Over the Line (12 page)

As she touched herself, his eyes closed for a moment. Then popped open. She moved her hips up and around as she stroked, dipping her fingers into her liquid and slithering them around her clit. Her breath began to speed up.

His cock pulsed with every stroke she made. Slowly he undid his towel and showed her what she was doing to him. Her eyes seemed to gleam at the sight. Lightly he ran his own hand over his dick, feeling it strain against his hand for more friction, more satisfaction.

She widened her legs and slid a finger inside herself. His balls tightened. Watched as she drew it out and spread the moisture over her clit. He’d never ever experienced anything as hot as this in his life. Never felt like this. He needed her in his life. Needed her body, her mind, her utter fearlessness.

“Gotta go, Dad. See you at breakfast.” He knew he’d cut his father off mid-lecture, but James couldn’t bring himself to care. He disconnected.

“Sweetheart. You started without me,” he said, sliding to his knees at the end of the daybed.

“I’m nearly finishing without you, too,” she gasped with a low half laugh.

“No fucking way.” He gripped her ankles and pulled her toward the end of the chaise. Then he kissed her bullet wound, flicking his tongue over it, and nudged her thighs even farther apart. “I want to see you.” He parted her folds with his fingers and lightly blew on her, making her buck under the sensation.

“Touch me, James…” she whispered, and the words, the use of his name, nearly blew the lid off his tightly controlled need for her.

He used the tip of his tongue to dart around her pussy, knowing full well that he was driving her as crazy as she was driving him. She strained against him, against the daybed, seemingly desperate to have his mouth on her.

He flattened his tongue and licked her hard, allowing the tip to flick at her clit at the end of the stroke. Again and again, holding her ass cheeks in his hand, he raised her hips and licked her from her asshole to her throbbing clit. It seemed to grow in his mouth as he sucked on it. He slowly slid two fingers into her.

Her breath was becoming labored and loud, until her hands dug into his shoulders as she embraced her release. She pulsed around his fingers as she came, gasping into the quiet air of the room.

Boo-yah.

* * *

Beth’s muscles melted like butter and she sank into the cushions. “
Madre de Dios
, James.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?” he asked, grinning.

“More than good.” She stretched and looked out at the pool. Something flashed in her peripheral vision and she shot upright. James followed her line of sight.

“What is it? What did you see?” He moved quietly to the window and peered out into the undergrowth.

An uneasy feeling prickled at the base of her spine, an instinct that had served her well in the past. “There was something, or someone there. Watching.” A chill ran through her. Give her something she could fight, something she could neutralize, and she was in her element. People she didn’t know sneaking around? Made it difficult to figure out who the enemy was.

“Whoever it was has gone now. It was probably a worker who stumbled across this place. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

There was a huge difference between being in combat, and having some unknown person watching her while she was naked. But his words infused a sense of security in her. He did have her back. He’d proved it before, and she trusted him now. Damn him. He could talk her down from borderline paranoia to ease with a couple of sentences. He was good.

He held out his hand to her. She grabbed it and he swung her into a fireman’s carry once again. This time he spanked her bare ass. She squealed at the sharp crack but wiggled against his shoulder. He carried her into the bedroom, where he tore off the covers and threw her down so hard she bounced. He was incredible. This was incredible. The most erotic morning she’d ever experienced, the most erotic she’d ever felt. What was it about this man that brought out this strange brazen hussy in her?

He towered over her, looking down at her, strangely intense. He closed his eyes slowly, as if he was capturing an image, and then bent over her, kissing up her leg, hip, stomach and breasts. Then he kissed her mouth, sending spangles of heat zigzagging through her body. With one hand he held his dick, teasing her still-sensitive clit with the tip, using her moisture to slide up and down. He took her left hand and kissed its palm, then as he slowly penetrated her, he sucked two fingers in his hot mouth. The duel sensation sent tingles all over her body. It was like every inch of her skin was on fire.

She used the fingers in his mouth to draw him down toward her mouth. He slid in and out of her with what could only be described as amazing control. He filled her up. Completely.

The muscles in his arms took all his weight as he rocked against her, pelvis against clit. She pulsed her hips in concert, eliciting a moan from him.

“James. I’m going to come again.” Her voice cracked on the last word as his gaze bored into hers.

“Good. But it won’t be the last time. Not nearly. The day is long and…”

“So are you,” she interrupted, gasping as his length pressed all the way to the top. She ground herself on his pelvic bone, unable to stop herself from giving into the blissful friction. She exploded, crying his name. He roughly thrust into her, watching her the whole time, groaning, suddenly out of control. He came inside her as her vision went grainy with the force of her own orgasm.

He released his arms and lay on her, their breaths in concert as they panted. After a minute he rolled to her side and held her against him. She wrapped her arm around him and stroked his back. He stared at her, and this time she just stared back, trying to take in this man who had saved her life, and then had burst like a tsunami through her defenses and made her want him enough to display herself to him, in the most vulnerable way she had ever been. It was physical. It was a physical vulnerability, but it was also deeply mental, and maybe even emotional. This wasn’t supposed to be. And she needed to quash that emotional aspect. Immediately.

She did not need to fool herself into thinking that she’d fallen in love in the space of a day. That would be too ridiculous. This was physical, maybe mental, and that was all.

“You’re something else,” he told her, tracing her side with the tips of his fingers, giving her skin light goose bumps.

“Something else other than what?” she asked, propping her head up on a hand.

“Unique.” His hand moved up to stroke her still-damp hair. “Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“I’m an
experience
? That makes me feel like a visit to a museum.” Beth shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “What are you saying?” She smiled to take the edge off her question.

“I’ve never been with a soldier before. I’m experiencing the army in a whole new way.” He grinned and ducked as if he thought she’d hit him. Which she might have done if she’d had the energy.

She laughed and snuggled into the pillow-top a little further. “Do you want to go ahead to breakfast and have the conversation about last night with everyone? I don’t have to be there if you think it would be better…”

“No way. You were affected, too.” He looked pointedly at her bruises. “And as far as anyone’s concerned, I’ve chosen you to be my wife, and you’re family now.”

“I guess the engagement should buy you some time, right? Until you get your heart broken and call it all off.” She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him, although her heart clenched as she actually said the words. What was up with her? She knew this was an act. But because they were pretending to be engaged, a tiny bit of her was embracing belonging to him. Nope. No, it wasn’t. “I mean, as long as I don’t meet someone here… there must be someone here my type, right? Even if he’s a caterer.” She winked at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet.”

He gently bit her arm. “I guess I’m just going to have to keep my eye on you, keep you close. Make sure you don’t run off with the food guy, like you nearly did with the taco guy last night.”

She sat up and slid off the bed, throwing a cynical look back at him. “Are you kidding me? I think
you
would have run off with him if I hadn’t been there… You should have seen the look on your face when you took your first bite.” She shrieked as a pillow flew at her head, and ran out to the closet to pick clothes.

He yelled behind her. “Breakfast at the main house in twenty.”

“Okay,” she called back, but inside her a cold hand of dread had already begun to sweep away the passion that had been there just a few minutes ago. Now she was going to have to stand up to the scrutiny of his family, and try not to be memorable at all to the director. She looked at her bruised arms.

Urgh.

They walked slowly across the lawn to the main house, hand in hand. Slowly because he knew the spell of the most perfect beginning to a day was about to be broken by his family. He loved them, but had nothing really in common with any of them except Sadie. It was too early to tell about Maisie. She always seemed to have something up her sleeve, much like his father, and he kind of hoped she would grow out of that trait.

Beth glowed this morning. She wore loose black linen pants and a long-sleeved top that showed off her toned arms but covered her bruises. His stomach clenched when he thought about how close she’d been to being seriously hurt. He couldn’t believe he’d brought her here and she’d been attacked.
Jesus
. She was also strangely silent.

“Are you okay? You’re very quiet,” he said.

She looked at their intertwined fingers. “I can’t help thinking that this is going to explode in a bad way. I mean, we’re faking this, right? Your family is going to see right through us. Added to which there’s bound to be the pressure of added security after last night, won’t there?”

“Are we? Are we faking this?” His breath came a little more quickly just thinking she considered what was happening between them to be fake. Was this a one-weekend stand for her? If so, how was he going to change her mind?

“Our engagement is fake. Look, the ring is already rejecting me.” She held up her hand and showed him the ring. It seemed to be moving around on her finger more than it should, as if it was trying to get off. Over his dead…

“We can get it resized for you,” he said, before realizing that of course there would be no resizing. “You’ll just have to try not to lose it before Sunday.”

“I’m trying really hard to keep it on. After breakfast I’m going to try to find a band aid to fatten my finger a bit. See if that helps. Don’t worry,” she said, looking at him, “I won’t scratch it or anything.”

That really wasn’t what he was worried about. His brain had flashed forward to having to take the ring back to Tiffany’s, and that didn’t sit well with him. Who wanted to be the guy that needs to return a ring? Who wanted to be the guy who returned the ring that was supposed to adorn Beth’s hand? He really hoped his dysfunctional family didn’t fuck up any chance he had with her. He needed a smooth weekend, where his family showed their very best side.

He led her up the stone steps, and as soon as he’d opened the door for her he headed toward the shouting. He guessed they weren’t going to show their best.

Beth stepped inside the doorway and pulled a face. “You think we should wait for backup? Let the fighting die down? You know I don’t like walking into a war zone.”

“Except I know you love walking into a war zone, you big chicken. You can face down the Taliban, but you’re scared of a little family disagreement?” As the words left his mouth, there was a huge crash, and a scream.

“I hate all of you. I’m leaving.” This was Maisie.

Beth kept her eye on the door. “Attack or retreat?” she asked.

“How about a little ‘hearts and minds’ diplomacy?” he said, drawing her toward the dining room.

“I missed the ‘hearts and minds’ class at the academy,” she said. “Also the ‘how to win friends and influence people’ one.”

He dragged her through to the dining room in time to see Maisie at the end of the table, holding three plates in her hands. As they both entered the room, she threw them all to the ground.

His parents were at the table but ignoring her, which he knew only made her behavior worse. Some therapist had told them to ignore her tantrums at some point, and so her bad behavior had continued, largely unchecked.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Maisie? Pick that up. It is not Gracie’s job to clean up after you’ve deliberately made a mess,” he said to her. It pissed him off that his parents didn’t stop to consider the other people who would actually have to clean up after they’d let her run amok.

“They won’t let me wear my boots,” she wailed. “I want to wear my boots.”

“Jesus, Maisie. You’re acting like a five-year-old. You should know by now that this doesn’t accomplish anything.”

She reached for another plate, but Beth stepped up to her and took the plate from her hands. Maisie looked totally astounded.

“What kind of boots are they?” Beth asked.

“Knee-high biker boots. They’re Doc Martens,” Maisie said with a brow too deeply furrowed for a thirteen-year-old.

“The ones with the laces up the shins?” Beth asked.

“Yes.” More disbelief at her words.

“Why don’t you pick up the plates and take me to see them? I always wanted a pair, but I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to wear with them. Come on.” Beth bent over and picked up a couple of pieces of broken plate. “What size are you?”

Maisie started picking up the rest of the shards. “Seven.”

“Ha! Guess what size I am?” Beth laughed triumphantly.

“Seven?”

“Got it in one. You going to let me try them on?” she said, holding her arm out to her.

As if they’d known each other for years, Maisie slid under her arm, allowing Beth to steer her toward the door.

“We’ll be right back,” Beth said as they walked past and out of the dining room.

All very well, and he was completely impressed, but now he was stuck with his parents and he knew they would probably ask questions that good manners dictated they couldn’t ask in front of Beth.

His mother patted her lips with a napkin and set it on the table. “Is she pregnant, dear?”

Okay, so not “probably.”

“Don’t.” He knew he had to head this off at the pass before he blew his top and left. He had to hold this together for his sisters.

“It’s a reasonable question, all things considered. We hear nothing about her, and then you show up engaged.” She relaxed back into her chair and crossed her arms.

Okay, so she had a point.

“No, she’s not pregnant,” he said, taking a seat at the table.

“Do we know her family?” she asked.

He tucked a serviette onto his lap. “I doubt it.”
Come on Walker, move it along.

He thanked Gracie for a coffee that she poured and added milk and sugar to the brew. “So can we talk about what happened last night?”

His father pulled down his
New York Times
and peered over the top of his glasses. “Yes. Simon briefed me last night.”

James fought hard to resist rolling his eyes. “And?”

“And it’s being handled.” His father picked up the paper again and started reading.

“Dad. My fiancée was attacked last night, and my sister was nearly abducted. Can you please give me a slightly more detailed answer. What exactly is being done about it?”

“The correct people have been informed, and we’re moving the high-profile part of the wedding back here.”

“So the ceremony will be here?”

His father sighed. “Yes.” He eyed his wife. “Your mother is taking care of the wedding arrangements. My people are taking care of everything else.”

“Okay. I want to be updated if there are any more threats. This is now affecting all the women I care about.”

His father looked at him impassively and gave a short nod. He guessed that would have to do.

“So remind me of the schedule.” James refused to be drawn into feeling like a kid again, and he definitely wanted to keep the conversation away from Beth and certainly on an even keel.

“We’ll have a small cocktail hour for friends and family around lunchtime, and then we will be getting ready to leave for the rehearsal dinner. That’s all we need you for today. Tomorrow will also be slow for you, until the wedding at midday.” His mother intoned the words as if she was reading from an itinerary.

“When you say ‘small cocktail hour,’ do you mean regular small or Walker small?”

His mother looked blankly at him, as if she’d never seen him before. He’d been on the receiving end of that look pretty much every time he’d seen her in the last ten years. She couldn’t understand why he’d chosen the military over Harvard and D.C. politics. James couldn’t understand why his choice was such a surprise to her, and had stopped explaining it a few years ago.

“Head count?” he explained.

“Oh, no more than fifty for cocktails and appetizers. We’re shifting the rehearsal to here, and then we’re going to Jamison’s,” she said, naming a famous Washington restaurant. “Your father’s made sure to have extra security there, so everyone will be able to relax. Right, dear?”

“Right,” his father agreed from behind the paper.

There was silence for a few seconds, during which he really hoped Beth would come back. But no.

“So.” His mom’s attention drifted as she paused. “Are you really marrying that girl?”

“That girl, mother? Do you mean my fiancée?” He could hear his own voice hardening.

“Now, don’t be like that. You know Sadie has Henrietta at the wedding for you, don’t you? In the hopes you’d get back together with her.”

He laughed at her. “Mother, I think you’re projecting. Harry is Sadie’s best friend; that’s why she’s at the wedding. And I can tell you that she has zero thoughts about getting back together with me. That is all in your head.”

“No it isn’t, darling. Is it so wrong that we want you to make the perfect match? Besides, we never imagined for a second you’d show up with a fiancée. Why would we? We’d never heard a word about her before you dropped that bombshell on us.”

“Mom. Please don’t interfere. I love her, and I’m going to marry her.” As the words came out of his mouth, for a second, one true sweet second, he wanted them to be true.

“Well, you’ll have to explain that to Harry. I’m afraid she’s under the impression that you’re still up for grabs.” His mother carefully stirred her tea, not touching the sides of the cup with her spoon at all. With a practiced swipe, she replaced the spoon on the saucer, knitted her hands together and considered him levelly.

“I introduced Harry to Beth yesterday. She does not think I’m up for grabs. Nothing could be further from her mind.” Of anything in the world, he was at least sure of that.

“And I’m perfectly sure she doesn’t. Well, at least she’s never known exactly what she wants, and without parents of her own, it’s the least we can do to look after her.” She sniffed. “Harry told me that you were buying a lot of clothes at the mall. That makes me somewhat suspicious. But whatever you say, dear. Remember. You’re getting old. Soon there will only be divorcées for you to choose from. No one wants that.”

James pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. “Mom. I just want a nice weekend with my family. I want you to like Beth as much as I do, and maybe, if you behave, and don’t make her feel in any way awkward, I will invite you to our small wedding in North Carolina. And you will show up, be very nice, and welcome her to the family. Are we clear?”

“Whatever you say, James.” Except the way she said it was definitely in a placating tone, rather than a sincere one. His father hadn’t even acknowledged the conversation, so deep inside his newspaper was he.

James wished Beth would come back. He was hungry but didn’t want to eat without her. And of course, her very presence would stop this line of conversation for good. He hoped. Sweet Jesus, he was twenty-seven years old, and still, with a look, his mother could make him feel like a six-year-old who’d turned up for dinner with dirty hands.

And this? This was why he’d never had any intention of coming to Sadie’s wedding.

* * *

Maisie took Beth up the same staircase that Mrs. Walker had descended when she’d accused Beth of being the “help.” The memory made her smile.

The second floor of the house was split two ways from the staircase, with a few doors on each side of the opposing hallways.

Maisie took her left, past the first door. “That’s Sadie’s room when she’s home.” She pointed at a door on the opposite side, a bit farther down. “That’s James’s room. Have you seen it yet?”

“Not yet, no,” Beth said. “But I’m a lot more anxious to see your boots.”

It was the right thing to say. Maisie giggled. “Cool. This is my room.” She opened the door and barged ahead of Beth, who smiled in her wake.

Her bedroom was huge, with three double windows along the length of it that overlooked the front gardens, down toward the security booth. The walls were a gunmetal gray and covered with posters of rock bands.

At the end of the room, farthest away from the door, were two doorways—one a closet and one a bathroom. Beth knew this because the bathroom door was open, with two wet towels strewn on the floor on the threshold; the closet door was also open, with shoes and books decorating the floor, making it impossible to close that door either. Maisie reminded her so much of Tammer when she was younger. Her heart squeezed.

“They’re here,” Maisie said, reaching into her bed sheets.

“You slept with them?” Beth laughed at her.

“I didn’t want them to get all scratched up before the wedding. Although I don’t think I’ll be allowed to wear them now.” She sounded so sad, Beth couldn’t help but sympathize. Tammer had been the same way—full of tantrums and fights which could mostly be calmed with some interest in whatever had annoyed her. Looking at James’s parents, she wasn’t sure if sometimes no parents were better than parents who were too busy to pay attention to their kids.

“You know what I would do?” Beth said with a conspiratorial air.

“No?” Maisie sniffed and watched Beth stroke the boots.

“Okay, is your bridesmaid dress a long one?”

“Uh-huh,” Maisie began to unlace the boots carefully.

“Agree to wear whatever shoes they want you to wear, then just before the wedding change into the boots. No one will notice anyway, and if they do, it will be too late to do anything about it.” She knew full well that she wasn’t giving her entirely sterling advice, but she saw so much Tammer in her that she just wanted to hug her and make everything better.

“Oh my God, that’s an excellent idea. I probably would have done that anyway.” She sniffed again and shot a glance at Beth.

“I bet you would. And this way, there will be no arguments, and you can tell them that I said it was okay, and they won’t say anything to me because I’m a guest.” She certainly hoped that was true. One of the adults in the family was certainly going to kill her for this.