures.”
“Up and at ‘em, sexy. You have Deverauxs to dine with and we don’t like waiting.” He left me in our bed.
Our
bed. I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow that smelled of fabric softener. New sheets. According to Hill, he hadn’t slept in the bed since he had bought it after he moved in. Too big and empty, he’d said, shadows of his nightmares in his eyes.
I heard Hill talking, a male voice responding, and I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to go to a barbecue. As much as I adored Jax, I didn’t want to go visit with him tonight. I wanted to stay here.
My skin began to feel itchy and the feeling of being watched pricked at me. Turning my head toward the source, I opened my eyes.
My heart stopped.
It stopped in my chest to see large dark eyes looking at me. Hair the same brown as mine was messed up and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. His arms were on the bed, his hands stacked so his little chin rested on top. Automatically I reached down to tug the sheet up even though I was wearing Hill’s shirt. I felt vulnerable all of a sudden in a way I’d never imagined. What should I say? Jesus.
I was going to kill Hill. Kill him. He had no right. No right!
I couldn’t even remember the last time I had seen him. A baby. Small. Crying. Because his mother was a messed up failure. Something hot and painful twisted inside of me as I looked at Billy staring solemnly at me. I had given birth to him. He was beautiful. I had given him up because I hadn’t wanted to ruin his life. Oh God, he was beautiful.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi.”
Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry
. The words pounded in my brain and I swallowed over the knot in my throat. He climbed up onto the bed and propped himself up on his elbows, pressing his face close to mine.
“Do you feel better now?”
I nodded.
“Daddy says you were really sick.”
I nodded again. “Yes. But I feel much better.”
He pressed a finger beneath my eye. “My mom,” he whispered as if in awe then leaned forward and kissed where he had touched. “Did you miss me?”
I nodded, unable to talk because I would cry all over this little boy. I cleared my throat and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Every day, Billy. Every day.” My hand was shaking. He lowered his head beside mine then wrapped an arm around my neck, hugging me tight.
It broke me apart. I had hurt him, betrayed him in ways he could never understand. And here he was, hugging me. I hugged him, the small, sturdy weight of a boy who had thrived without me, despite me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered as I smoothed down the messy hair that was like his father’s. He smelled of grass and sun, with faint traces of barbecue smoke. It made me look at the doorway where Hill leaned against the frame. “Thank you,” I mouthed at him. He had done this. I knew it. This had Hill Deveraux written all over it. Sneaky Deverauxs.
He winked, lifted his camera and took our picture.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book wouldn’t be without some serious back up and support. There’s my awesome beta-readers Sloane Taylor, my good friend Patricia and Steena Holmes, who believes in this story as much as I do. There’s my amazing editing team of (again) Patricia, Bobbi Beatty and Alyssa Palmer. Kat Laurens who generously gave me some real estate in her Safe Haven novella. And those who kept pushing me to hurry up and get this book out: Steena Holmes and Tawny Stokes. Thank you, ladies, for being my bra with this book.
BIO
I’ve lived in Calgary, Alberta, Canada for the majority of my life except for my first 6 months and a three-month stint in Kingston, Ontario that ended with no job and me out of money and returning back to Calgary. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember and probably before then if one includes creative lying in grade 1 when I told a classmate that we were moving to Tokyo and I didn’t even know where that was. (And I got caught when her mom phoned my mom about our future move to Japan. Apparently my story was believable.) Writing is what keeps me sane; though, really, if you ask around – no one will agree to my sanity.
Table of Contents