by Linzi Basset
“Thank you.” His hoarse whisper was still a breath on his lips when the tentacles of darkness wrapped him in a cloak of blissful relief as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Summit Primary Care in Mont Alto in Franklin County, Pennsylvania
“Yes, Jaden, I’ll marry you.”
He became lost in the beauty of her smile, the smell of her hair as he drew her into his arms, his face almost split in two as his own lips widened joyfully.
“You have no idea how happy the thought of you as my wife makes me.” He drew back and cupped her face to kiss her lingeringly on her lips. She gazed at him with open adoration.
“How soon?” She batted her eyelids. “I don’t want to wait, Jaden. Let’s get married right away, this week,” she urged with a coy smile.
“What about the bells and whistles all women want? The breathtaking wedding gown, flowers, reception, and friends to celebrate our joining?” Jaden frowned at the flash of icy irritation in her eyes. She blinked and it was gone, so quickly, he believed he imagined it.
“I don’t want or need any of that. All I want is you and us, as man and wife. Please, honey?”
He chuckled and traced the slope of her cheek.
“You know I can’t say no to you, my love. Very well, I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll get married in court on Friday.”
She leaned into him and offered her lips for his kiss, responding with a fervor she’d never before released on him. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. Finally, the truth was out. It was him she loved; she would be his. Jack Blackmore be damned.
Jaden started awake. He kept his eyes closed, rehashing the dream that woke him. A frown drew his brows together as he recalled what Jack had said.
“She ran to you because she never believed anyone would look for her as a suburban housewife with a baby on the hip.”
“Lies, you bastard,” he whispered vehemently. His eyelids fluttered open to soak in the glowing and radiant sun peaking above the horizon through the window. It extended its vivid light across the deep crimson sky. Its dazzling and inviting rays flowed through the glass pane, providing warmth to his battered body.
He supposed the view was something the majority of people would consider beautiful, but he found it strange, hard even, to gush over an everyday occurrence. The sun wouldn’t stop rising; it had, after all, been reliably happening since the beginning of time. So, what was so special about it? He could never feel the joy from it that others did, the magic that drew so many artists and photographers in, as if they had some lens or filter he'd missed out on.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jaden, stop clawing me. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Jaden felt his heart turn heavy in his chest as one of many such memories surfaced. The kind he had banned to the deepest chambers of his soul. Now, they crawled from their prison to taunt him, slay him with the possibility that he had been blind to what was real and what he’d believed should have been. More of the same rippled with painful clarity through his mind.
His breathing became labored, it felt like a hand was tightening around his chest, threatening to squeeze the life from him. Why had he never seen it? How she had changed once she fell pregnant? She became cold, withdrawn and chilled him with calculated jabs to stab him where it hurt the most. His pride.
“You’ll never be able to give me what I need, Jaden. Not like him.” Her eyes turned dreamy as she stared into space. “Jack Blackmore. Oh, how I miss his touch.”
For the first time, he recalled the cold calculating smiles every time she taunted him with Jack. Her secret weapon.
“Maybe I didn’t know her like I thought I did. Perhaps I didn’t know her at all,” he croaked in a raw whisper.
“I see our patient is awake.”
Jaden turned his head listlessly, watching an old white-haired man walk into the room. He had the same mountain man look like Geezer Jones who had brought him to the clinic. He had a rough-edged appearance but his hands were as gentle as any woman’s.
“How do you feel, young man?” he asked as he quickly checked Jaden’s vitals and glanced at the monitor measuring his blood pressure and heart rate. “I’m glad to see your blood pressure is rising. You’ll be as fit as a fiddle in a couple of days.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait,” Jaden clipped out in a dour tone.
“Come now, none of that. You should count your lucky stars that you’re alive. I still don’t know how we managed to pull you through, what with you refusing to be transferred to a hospital with proper facilities and surgeons capable to deal with your injury.”
“Geezer had faith in you, Doc Bob, and that was good enough for me.”
“Faith can only go so far, my boy. I’m not a specialist. All I managed to do was keep you alive and treat your wounds as best I could.” He shook his head as he carefully unwrapped the bandages to check Jaden’s cheek. “Whatever caught you in the face, ripped your skin right off. I couldn’t stitch you up. It’s looking much better. I’m surprised at how quickly your strength recovered but you can’t walk around with a gaping hole in your cheek. You need reconstructive surgery and skin transplants.” He stepped back, allowing space for the nurse to clean and sterilize the wound. “Don’t give me that look, son. It has to be done … and soon.”
“I’ll attend to it as soon as I can return to Los Angeles,” Jaden said once the bandages had been replaced.
Doc Bob studied him silently. “Very well. You can start walking around from today but don’t overdo it. You don’t want a relapse.”
“I’ll be careful.”
The gray head bobbed up and down as he turned and walked away with the nurse in tow.
Jaden leaned back against the pillows. He had seen the damage to his face when he’d arrived. It had been such a shock, he’d promptly passed out again.
His sigh dragged to the roof with the heaviness of a sinking ship. There was a long road ahead until he was properly healed and by all counts, lots of reconstructive surgery. For now, he had to concentrate on building his bodily strength. Vanity could wait until he had clarity on what really happened with Maureen and his daughter. The only innocent one in this entire fucked up mess.
For that, he had to take revenge. He was only now coming to realize the truth of Jack’s claim—that Maureen had used him.
“Yes, I was a fool, but no more. I still hate you Jack but at least you have opened my eyes.”
Jaden listened to the raw pain thrilling in his voice. Deceit was a bitter pill to swallow, especially if his best friend was the maestro in the cruel twist fate had dealt him. He still found it hard to believe that Reece had anything to do with, or rather, had knowledge that Maureen was the same woman who had posed as his CI, Daphne Walker.
“I’ll get to the bottom of that, Reece, and if you did, you’re a fucking dead man.”
He closed his eyes. They popped open as another, more recent memory surfaced in his mind.
Pain seared through his brain, throbbing like a hammer beating at the side of his face. He battled to push to his feet but realized it was all in his mind. He couldn’t move, even his lips felt slack, slick with a sticky fluid that dribbled along his cheek into his mouth. He couldn’t even use his tongue to swipe at it. Fear clawed at him, threatening to consume him. A voice swam toward him, the words a blur that he struggled to understand.
“Jaden! We’ve got to go. The fucker Rhone and his bastard friends are―Jaden!”
His name registered and his eyes flickered open. Through waves of pain that almost blinded him, their eyes met. Reece stared at him, shock apparent on his face. He took a step closer, hesitated and without another word, he left.
“No! Come back. Help me, Reece! Don’t leave me here,” he screamed in his mind but not a word left his lips as he watched Jack storm toward the door that silently slid closed behind Reece.
“He left me. He left me there to die.”
The words echoed back to taunt him. He was devastated, broken, and without direction. His
mind floated aimlessly, searching for a reason, any excuse to justify Reece leaving him there, knowing he was still alive.
Now he knew what a deathblow felt like. One that took more than a chunk of flesh and bone from his cheek. It left a gaping hole, ripping asunder everything he had believed in. A friendship, a partnership that had supposedly been cast in blood, sweat, and tears, failed the one test he had never doubted once in all the years they’d been together.
Loyalty.
Chapter Fourteen
God, I’m tired.
Bruce felt the fatigue bear down on him as he walked into the kitchen after midnight. Two days, he’d spend with Ethan and Paige waiting by Jaxon’s bedside. He hadn’t been home and had showered and changed at the clinic. Jaxon had a very special place in his heart as he had been honored with godfathership over him before he was even born.
He took out a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and gulped it down thirstily as he made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He stood next to the bed and stared at the vision lying encased in the blueish beams of the moonlight shining through the window. She looked ethereal, her dark red hair in a loose plait slipped over her shoulder as she turned onto her side, curving like a lover’s hand around her breast. She was gloriously naked. Even in his tired state, he wasn’t surprised to feel the twitch in his cock as he basked in her sensual beauty. At first, she’d balked at sleeping in the nude but he had stood fast and she had conceded. It pleased him that she continued to do so even in his absence.
He dragged in a heavy sigh of regret. He didn’t have the energy now to offer her the attention she needed. With a final glance over her enticing form, he turned toward the en suite bathroom. After a quick shower, he slipped in behind her. She turned in his arms and wrapped herself around him, snuggling against his chest with one leg seductively between his and her hand tucked in below his arm.
“Hi, honey,” she croaked in a sleepy voice. She hugged him briefly and her body went slack as she promptly fell asleep again.
Bruce held her in a tender embrace, surprised how calling him honey affected his heart. She’d only been living with him for a week and a half. Yet, there he was, defenseless against a simple word that expressed so much of her own feelings. He didn’t question the emotions that pierced his soul. They came from deep within his heart, where they had already taken seed eight months ago. He’d be forty-two in a couple of months and knew his needs and desires well. Unlike Rhone, he wasn’t scared to open himself to love. In fact, he’d been searching for it for a long time. He didn’t question it. He embraced the devotion developing for her.
If only she’d tell me the truth, so I can protect her.
It was the one obstacle that kept Bruce from fully investing his heart in Morgan. As long as she couldn't be open and honest with him, they didn't have a future together.
“You are the sunshine of my life.” Morgan’s hips swayed along with the tune she sung while heating up the skillet to start preparing breakfast. “Hmm, hmm, hm … you are the apple of my eye.”
She had woken up in Bruce’s arms that morning, filled with a sense of belonging. The temptation to wake him for a quickie was doused when she noticed the tired lines around his mouth. She decided to let him sleep and slipped quietly from the bed.
It still surprised her how easily they had adjusted to living together, a natural adaptation to each other. There was no self-consciousness from her side, in fact, with him she had the courage to be herself, to allow her own desires and needs to guide her. But a dark cloud still hovered over her. She was still lying to him and dreaded the day he found out the truth. She had missed him over the past two days that he hadn’t been home and had drifted around the house aimlessly. It was more than his presence she missed. It was his essence that surrounded him wherever he went, that drew her into him and cloaked her in a cocoon of belonging. A piercing pain stabbed at her heart at the thought of losing him.
I love him, I do. God, I can’t lose him! I can’t!
He made her feel whole. His care and understanding brought together the missing pieces of her soul. His passionate touch softened the scars she carried hidden so deep inside. Her wounds were sealing and slowly beginning to vanish with his steady and patient tenderness. She used to believe that love was magic, a gift from the universe until she’d met Zee. She shivered just thinking of him. But no more, her old beliefs had been reborn with a sweet addiction to the man she had been destined to find—Bruce Rickett.
The smell of bacon permeated the air as she dropped the pieces into the warm skillet. The sizzle and crack were a conduit to snap her out of her reverie. She forced the desolate thoughts from her mind.
“You are the sunshine of my life. Hmm, hmm, hm … you are the apple of my eye.”
She swayed with her hands over her head and twirled around.
“Oh!” She giggled and lowered her arms as she caught Bruce leaning against the island watching her with an amused smile. Her tongue did an unconscious sweep over her lips as her eyes trailed with raw hunger over his rippling physique, covered only in a pair of black boxer shorts.
Good lord, he looks good enough to eat and lick … and fuck. Oh yes, definitely to fuck.
“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” Morgan spun around to attend to the bacon in a desperate attempt to regain some modicum of control over her runaway libido.
It’s not damn fair that a man should look so yummy with ruffled hair, sleep in his eyes, and bare feet.
“I’d rather you surprise me with your naked ass up in the air in my bed to feed my hunger.”
Morgan felt heat rise from her chest at the thought of such a carnal position. She tossed the long braid over her shoulder.
“Sorry, Goliath, but I have a greater hunger for bacon and … hey! Bruce! What are you … no!” she shrieked as Bruce rose to the challenge, literally and figuratively. He stopped trying to wrestle the shirt, the one he’d worn the previous day, over her head. Morgan’s eyes widened as he caught the it between her breasts in a large fist.
“Don’t you dare.”
She caught his wrists and tried to pry his hands loose. He wiggled his eyebrows and with one hard tug, tore the shirt from her body.
She huffed and gaped down at her body, naked, except for a pair of lace panties. The shirt fluttered to the floor. She lifted narrowed eyes at him.
“You … Neanderthal,” she puffed, stamping her foot. “Get away … no.”
Morgan shrieked and jumped out of reach. With an unrestrained giggle at her victory, she quickly skirted around the counter, only to be brought back by the hard-tugging pressure on her braid. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Let go of my hair,” she demanded and did her best to bear back as he pulleyed her in, just like a damn fish! “Bruce, stop! I’m busy with … no, you can’t … dammit, let me go.”
She did her best to avoid his hands but it took no effort from his bulging biceps to lift her onto the island counter, flat on her stomach. Her panties suffered the same fate as the shirt.
“The food is going to burn,” she tried once more. “Tsk,” she puffed as he reached to the oven, switched it off and moved the skillet off the heat. The veritable giant didn’t even have to stretch to reach.
Morgan was still huffing irritably when she realized with a shock that she was tied up—well and good—with dishcloths of all things!
“Now isn’t this a sight for sore eyes,” Bruce crooned as he ran his hands over her luscious ass cheeks.
“I’ll have you know this is exceedingly uncomfortable,” she complained, yanking at her arms with no effect. He’d pulled back her arms, bent her legs, and bound her wrists to her ankles. She felt like a turkey ready to be basted for heaven’s sake.
Crack! Crack!
“Owww!” She glared at him over her shoulder. “What was that for?”
Morgan forgot about her precarious position at the naughty boy smile he bestowed on her. He leaned over and with a wink, bit …
; He fucking bit … I shit you not … my ass!
“Because I can,” he growled as he pushed her legs wide apart. Ignoring her squeal, he brushed his fingertips over her labia, delighted to find them already sticky with her arousal. He trailed his wet finger upwards through the crack between her buttocks.
A shiver of delight followed its path. Her clit throbbed incessantly, like it had suddenly been connected to an electric charge.
“I love your ass, baby. Even better with a very intimate mark of possession, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You’re gonna pay for this, Bruce Rickett, see if you don’t.” She wriggled to try and keep him in her vision. “And this isn’t the club, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Bruce chuckled and traced the teeth marks on her rounded cheek. He opened a drawer, but she couldn’t see what he was doing. “What makes you think kink is limited to the club, squirt?” He walked around the counter. She twisted her shoulders sideways to look at him. He tapped her nose. “You’re my live-in submissive, my pet. I’ll decide the appropriate time and place to assert the power you gave me over your body. Whenever, wherever.”
He cupped her chin and with gentle pressure forced her to arch her back. “Now, about that morning kiss you missed.”
“You were asleep!” she protested indignantly.
“I’ve been in this kitchen for a good ten minutes already and still no kiss. I guess I’ll just have to add a tiny punishment to the fun. In the meantime, I’ll just take my kiss, thank you.”
Morgan forgot all the protests she’d been about to voice as his lips captured hers. Her toes curled as he surprised her with a wildly passionate kiss, slanting his mouth roughly back and forth over hers. She moaned as he stoked her lust with his tongue, deliberately licking the soft part of her palate, sucking hard on her tongue and with a sensual sweep, mimicked the act of sex. Her loins tightened, releasing a flush of liquid heat she could feel slithering from between her labia.