Filthy Beautiful Lust (Filthy Beautiful Lies, #3)

I take Max from one of the emergency room nurses and follow her into in Kylie’s hospital room. She’s sitting on the bed, holding her arm awkwardly in her lap. My heart clenches at the sight of her. This normally strong, resilient woman looks pale, exhausted, and tiny sitting in the hospital bed.

“Hey.” I bend down and kiss her cheek. It’s such a natural response that I don’t realize until after my lips are on her skin that it’s probably not appropriate. Oh-fucking-well.

“Thank you for coming. Max was getting out of hand. They have to fit me for a cast, and since they gave me some pain killers, they won’t let me drive home.” She reaches her good hand toward us and gives Max’s foot a playful tug, trying to lighten the heaviness all around us.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I was working in the office above my garage and when I heard Max cry on the monitor, I went jogging downstairs to get him, and I slipped. I tumbled down the last half-dozen or so stairs. X-rays confirmed my arm is broken in two spots.”

Shit. That’s not good. The urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her is nearly overwhelming. Instead, I give Max a gentle squeeze. I get the sense that he’s a buffer for each of us.

He lunges toward Kylie. “You’ve got to be gentle with your momma,” I tell him, letting him sit beside her on the bed, where he promptly crawls into her lap. Kylie moves her broken arm to the side away from Max and winces in pain.

“Miss Sloan?” A nurse pokes her head into the room. “I’m ready to take you to get your cast now.”

“Okay,” Kylie says, then turns to me. “Will you take him to the cafeteria to get something to eat? I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Absolutely. Want to get some lunch, buddy?” I ask, lifting him into my arms.

Max looks to Kylie, who makes the sign for eat, then he lets out a squeal.

Okay then. It’s settled. I have a lunch date with the world’s cutest one-year-old.

“Good luck,” I say to Kylie as the nurse leads her from the room. I can’t help the worry that churns in my gut.

Later, on the drive home, I’m trying to think of a way to explain to Kylie that it’s not a good idea for her to stay alone right now. But I know it will be a tricky subject. She barely let me strap him into his car seat. We’d moved it from her car into mine and left her car in the hospital parking lot.

“I still can’t believe you drove yourself,” I tell her.

She shrugs. “I didn’t know it was actually broken. I didn’t want to call an ambulance for nothing. It could have been a minor sprain.”

“An arm broken in two spots is not nothing.” Plus it’s her right arm-her dominant hand-meaning life is going to be difficult for her for the next six weeks. I can see her beginning to process all of this when we pull into her driveway.

First I help her from the car, then I get Max, and carry him, along with her purse, to the front door. Fishing around inside her purse for her keys, I see baby toys and tampons and tubes of lipstick, but no keys. Finally she directs me to look in the outside pocket, and I let us all into the house.

“Thank you,” she says, taking Max one-armed from me. “I’m sorry I interrupted your day. I hope you weren’t busy when I called.”

I remember that my cock had been in another woman’s mouth moments before she called, and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. “No, I wasn’t busy.”

“Still, I feel bad. The last time we hung out…”

“I gave you my card and told you to call if you needed anything. I’m glad I was here today to help.”

She nods. “Thank you for that. I didn’t have anyone else to call. With my nanny still away on her honeymoon and Colton and Sophie in Africa … it’s going to be a tough week.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I say, gathering my courage for what I’m sure is about to lead to an argument.

“What do you mean?”

“Come stay with me.”

“What? Me and Max? No. That’s crazy.”

“Kylie.” I look straight into her eyes. “You couldn’t even get him in and out of the car seat without help. How do you think it’s going to go when you’re alone and trying to fix him dinner, or give him a bath, or change his diaper, or do any of the other millions of things you do with him every day?”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“I’ll manage, Pace. It’s not your responsibility.”

“Maybe I want it to be.”

She watches me curiously, her eyes bouncing from mine, to Max, to the floor. “You want to change diapers?”

I shrug. “I want to help you. I couldn’t sleep at night with the thought of you here, alone, injured and trying to be strong. I know you’re strong. I know you can handle just about anything, but you don’t have to do it alone. Let me help.”

“The only reason I couldn’t get him into the car seat today was because I’m still sore.”

They’d given her some powerful painkillers, but I could tell she was still hurting. “And you’re going to be sore for the next several days. You broke your arm, angel. Come on, let’s pack a bag for you and for Max, and I’ll show you my place. If you don’t like it, or don’t think it will work, I’ll bring you guys right back here. Sound fair?”

She huffs out a deep breath. “I guess so. I don’t even know where you live.”

“I have a condo on the coast. You’ll like it, I think.” I treat her to a dimpled grin, and she rolls her eyes.

“Come on, Max.” She leads us all back to the bedrooms where she tosses clothes and toys onto the bed, and I stuff them into a bag.