Bait & Switch

by Kendall Ryan

  Clearly she didn’t give a flying fuck about what I wanted. Her half-baked plan was more important than my right to make my own choices.

  Except that wasn’t quite true, was it? Maybe she hadn’t cared when she met me, but her apology just now had seemed sincere. She hadn’t shied away from the ugly truth, hadn’t tried to downplay or rationalize her mistakes. I could tell how deeply sorry she was.

  And then she’d said . . .

  I knocked back the rest of my shot and poured another.

  She was in love with me. And the most fucked-up thing of all? I believed her. I could feel that she was telling the truth. If she really didn’t care about me, she would have either abandoned me or tried to guilt-trip me into staying her boyfriend. Instead, she had looked me in the eye and asked me what she should do next. Giving me this new choice couldn’t make up for all the choices she’d stolen from me, but it was still a peace offering. An attempt to show that she understood how I felt.

  I could tell Lacey that I never wanted to see her again. Hell, I could probably tell her to leave town by sunrise. It’s all up to you, her remorseful blue eyes had said. Whatever you need.

  No matter how pissed I felt, no matter how badly Lacey wanted atonement, there was one tie that couldn’t be broken: I loved her back. She had made me feel things I never thought possible. She had shown me so much. Made me want to risk so much.

  Every relationship was flawed somehow. Nobody was perfect, and putting two imperfect people together wouldn’t magically fix them.

  I couldn’t deny that I still wanted her in my life. And while I hadn’t lied to Lacey, I had acted pretty fucking childish—clinging to Daniella, desperately trying to ignore my growing feelings, unwilling to face anything that might shake up my life. Could I really bring myself to leave Lacey just when I’d finally worked up the courage to commit to her?

  The fallout from her lies had been bad, no question, but it didn’t necessarily have to end our relationship. It wasn’t something we couldn’t overcome. Provided that Lacey was serious about earning back my trust, and it really seemed like she was . . .

  I wanted to give her another chance.

  Immediately a weight lifted off my shoulders. This was the right decision; I could feel it. Although I was pretty sure her father was going to freak out. Speaking of which, I owed him a phone call. About thirty minutes ago.

  Fuck.

  Barton answered on the second ring. “Status?”

  “The takedown was a success. Your daughter is safe.” I heard a noise that might have been a tired sigh of relief. “She’s here with me for the night in my home. And the police should apprehend the kidnappers soon, if they haven’t done so already.”

  “Excellent work, Maxwell. I’ll expect a full debriefing tomorrow morning.”

  Before Barton could hang up, I interrupted. “There’s something else, sir.” The honorific slipped out, but I didn’t correct myself; I needed all the ass-kissing I could muster for this next part. “I, um, didn’t know that Lacey was your daughter. I mean, I didn’t know Lacey and Lucky were the same person.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how asinine I sounded.

  Evidently Barton agreed. “What the hell are you talking about? Lucky’s her nickname.”

  “Well, it turns out, we kind of . . .”

  I rubbed my forehead, which was starting to get damp. This man was well-armed, well-connected, and knew how to use high-powered rifles with deadly precision.

  Fuck, I’d rather be back at the drug house getting knifed in the gut.

  “We have a history,” I finally bit out.

  A moment of silence. I swore I could feel the air temperature drop.

  Then Barton replied stiffly, “I’m listening.”

  Oh shit. I had a maximum of ten seconds to explain myself before I was as good as dead. “I met her in a local bar about a month ago. She called herself Lacey, so I didn’t know she was your daughter. And we became . . . close. Romantically.” I almost choked on that last word.

  “Why are you telling me this? I fail to see its relevance to your assignment.”

  I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “It’s not relevant, sir. But now that I know she’s your daughter, I wanted to ask your blessing to date her.”

  There was another moment of silence. This one, though, I couldn’t read at all.

  And then Barton laughed. It was only a chuckle, a short, gravelly huff, but it was still the most laughter I’d ever heard from him. “It’s not my permission you need, son. Although, for what it’s worth, I think my daughter could do much worse than you.”

  Before I could think of a response, he hung up.

  I stared stupidly at the phone in my hand. She could do worse, huh? Coming from Barton, that was pretty high praise. Then again, Troy the dead druggie wasn’t exactly a high bar to clear.

  “Did you really mean that?”

  I startled and turned around. Lacey stood at the entrance to the kitchen, blinking at me, the tentative beginnings of a smile on her lips. She was wearing my thin plaid bathrobe; it hung on her small frame, showing her creamy collarbones and the slightest swell of cleavage. Her wet hair, so dark it looked black, clung in tendrils on her neck and shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed from the hot water. Her eyes were huge, making her look vulnerable, and I had to tear my gaze away before I kissed her.

  “Yeah, I meant it,” I muttered.

  She fiddled with the robe’s sash, fighting her grin. “So . . . you still want to be my . . .”

  Sighing, I nodded. Her face lit up and I hurried to add, “But I don’t know if I know how. With Daniella, I never . . . we never dealt in feelings.” Or at least, not the depth of emotion I had suddenly found myself drowning in.

  “We can learn how to do this together. I know I have a lot of ground to make up for. I should have told you everything from the start; I know that now.”

  I nodded. “I get that you had your reasons for concealing the truth. People do strange things when they feel threatened. And besides, you told me in the beginning you were running from something. I chose not to press you. Maybe, unconsciously . . . I wanted to stay in blissful ignorance. Blind myself to anything that could have gotten in the way of us.”

  “Us. Just us? So Daniella’s gone?” Lacey turned her head toward the empty bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “She’s really gone.”

  “Are you . . . okay with that?” She chewed on her lower lip, waiting for me to respond.

  “Yes. I held on to her for too long. I thought at first it was because she needed me, but in a strange way, I guess I needed her too. It was time.”

  Lacey nodded. “I understand. You were scared.”

  I didn’t deny her accusation. A big badass SEAL shouldn’t be scared of anything. But love? Yeah, that scared the shit out of me.

  “I’m not used to being someone’s boyfriend. There’s a good chance I’ll fuck this up.” Better that she know that now.

  A crooked smile graced her lips. “You’re probably better at it than you think.” Lacey pondered for a moment. “What’s your first instinct right now?”

  “To make sure you’re okay,” I said immediately. And beat the ever-loving fuck out of those men who touched you.

  “That’s perfect.” With a gentle smile, she stepped into the kitchen. “I’m a little shaken up, but nothing serious. What would your next instinct be?”

  I licked my lips. I could smell the faintest whiff of something familiar; Lacey must have used my shampoo. She was wearing my clothes and my scent. All the hesitant, confused voices in my head suddenly went quiet, letting me hear what I really wanted.

  Smiling back at her, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “To take you to bed and not let you out until morning.”

  My woman stepped forward again, so close I could feel her warmth. “That’s perfect too.”

  She squeaked with surprise when I swept her up into my arms. Leaving my doubts behind along with my whiskey glass, I carrie
d Lacey down the hall to my bedroom, where we had never been together. This was our chance to start over. To empty us both of all our mistakes, all our moments of foolish weakness, and refill each other with our devotion.

  For a minute after I laid her on the bed, I just stared at her, enraptured. The robe had fallen open and she lay propped up on her elbows, shapely legs outstretched. She looked like a Renaissance painting of Aphrodite, all alabaster curves and wide eyes and luxurious dark tresses. Delicate, soft . . . and hungry. The shyness in her smile had been overcome by desire.

  No man alive could ignore that invitation.

  Joining her on the bed, I pulled her into a deep, fiery kiss. My hands pushed under her robe to explore the naked, damp body beneath. I needed to touch every part of her, make sure she really was okay, that she wasn’t some mirage. My fingers trailed down her back, along the tender dip where her spine lay hidden, and slid over the curve of her ass. She sighed and opened her mouth to me, brushing my tongue with hers.

  I rocked my hips, letting her feel how hard I was already, and she rewarded me with a husky murmur. I licked and bit at her neck—just under her ear, in the crook of her shoulder, all the spots I’d learned to make her squirm.

  She mewled softly and clutched at my waist with one hand, rumpling the back of my shirt. I pulled back just enough to rip it off, then pressed my bare chest against her again, reveling in the feel of her velvety skin and ripe breasts.

  When she reached down to unzip my jeans, my breath caught. I groaned when she gripped my aching cock through my boxers. She moaned into my mouth. We were flattened against each other so tightly that the back of her hand rubbed her own clit as she stroked me.

  I wanted to feel more, wanted us even closer, as entwined as two bodies could get. I needed to lose myself in her. My head spun with her touch, but I still starved for more—torn between the desire to devour her and the desire to go slow, to savor every inch of her body and every sweet noise of pleasure.

  “Lacey.” I breathed her name into her ear, hot and husky. “I need you.” For once in my life, I wasn’t afraid to admit it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  All she could manage was a murmured sound of agreement. But I had to hear her say it; there was no going back from this. “Tell me with your words. Are you ready for this?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “Yes, please. I want to feel you inside me.”

  I knew from personal experience that traumatic events, like the one she had gone through tonight, left you shaken and vulnerable. But I also knew one sure-fire way to stop those grim images replaying in your head and calm your frayed nerves. Sex—rough sex. I wouldn’t deny Lacey that pleasure. Even if she was bruised, even if she was still scared, I knew this would help quiet all that, if only temporarily.

  I quickly stood up to shed my jeans, grab a condom from my nightstand, and roll it on. Then I knelt between her legs, unhurried. We’d waited so long for this moment; I wouldn’t rush it.

  She raised her hips to meet me, so eager. Her heat practically burned me through the thin latex barrier.

  “Slow, sweetheart.”

  She seemed to understand. Her hand circled the base of my cock, guiding me forward carefully. I kissed her neck, her breasts, her lips as she brought the head to her wet opening. I couldn’t stop my hips from rocking forward, easing into her just the slightest bit.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes closed, drawing a slow, shaky breath.

  “I want you to watch. See how pretty this tight little cunt looks taking me.”

  Her eyes opened, and she gazed down at where our bodies joined. It was a perfect sight. Two bodies, damp with perspiration, her slick pink folds invitingly parted for my thick cock. I worked myself in another inch.

  “So tight . . . so warm.” I groaned, bringing my mouth to her neck again and sucking hard.

  “Nolan,” she cried. “More.”

  Hips thrusting forward, I slid inside easily. She was so wet for me, so hot and welcoming, that I groaned aloud. “Fuck, sweetheart . . .”

  She writhed, trying to take me deeper, and I obliged her. Soon my cock had bottomed out. I locked eyes with Lacey as I pulled out, then slowly pushed back inside again, watching to make sure I wouldn’t hurt her.

  But she was more than ready. “Stop teasing me,” she gasped. She was flushed all the way from her cheeks to her collarbone.

  I threw aside my careful control and thrust in hard. She keened and bucked up to meet me. Bingo. I gripped her hips and started pumping in earnest, making sure to hit that same magic spot each time.

  I buried my face back into the crook of her neck, muttering her name like worship against her skin. I couldn’t communicate how I felt about her; this was bigger than words, bigger than anything, and I had never really learned how to share my feelings anyway. I didn’t even know where to start. All I could do was show her.

  For tonight, this pleasure was enough. We would write our love into each other’s bodies, where it couldn’t be misunderstood.

  I pulled her legs up over my shoulders and she moaned at the new, deeper angle—then whimpered when I rubbed her clit with the heel of my hand. As much as I wanted to stay close, I wanted to make Lacey come even more, which required a little maneuvering room.

  Her calves trembled over my shoulders and her fingers dug into the sheets. She was definitely getting close.

  “Come for me, baby,” I panted. “Please, let me see you.” Her pussy fluttered in anticipation and I gritted my teeth, willing my cock to hold off just a little longer.

  She stared up at me as if I was her whole world. As if she was trying to tell me that we felt exactly the same way about each other. Then her sapphire eyes slid shut. My name fell from her lips in desperate little murmurs. Her cries keened higher, higher, until all her muscles locked around me and she sobbed with pleasure.

  “That’s it, baby,” I encouraged as she clutched at me, her whole body shaking.

  The sight of Lacey unraveling pushed me over the edge. With a deep groan, I let myself fall hard, my cock throbbing in long, sweet jolts of release.

  When I could bring myself to let her go, I threw away the condom. Then I spooned behind her, nestling my nose in her still-damp hair and pulling her back against my chest. My arm fit perfectly into the dip of her waist. I could feel her heart beating just inches away from mine.

  Soon her breathing slowed into a low, soothing rhythm. I had never made love before; I had never slept with a woman in my arms. It was the deepest peace I’d felt in a long time.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lacey

  I woke up sweating and blinked open one eye. I was hot, way too hot, and I soon found out why. Draped across one side of my body was Nolan’s heavy arm. Sutton was snuggled up on my other side.

  “Let me up.” I shoved against Nolan’s prone form.

  He grumbled something and scrubbed a hand across his face.

  “You okay, baby?” His voice was husky with sleep.

  “Yes. I have to pee,” I announced, climbing over him to the end of the bed.

  I heard him chuckle and the covers rustle as I padded, naked, into the bathroom.

  The tiles were cold on my bare feet and the light overhead too bright. Glancing up into the mirror above the sink, I saw that my hair was a crazy mess from sleeping on it damp, but otherwise, I looked fine. There was a faint bruise on my hip, and a pink mark on the inside of my wrist where the zip tie had cut into the skin.

  After relieving myself, I washed my hands and splashed cool water on my face, then headed back to bed.

  When I returned to the bedroom, I expected to find a sleeping Nolan and Sutton still curled up on the mattress. But the bed was empty, and they were gone. I could hear Nolan talking on the phone in the other room. It sounded like he was talking to Greyson . . . about last night.

  “So they’re locked up awaiting trial? No bond?” Nolan asked, and then listened intently. “Great news, brother.” He seemed pleas
ed by what he heard.

  I could only imagine what kind of strings my dad had pulled; those guys who took me wouldn’t see the light of day for years to come. Decades, if I knew my father’s reach and tenacity.

  I pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. Nolan’s spot was still warm and I smiled, closing my eyes.

  The scent of coffee brewing in the kitchen wafted into the bedroom. Seconds later, Nolan was back.

  “You feeling okay?” he asked, sitting down beside me.

  “Yeah. It’s only six, though. You’re not up at this time of day for the fun of it, are you?”

  He chuckled as he stroked my hair, gazing down at me where I rested on his pillow.

  “Lord, don’t even tell me,” I grumbled.

  “What?” He practically hummed the word, he was so chipper.

  “That you’re a morning person?”

  He chuckled again. “You’re not?”

  I frowned at him. Not even a little bit.

  He shrugged, his mouth still tugged up in a grin. “What can I say? Six years in the military will do that to you. Most days, I was up at four in the morning. Now sleeping in till six feels like a luxury.”

  I made a noise of disagreement. His bed was too soft, and I felt safe. More comfortable than I’d felt in a long time.

  “Come on, I have you here in my house. We have the whole day to ourselves. You really want to sleep?”

  “Yes.” I tugged the blankets up to my chin and closed my eyes.

  Nolan laughed. “Fine, then I won’t tell you what your father said last night.”

  I opened my eyes. Shit. My dad was Nolan’s boss, and I could only imagine what had been said.

  I was sure Dad and Brynn had been blowing up my phone, but since it was likely still sitting on the counter in my apartment, Nolan had let me use his phone last night to check in with them.

  I’d promised that I was alive and in one piece. Brynn was an uncharacteristic emotional mess and wanted to fly down to Texas and see me with her own eyes, but midterms were coming up and I wouldn’t let her do that.

  There was no stopping my dad, however; he’d be arriving tomorrow. I was curious how he’d respond to Nolan in my life. It would be interesting, to say the least . . . two alpha males, both protective and unwavering in their worry for me.