Charity's Passion (15 page)

JUSTIN LAUGHS AT ME
in his ultra-sexy way. "I'm sure they're perfectly fine."

We're lying in bed and I've finally told him what had happened earlier, how I'd interrupted Garrett and Trisha in the office at the Grill. I'm mortified all over again and he thinks it's funny.

Okay, maybe it is a little.

My fingers dance over his solid planes of chest muscle. Neither of us seems as exhausted as we were when we got home a short time ago. Now that we are alone, the excitement of our new reality is charging us.

He's going to be my husband.

Holy fuck!

I have so many questions and I'm afraid to ask them all and look like a desperate waif greedy for attention and control.

"You're going to bubble over and short circuit if you don't ask those questions on your mind," Justin says suddenly. "I can see them all churning around in your head waiting for you to spit them out. It's not healthy, or fair, to keep them all in."

I lower my head. He's right, of course, but I'm still worried about his reaction. Just asking me was such a huge leap for him.

"Okay," he says through a deep breath. "I'll guess my way through."

He studies my face, looking straight through my eyes. I can almost feel him inside me rummaging around through my thoughts. "You want to know when; if I want a long or short engagement."

"That's the most obvious," I tease.

Justin shrugs his shoulders. "Of course it is; did you think I was going to read your mind?"

Really, my snort-laugh did not need to be that loud, but just like Melissa and Trisha, Justin seems to only love it when it happens, and I've grown used to it in front of him.

"I'll wait if you want, but I'd rather it be soon. I don't want you to be able to get away from me so easily once you realize I'm not good enough for you," he says, his large arm holding me just a little tighter as if I might decide to leave him now.

"That will not happen; you’re perfect for me. And I would like to marry you sooner too," I tell him. "As soon as this Marker businesses is done, we'll start planning."

Justin agrees with a nod. "We can get married just as quickly as we can put together whatever kind of wedding you want. What do you want, Charity? Huge and elegant with hundreds of guests, or small and cozy with just our closest loved ones?"

He rolls over quickly, balancing himself on his elbows above me. "I will give you whatever you want; all you have to do is tell me." His beautiful face dips closer to mine. "I want to give you everything. Tell me what you want." He moves his mouth toward mine but pulls away just as I expect to feel him, studying me with my lips pursed and my eyes lightly closed. "You're so beautiful; I love looking at you. I never feel as real in this world as I do when I'm with you. I'm only relevant because of you."

Finally his lips crash into mine and the taste of his mouth ignites my passion. The strength of his impressive lips sends chills down my arms as I move my legs from under him, opening them for him to fall comfortably in between.

Slowly I move my hands up his body, tenderly enjoying him and his deliberate movements, the tilting of his head so that our mouths fit like a puzzle, a dangerously strong hand gently moving my hair, his well-controlled hips grinding into mine as if to some music I cannot hear. Both of us have been affected by the romance of the day and we are longing for a deep consummation of our love.

Justin's tongue slides around mine in tantalizing stabs that make me wish our clothes were already off completely. I don't want to wait. I grab the waistband of his shorts and pull them down along his thighs until I can't reach any further. There's no denying his familiar hardness I now feel pressing between us, or how it makes my breath speed. My heart gallops with anticipation and makes my entire being shake on the mattress.

I feel Justin's mouth begin to move away from mine toward my neck where his lips caress me and his tongue flicks in teasing jabs. "I adore every part of you," he whispers. "Thank you for saying yes."

I'm not waiting a moment longer, not with my warrior parts on fire and my heart exploding.

Now it's my bottoms that I grab at. I can't take them off, not with him between my legs, so I deliberately yank them to one side and expose myself. His manhood finds it instantly, grinding through my hot folds.

I wrap my other hand around his shoulder and neck, consumed by the lust his warm breath and wet mouth are causing as they dance around near my ear.

I love this man with everything there is in this world and I know that's okay and safe because he feels the same way. My doubts earlier were foolish. We are more than good enough for each other—we're perfect.

His overbearing protectiveness keeps me warm; his weakness for the sight of me keeps me strong.

The wide tip of his cock pushes through my walls to the inside. Inches of him keep coming, keep slipping deeper, while I move my unneeded hand out from between us and use it to pull his hips against me.

A long moan rolls from his chest as he enjoys the feel of me, the heat of my body. Muscles quiver all over him as he searches for control.

This is not going to be hard and fast. Tonight he's making love to me and that is exactly what I want. No toys. No gym. I want my fiancé and the power of his love.

Once he has the control he needs, his hips begin long, slow, satisfying strokes that spread goose bumps over every inch of me. His kisses vary, some light and tender, some strong and passionate.

Eventually I draw my legs up around him, desperate for as much of my body making contact with his as I can get. We are in perfect rhythm with each other, hips grinding, backs arching, hearts racing.

I feel like crying from desire under him. Sometimes he locks his eyes in mine and I can absolutely feel his love for me. It's blissful to be so sure, to know with every part of you that your destiny has found you.

My breathing grows more labored and shallow as my orgasm moves forward. I can't take much more. Any control I had is dissipating quickly into the night.

As always, Justin knows this. He refuses to speed up or slow down; delivering me one thrust at a time to the edge. But I can hear his end coming as well; each of his deep breaths starts with a short, sexy growl.

I run a hand into his hair and pull his face to mine. I want our lips touching when our climaxes arrive. Justin responds with a sensual rocking of his lower body that drives his manhood into my most sensitive places. Each thrust heightens my excitement until I see lightening flashing on the inside of my eyelids.

A deep, throaty moan escapes me and I'm cumming in an instant. My legs draw him in closer and tighter while Justin's chest rumbles in a long purr-like growl. We complete our bliss together with our mouths exploring each other's, lips caressing, hot tongues dancing in celebration.

It's awhile before we've caught our breath and our hearts have returned to normal. Ever the gentleman, Justin brings me a towel, running it through my thighs with a wicked smirk before laying the dry side down on me. He lays down beside me, waiting for me to use the bathroom first. As I get up, I wrap the towel around his cock and give it a tortuously slow, drying squeeze and yank that makes him convulse with sensitivity, laughing at my wickedness.

Our engagement is consummated and we're ready. Everything is in place now.

J
ohn Roberts had called us earlier and we're so glad that he did. Nothing feels right about this meeting. There is an air of danger, a silence that seems to scream at your senses, and you know something is about to happen.

Arthur Shea called John Roberts and told him they absolutely had to meet. Shea told him where to be and hung up without waiting for John Roberts to answer. It was last minute and very unexpected, exactly the kind of thing Justin has been demanding they avoid.

John Roberts had a bad feeling and called Justin immediately. He didn't like it, and neither did we. Justin told him to keep it quiet. We'd go with him, but Justin didn't want anyone to know we were coming.

We needed the advantage.

Justin knows the address we were given. "It's all shops and bars. Lots of places to hide and several exit routes," he explains.

"This is to get us out where he can see us, isn't it?" I ask, not letting my voice show the tension I'm feeling.

"I think it is," Justin admits. "All I want you to do is get eyes on Arthur Shea and stay with him, nothing else. Don't do anything. Find him and keep your eyes on him. Don't even approach him, not unless you have to. Make sure he stays safe."

My pulse in already thumping through me, but not because I'm afraid of Marker—in fact I'm hoping that this
is
his work, and that this might be over quicker than we all expected.

"We'll stay with John Roberts," Justin continues. "He's the target."

I have to ask, "Do you think Shea is part of this?"

Justin shrugs. "Possible either way. We'll have to keep our eyes open until we know one way or the other. That's why I want you on him. You'll see it if he's fucking us over."

His trust in me is amazing for my confidence. This is the first time I'm ever knowingly walking into a trap. It's bizarrely liberating.

Justin wants our vehicle further out in case we need it. We park a few blocks away and walk the rest. John Roberts' car is just ahead of us; he sees us walking up behind him and gets out. It's the first time he looks so old to me and I think it's the stress. The streets are busy and that's as great as it is terrifying.

The mixed smells of the street vendor food is everywhere. Marker could be anywhere the middle of it all.

"Have you seen Shea yet?" Justin asks.

John Roberts shakes his head. "I'm sure he's inside. The address he gave me is an Irish pub just up ahead of us. Probably already has a Jameson down his throat."

My eyes are everywhere, looking for any sign of a man that could look like and be anyone. I guess I'm just looking for anyone acting or doing anything that doesn't make sense. Even I know it's a waste of time; Marker, if he's here, is going to blend in so much even he won't know who he is.

"Let’s get to it then," Justin says, anxious to get this over with.

All three of us walk through the crowd up to the pub. Justin is much more relaxed looking than John Roberts and I. We look like drug mules carrying through a policeman's ball.

Inside, the pub is as dark as every other Irish pub I've ever been to. Dark wood and Guinness signs abound, and somehow it's smoky as hell inside even though there's no smoking allowed in the building.

Arthur Shea is seated near the back of the place. He sees us coming as easily as we see him, and he rolls not just his eyes but his entire head in disgust.

We walk to him. No one in the bar looks or if the ordinary.

"You had to bring your dog?" Shea asks. "I was hoping this could be a quick and easy thing and you could tell them after. Having us all together in public doesn't feel safe."

John Roberts shrugs his shoulders stiffly. "I don't make a move without him or I don't feel safe."

Shea chews on that for a second, churning the taste of it around his mouth.

"It's a risk," Shea says. "For them this is a big, dangerous risk. I don't want them, or you in danger; it's not good for our business. Senator Lewis must become the next president, or all of this was for nothing, and it needs to continue even if something happens to one of us, so having us all in the same place is a bad idea."

"Why don't you just get to the point then, so we can leave? I told you not to make a move without me." Justin growls.

"It's not a move," Shea defends. "I have information, important information, and I don't trust the phones—not with this."

"For fucks sake, Shea, just spit it out. You always have to make such a big production out of everything," John Roberts chuckles. Shea had been nursing a glass of Jamison on the table top in front of him. John Roberts quickly scoops it up and downs the two fingers left. He smacks the glass back down hard, wipes his mouth with his hand, and smiles. "Thanks."

I wish he was my grandfather.

Shea finally relaxes. "There's been a threat, a credible one, against the Vice President. Only a few people know about it; I have it contained, but we all know what this is. Marker's sending a message—if he can't get what he wants, he will fuck everything else up for us."

"Maybe," Justin says softly, "but that's not why he did it."

"Then why?" I ask. I can tell from his face that it should be obvious.

"For this." He waves a hand at all of us. "To get us out together. And it worked," He answers calmly. "He's here. Marker doesn't give a shit about the Vice President or Senator Lewis; none of that matters to him. What he wants is a shot at us, and he has that right now."

Shea suddenly looks terrified, as if it all finally clicked for him.