Authors: Billi Jean
Safe in His Arms (37 page)
Lights exploded behind her eyes. She could barely speak, the pleasure was so intense, but she managed to when he froze. “Yes, oh, God, yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please, Mac.”
His body tightened against hers. Then, with a low groan, he let loose, beginning a harder, deeper possession that blew her away. Her body took off, spiralling out of control, and shuddered through a multitude of orgasms as he possessed her. His passionate assault tore her away from the troubles trying to fill her life and filled her with him instead. He held her tighter and tighter as he rolled and bucked his hips, breathless and panting as he told her he loved her, needed her, wanted her forever.
She fell deeper, surrounded by Mac, and gasped as he stiffened with an agonised sound, and she felt the hot flash of his cum. He tightened the hand he had cupping her pussy and desperately he found her nipple and sucked her breast into his hot mouth, drawing on her as he filled her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It took forever for the room to stop spinning and when it did Mac felt so at peace, so full of hope, life and happiness, that he laughed softly against Mandy’s breast. When he could pull his head up enough to look at her she was flushed, her face hectic with their passions. “Mandy.”
“Mac.”
“I love you.”
She hugged him tight, grumbling into his throat when he carefully pulled his cock from her body.
“Oh, fuck you’re going to kill me.” He hovered over her, still breathless.
“No, but I am going to be a very, very bad girl as often as I can be.”
He blinked down at her lazy smile and frowned at her. “Why’s that?”
She laughed. “So I can get another spanking, of course.”
He hung his head and groaned into her breasts again. Did she know how much that tore him up? To know she could simply say what she felt, not worry with him what he might think? Maybe he’d got through to her at last. He hoped so, because Mandy hot and wild was something he wanted often—daily.
She wiggled under him and rubbed a soft hand over his ribs and up to his nipples.
“Ah, damn, don’t start that already, sugar.”
He caught her hand and kissed it.
“You like that as much as I do?”
“Oh, hell, I love everything you do to me. I’m a lucky man, baby. Don’t think I don’t know it.”
Sobering, he lifted his head to look down at her. She tilted her head on the white sheets and examined his face. His heart filled, nearly to bursting his chest from the feel of it. “I’d give you any damn thing you ever wanted, but it won’t ever make up for you loving me. Having me.” He brushed her curls back. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No, Mac, that’s not true. You do deserve me. All of me. Don’t you understand yet?”
He lowered his eyebrows, confused. “Understand what, Mandy?”
She swallowed, suddenly looking close to tears. “You’ve been mine since that first night, Mac. I’ve always known it. I belong here”—she tugged him down until he held her gently to his chest. He pulled her tight and leant back on the headboard, simply holding her. After a while, she leaned up to look up at him—“in your arms, Mac. This is where I belong. And you”—she smiled at him past the tears she was fighting—“you belong in mine.”
He stared at her for a long, silent minute then rolled them to the side and dislodged her. He had to do this now. She was his and damn if he’d wait another minute. He opened the drawer in the bedside table and pulled out the ring he’d bought her over five years ago. He grabbed her tiny hand and slid the gold and diamond band over her finger.
Swallowing once to dislodge the dust in his throat, he told her, “That’s why you’re going to marry me.”
She blinked over at him. Then she took the ring off and threw it at his head.
“Holy shit!” He dived for it, barely able to get past the fact that she’d thrown it at him, let alone deal with her yelling at him.
“Macalister Stevens! You did not just order me to marry you.”
He froze in his hunt for the ring and looked up. How the hell did she know his first name when he’d not known hers? Suddenly heat crept up his neck. Shit, he had ordered her to marry him, hadn’t he? Well, it wasn’t like they weren’t getting married.
“Look, you and I know you’re marrying me, Mandy. It’s not like—”
“Oh, I don’t think so. That is not the way this is happening, Mac.”
She made it as far as the bathroom before he caught her and turned her around in his arms.
He blinked down at her and grimaced at the hurt he saw in her expression. He’d fucked this up. Her grey eyes were dark. She looked hurt and angry.
Way to go, Mac. She just finally opens up to you completely and you blow it.
Taking a deep breath, he caught her hand in his.
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted in my life. I’ll love you for the rest of my time on this earth. I find more peace in your presence than I could anywhere else on this godforsaken planet. I need you. I need you like I need oxygen, Mandy. Marry me, please.”
A rush of tears filled her eyes at his words.
“Don’t cry!” he said. He couldn’t bare it when she cried.
She scrunched her face up. “I’m trying not to!”
He brushed her curls off her flushed face and touched their foreheads. “Baby, you make it all worth it, all of it. This, life, everything. Say you’ll marry me and I swear to you, I’ll be the happiest damn man in the world. And I’ll make you happy too, sugar. I won’t even order you, except in bed, okay?”
She shook her head and grinned. “Mac, if you can keep that promise you just might get your daily dose.”
He threw his head back, hugged her tight, and laughed.
“I love you.” Her whisper was low, but he heard her.
“I love you too, baby. Just you, M & M. I might need to get that tattoo too, huh?”
“Only if you put it on your sexy butt.”
He laughed again. “Oh, I have a sexy butt, huh?”
He hauled her up in his arms and kicked the bathroom door open. “Shower time then we nap, then more sex, dinner, more sex, dessert, can be me or you, or both, then more—”
“Sex?” She kissed his jaw, nipped along his throat to his chest, giving him ideas he just knew she’d like. “I think that sounds great.”
“Then marry me.”
Laughing, she nodded. His breath left him on a heavy exhale of pure relief. He wasn’t lying to her. He’d not make it without her. She was a part of him. She’d shown him that. He’d never survive without her teasing looks and the love he saw deep in her eyes. Now that he knew what it looked like, he didn’t think there was a time he’d not seen it shining there, in her grey eyes.
“I will marry you, Mac. And I will make you happy. And you will make me happy. And our babies will be happy too.”
“Whoa, sugar, babies?”
She brought his hand down to her flat stomach and his heart felt like it stalled at ninety miles an hour, then raced back up to one hundred and ninety. Shit. Shit. “Damn.”
“No secrets, right?” she whispered.
He braced a hand on the shower wall and his other hand against hers and simply stared down at her. Her body was so beautiful, he couldn’t imagine how much more beautiful she’d be pregnant. She would be too. Soft and round with…oh, shit. A baby.
“A baby.”
She nodded quickly, that teasing tip to her lips telling him he was being a jarhead.
“Holy hell, sugar. We made a baby?” His knees suddenly felt all weak, like he’d better sit before he fell on his ass.
She nodded. “That happens when you make love like rabbits. Are you upset?”
Upset? She’d just made his day—hell, year. Life. A little Mandy running around, sweet and cute as hell.
“Shit no, sugar, I’m…” He paused and grinned down at her. “Think of all the pregnant sex you’ll need.”
“Mac!”
Suddenly he remembered what he’d wanted to talk to her about today.
Rob
.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
How the hell did he tell her that her brother was alive? He stumbled back and gripped his head. She’d kill him. Possibly hate him. Maybe even cry again. Shit.
“What? What is it?”
She looked near panicked, so he pulled his shit together. “Ah, I’m an asshole. A stupid asshole. I tried, you have to believe me, I tried to tell you but this is hard, it’s messed up and—”
“Mac? What is it?”
He looked up at her, met her eyes, then leant back and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t tell her when she was looking at him so concerned. “Your brother’s alive.”
He felt her hand fall limp against his chest and looked down at her to see he’d shocked her.
No shit, asshole
. Quickly he took her hand and gripped it tightly.
“I didn’t find out until a few months ago myself. He’d been hurt, but not killed. They used him, and—” He broke off to pull her closer. She looked terrified. “Damn, baby, don’t look like that.”
She nodded but he could tell she was struggling.
“Mandy, come here, baby, you’re cold.” He pulled her into the shower and guided her under the spray. “Shit, I screwed this all up, didn’t I? I won’t have secrets from you. I tried to tell you back at the hotel—right before we got hit by those darts. I tried, but do you understand how hard that was, knowing this and knowing it was going to hurt you?”
She nodded. God, he couldn’t stand to see her so hurt. She blinked several times, but the tears hovered in her eyes, not falling like he knew they would. She loved Robert, the bastard didn’t deserve her.
“He loves you. That man, your brother, he loves you. It tore him up to see me, to hear you were missing, but my bets are on him knowing exactly where you’ve been and unable to break his oaths to whoever the guys were who got him out of there. You have to believe that, sugar. He loves you.”
Mandy nodded then asked, “Does Ace know?”
Mac nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed heavily and tugged her against him. She was still chilly. “A few of us were called in to dig his ass out in a mission that went wrong.”
He felt her stiffen, then she stood away enough to plant both her hands on his chest. She had that look as if she was working up to something so he simply waited. No doubt, he’d get thrown in there a bit, but one thing he knew about Mandy. She forgave, too easily maybe, but she forgave.
“My brother isn’t invited to the wedding. We’ll announce it and he’ll show up. The arrogant jerk.” She laughed on a sob and Mac tightened his arms around her.
“Sure, baby, we will. He’ll see.” He rubbed her back and held her silently. She cried softly but he could tell she was over the shock, so he simply held her.
“Jerk—not you, Rob. He’s such a jerk!”
He pulled up to look down at her. “I kicked his ass. He tried to kick mine for losing you, but I wiped the floor with his ass.”
She shook her head and smiled up at him. “I hope you did.” Sniffing she shrugged a shoulder and he tried hard not to watch how hot her breasts looked when she did that. “I can understand, kinda.”
He blinked and rubbed her hair back from her face. “How’s that, baby? He’s your brother.”
“He’s a SEAL. He was never mine after that. You weren’t either.”
He shook his head hard. She still didn’t get it, his little scaredy cat. “That’s not true. You don’t get it yet, do you, sugar?”
She scrunched her nose up and gave him a confused look.
“I was wasting time until you grew up. I had a hard-on for you when you were fifteen and that shit isn’t right.”
A surprised laugh burst from her after a second, as if she didn’t believe him.
“You did?”
“Baby, you have no idea how bad that made me feel, shit’s not funny,” he grumbled.
“Oh, Mac.” She kissed his chest and rested her head against his heart. “I love you so much. Tell me you’ll call him, and tell him what a jerk he is and he had better not miss my wedding. I need someone to give me away.”
Mac tipped her head up and stared down at her. God, he loved this woman. “Baby, no one can give you away.”
“Oh, Mac.” Tears stood out in her eyes, drowning the grey until they spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
“Shh, don’t cry, Mandy. Don’t you know, nothing in this world is better to me, than knowing you want to be mine? We’ll get hold of Rob, but you, you’re mine.”
“Always, Mac. I always will be.”
“In my arms,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her. Everything disappeared until Rob, the shower, the room, everything but him, and her safe in his arms was all she needed—wanted—and finally had.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Sisterhood of Jade: A Spartan’s Kiss
Billi Jean
Excerpt
Chapter One
The silence of the night settled over Tabithia as she waited.
The witching hour could hide almost anything. Things a person couldn’t obscure in the harsh light of day.
She was good at hiding. Had to be. None of her close friends knew what she concealed beneath the surface of her adrenaline-junkie escapades. Not even her aunts knew that, beneath her skin, she hid the revulsion clawing at her. Why should they? People had burdens. Burdens they managed alone. Hers were no different. And they were easier to hide in the dimness of the midnight hours. Night allowed the edges of darkness within her to melt into forgetfulness. Black was, in fact, her favourite colour.
She should have been born a vampire, not a witch.
Sadly, no. She was one of the Wiccan, a Daughter of the Three. She wasn’t one of those goodie-two-shoes, can’t-hurt-anyone witches. Oh, no. Her ancient coven believed in survival. Survival meant being so badass no one messed with you. She had the badass down to a T.
For all the good it did her.
Tabithia hunkered further down in her crouch, as a runner glittering with reflectors, ran by with her music blaring. She winced. Clearly, the runner had no regard for her ears. Or herself. Aged buildings, paint peeling and splashed with colourful graffiti, lined a street full of potholes and trash, yet a woman ran by with her ear buds blocking out any sound other than her music? Humans. Tab never would understand them.
She really wanted to curse her aunt, Circerran, nicknamed Trouble, for getting her out here. By now, Tabithia could be drinking at One Eye’s immortal tavern or racing her way-too-expensive but fantastic Ecosse road bike with other immortals. Instead, she waited until the jogger disappeared before craning her neck around the building’s brick corner to peer down the murky street. Cursing wasn’t her thing, anyway. Too many people just didn’t get that a curse could come back and bite you in the ass. She did. Oh, yeah, she got that, so no cursing for her.
Several minutes passed, and no one else appeared. Not surprising since even a stray cat wouldn’t wander through this neighbourhood so late at night. The runner lacked common sense. Still, Tabithia didn’t trust her eyesight alone. Magic could flow beneath the surface of almost anything from a poisoned apple to a slum neighbourhood street. With one more glance behind and to both sides of her, she leaned a hand on the rough brick wall and focused her inner eye, which revealed nothing more than the shadows of the cars she’d already spotted parked along both sides of the street.
Tabithia watched a second more before letting the witch sight fade, leaving her alone in the shadows once again. Hunger, not for food, but for the feel of others around her, beat at her. Restlessness burned along her body. Her muscles ached from holding them tightly bunched and ready for action—action wasn’t happening on a street corner.
I could be out partying. Drinking it up. But no. Trouble calls and I have to answer.
True. She always would, too, no doubt.
So, party time would have to wait. Instead she waited, while the darkness inside her built higher and higher. The need to ease the pain blistered along her senses grew, and she knew, just knew that only more pain could ease the beast clawing within her.
She drew her butterfly knife and balanced the double-sided blade by its tip between her two fingers, flicked the scissor-like sheath along her knuckles and spun the silver blade over and between her fingers. The cool weight of steel comforted her. The sharp edge provided the pain that would ease the memories. She watched the silver blur as she twisted her wrist and let the razor-sharp blade glide over her knuckles before snapping the two sections of the hilt in her hand. The urge to screw up the rhythm of her knife play surged through her. With more effort than she felt comfortable with, she steadied her hand and began another round of flip and catch, until she could control her breathing.
Trouble would be there soon
“Well? What’s up? Any news?”
Shit! Tabithia clenched her fist around the smooth hilt of her knife, just barely stopping herself from yelping at aunt’s soft whisper near her ear.
She hated when Trouble caught her by surprise. No doubt her observant aunt had done it on purpose, too. Not many could get the drop on her, but when Trouble did, her aunt always enjoyed it to the max. Aggravating didn’t even begin to describe her aunt.
Not bothering to turn, since she could sense her aunt’s grin without the humiliation of actually seeing it, she took her time to pocket her knife, trying to summon the patience to deal with her aunt’s cheerfulness. “Nada. Should there be? Is this going to take all night? I do have a party—”
“Please. You always have a party. This pays the bills. Right?”
Tabithia had enough money set aside to pay for her partying from here to eternity—if she ever had to pay for her partying. Trouble? Gobs more. Her aunt stockpiled money like a squirrel packing a tree full of nuts for the next ice age.
When she grumbled again, Trouble laughed. Tabithia reluctantly turned around to confront her, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Her aunt’s eyes sparkled with happiness. She always sparkled—tonight proved to be no exception. Dressed in a white T-shirt with the words ‘More Cowbell’ scrolled across her breasts, black hip-hugger jeans tucked into knee-high black boots, she looked more like a hip rocker chick than a deadly spell-caster. She winked when Tabithia met her eye.
“Caught ya, didn’t I?”
“Nah, I knew you were on your way.”
Trouble’s grin widened, but she dropped the issue. “Yeah, anyways, chica, this one will be worth the wait.”
Like Tabithia hadn’t heard that before.
She ignored Trouble’s huffed laugh. A woman who looked like her aunt shouldn’t be able to get them into such trouble. Her ivory skin, high cheekbones, wide, green eyes, cute, little, pink bow mouth, and heart-shaped face simply looked like they belonged on some supermodel, not an adrenaline junkie hooked on mad escapades. Gorgeous, waist-length, burgundy hair Tabithia would die for—or kill to have—framed all that beauty into something breathtaking.
Yeah, her aunt made her feel like a watered-down carbon copy. She hated that.
“So? What’s the take?”
Trouble placed a long, red-nailed finger over her pink lips and whispered, “Shh, you’ll see.”
Tabithia turned back to the street, holding in a growl of frustration.
Several uncomfortable seconds later, Trouble said, “You’re no fun anymore, Tabbie-cat.”
“Huh.”
Her aunt rocked against her shoulder, trying to break her out of her black mood. No luck. She’d tried all week to jump-start herself out of the gloominess currently weighing her down. The darkness beat a painful rhythm inside, demanding more recognition the longer she ignored it. Action. Pain. No amount of teasing would ease what she had going on.
“Aw, come on. Lighten up.”
She blinked.
“I’m light.” Did she sound defensive? “Just what’s up? I hate it when you don’t tell me the deets. I’ve been waiting here for you all night and now you pop in and don’t explain a thing. I hate that.”
Silence met her outburst. Heat warmed her face. She suddenly felt clumsy, awkward, as if she stood naked in a room of strangers. Her outburst wasn’t her style. But more and more she felt frustration building and blowing when she didn’t concentrate on keeping a tight lid on it. Along with hot, blistering self-hatred, now she had temper tantrums to worry about. She bit her lip, knowing that no matter how hard she tried to ignore herself, her body, her stupid life and, even more, her stupid dreams, she couldn’t seem to keep that lid on tight enough. Something horrible always slithered out from under the lid. Tabithia needed to feel the bite of steel, see the blood, and block the images ready to swallow her whole before the memories dragged her back to a small, dark, dirty room filled with horror.
“There’s going to be a silver BMW Z9 coming down the street in about two minutes. The driver’s going to be a vampire. He has a case. In the case is a diamond, and that, Tabbie-cat, is what we’re after. He’s an amateur. Totally. Took the diamond from some very upset folks. So? We’re on a fetch and carry.”
It took Tabithia a full second to soak up the flood her aunt had just spilled.
“Huh.”
Another silence settled between them.
Behind her, her aunt shuffled her feet on the dirty pavement. “If I’d known you wanted in, I would have told you the deets. I didn’t think you really—”
The sound of screeching tyres and a revved-up engine interrupted the embarrassing apology. The mark had arrived.
Adrenaline flushed through Tabithia, exceeding any drug ever created, and quickly shoved the darkness back where it belonged. “Game on.”
Trouble nodded. “True. You stop the car. I’ll distract. You take the case. Meet me in two hours. My place.”
Not bothering to answer, Tabithia began her spell, drawing energy and power from the cool night air to add impact to the murmured words. Eyes focused on the street, she gathered up a small breeze and loaded on some strength, creating a small, but potent cyclone of dirt and debris. A silver little beauty roared into view and nearly upended when the driver tried to avoid getting dirt on his pretty sports model.
In the midst of the burned rubber and smoke, Trouble walked out from her hidden location by the wall. She’d used her magic to transform her T-shirt and jeans into a white, low-cut sheath dress, hugging her ass like a glove and barely covering it as she strutted over the uneven ground like a runway model. Hand up, faking a phone call, Trouble appeared oblivious to the screeching tyres and windstorm.
Tabithia grinned. Only her aunt could pull off something like this.
When Trouble reached the edge of the storm, she spun as if just realising she was facing impending death by sports car.
Classic, really. Tabithia settled in for the show.
Trouble turned on the glam like the best Hollywood actress ever to grace the big screen. Eyes wide, she gasped like a little schoolgirl and trembled in her four-inch heels.
Tabithia hit her with more wind, sending Trouble’s long, burgundy curls flying. Trouble dropped her fake phone and covered half her face. Her eyes rounded out in shock at the car barrelling towards her on a sideways scream of rubber, and if she’d been human, she’d have been in big trouble.
But if the driver had been human, he would have just killed a defenceless-looking woman with his million-dollar baby.
Tabithia still winced and her body tightened in preparation for a disaster. The driver fought the car, beating it into a path angled away from Trouble, hitting a kerb, crashing sideways into a tan sedan and jerking to a halt, mere inches from her aunt.
Trouble faked the showgirl to a T with a scream that any B-movie actress would die for. Hands over her mouth, green eyes glistening with unshed tears, she looked scared out of her mind.
The vampire nearly tore the car door off trying to get out. Big, dark-haired and looking more like a Wall Street broker in a pinstriped suit than a vampire, he held his palms out in front of his chest, face set in concern and no little amount of panic.
Trouble stumbled and appeared on the verge of fainting. The vampire must have taken that as the real deal, because he raced to Trouble and caught her in his arms. Her aunt shrieked and clutched onto him as though she might fall without him. Tabithia thought she heard him swear. He took Trouble by the shoulders, appearing to check if she had suffered any harm. Her aunt broke down, gasping in fake fear, and clung to the guy like a vine. Vamps could sense a witch’s power, so he had to recognise her as a witch, but he must have thought her one weak little Wicca, because he patted her back and stroked her hair like a real Good Samaritan.