WICKED INTENTIONS { Completed}

Chapter 30

Shakira found herself in a waking fantasy; a soft bed cushioning her body, the sweet scent of flowers tickling her nose and best of all, silence.

Sweet silence!

Considering the kind of commotion that'd been going on around her, it was a blessed relief. There were no hands on her aching body mending it or adjusting her position. No uncomfortable pricks on her arm as they forced medication into her. No voices in her ear begging her to come back. Even Eve had cut short her Jamaican holiday to come bother Shakira with shrill claims of how she was going to give herself to the Lord if her baby just woke up. Hmph!

Oh, how she'd wished to cuss them out and tell them to leave her alone. Can I get some peace and quiet in here? She'd wanted to shout. But her voice seemed to have locked itself in the same tight vice of unconsciousness that her eyes, bones, joints and muscles were in. She couldn't open her eyes, she couldn't speak and she couldn't move. It was damn irritating.

And now finally they were gone.

Silence.

Her lips curved in pleasure as she opened her eyes. Her vision smarted from the soft glow of a nearby lamp but soon cleared up and the ceiling came into focus. She sucked in a deep breath but nearly choked on it when it scoured her throat painfully. In response, she jerked slightly in the bed but that small movement was enough to send needles of pain pricking at her right shoulder. When she turned her head, it was to find her right arm bound to her side with a large bandage to match her white gown.

Good God! What happened to me?

Bemused she turned her head again. The bedside table looked like a flower garden. Vase after vase after vase decked its tops and then trailed off to the floor. But it wasn't the flowers that caught her attention. It was him.

He was deep asleep, his shoulders hunched and his arms propping his head on the bed right beside her waist. His hair was a mess, some of the long spikes standing on end as if he'd raked his fingers through them repeatedly and in frustration. Reaching out, she smoothed her palm over the silky strands.

"Nath-" Her voice was the rough croak of frogs singing on the bayou and he didn't even stir. Clearing her throat, she tried again, "Nathan."

This time he heard. He came awake slowly, peering over his arms with blurry and reddened eyes as if still half in his dreams. Then his eyes lit up. "You're awake."

Shakira smiled in response. "Yes."

Before she knew it, he was gathering her into his arms. Gingerly supporting her injured arm, he compressed her body against his. As if reassuring himself he whispered, "You're awake."

Dragging in a shuddering breath, he angled his head and covered her lips. It was only when he did that she realized how she'd missed his kiss. It seemed like days since she'd last tasted him, months since he'd slowed her racing tongue with his, years since his lips had suckled hers passionately. He eased her into the kiss, teased her with his mouth and turned her senses on their head with his mouth. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily.

"What happened to my arm?" she asked when she'd finally drawn in enough air.

"I think Karyn dislocated it. The doctors had to pop it back in."

Shakira squinted in confusion. "Why would Karyn dislocate my arm?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Um...I." Her brow furrowed as she searched her memories. "I remember sitting in the hotel room with you discussing Wayne and his scam. Then we rushed out of the room. You kissed me at the elevator...then...then..." her words trailed off as her memory tapered off into blankness.