by Tami Lund
She flapped her hand. “Maybe we should introduce him to my mom. Or maybe not.”
Philip gave her a tight smile. “Let’s not.”
“Back to the point of this story. Mom didn’t have the patience to do my hair, so I learned how to take care of it myself at a young age. I used to go to school with these crazy, elaborate hairstyles. For the longest time, my teachers thought my mom was a hairstylist.”
She paused to drink more coffee.
“Money was tight for pretty much my entire life, courtesy of the gambling, and when I was in high school and scored really high on the ACT, I considered going to college to be a lawyer. That way, I figured I’d never have to worry about finances again. But my gran told me not to do it. She told me to go to cosmetology school, like I’d been dreaming of since I was four.”
“Because she knew you’d be happier.”
“Exactly.”
He sighed. “When I was in high school, I wanted to work for the FBI—”
“That explains how you knew pretty much instantly that those guys at the salon were fake.”
“I mean, I did watch a lot of Criminal Minds when I was younger.”
She chuckled.
“Unfortunately, during my senior year, my dad lost his job, and I worried that going to college would put an undue burden on my parents. So I enrolled in the marines instead.”
“But you didn’t love it.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t hate it. I mean, I knew I wasn’t going to make a career out of being a marine, but I learned a lot, made some good friends, did my duty to my country. That’s all important.”
“Sure.”
He rolled his eyes. “But no, I didn’t love it.”
“And when you got out, you had another chance to do what you loved, but you chose the money.”
He looked down at his thermos. “Yeah.”
“You can still do it, you know.”
“I’m not so sure the feds would accept me after the shady shit I’ve seen and not reported. And here’s the kicker: I actually like what I do. Protecting people. Playing security guard. I just wish I could do it for honest people instead.”
“You could. You just need to decide to do it.”
“No, first I need to figure out why the federal government thinks Frank—and you—are working with terrorists.”
Chapter Nine
Not surprisingly, she didn’t handle well the news that she was suspected of aiding and abetting terrorists.
“Seriously?” she blustered as they headed back to the cabin. “Is that why you were at the salon?”
“I was actually working for the good guys for once. And it all went to shit.” He didn’t want her to think anything negative about him, which was stupid since he’d confessed what he did for a living.
He decided not to analyze why her opinion was so damn important.
“How do the good guys even know I exist, let alone think I’m working with terrorists?”
“Since the good guys are the federal government and I assume you pay taxes, that’s how they know you exist.”
“You aren’t funny.”
He parked in the garage and tried to rush around to get her door, but she was in no mood for chivalry apparently, because she wrenched the door open and stomped toward the house without so much as glancing his way.
Catching up with her, he leaned over her shoulder to insert the key into the lock. “I’m not trying to be,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched, which he took as a good sign. She may be angry, but she was still attracted to him. He deliberately brushed against her back as he twisted the knob and pushed it open.
She shoved his arm out of the way and headed inside.
“Why are you so mad at me?” he asked, closing the door and shedding his coat and hat and gloves. He’d tossed on a T-shirt before they left this morning, and he kind of wanted to pull it off because he’d really liked the way she’d stared at his bare chest earlier.
But that was a tad too overt. Besides, she was really upset right now. It felt like they were on opposite sides of a giant chasm.
She flung her arms in the air. “I’m mad at the situation.”
He raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “I can see why they may have been looking at Frank, although my connections say he’s innocent—”
“Just like I told you.” She crossed her arms and thrust out her hip like she was preparing for a verbal battle.
He didn’t want to fight. “Yes, just like you said.” He opened the fridge. “What’s your favorite breakfast food?” He hoped he had the ingredients.
“Why?”
“Because I want to make it for you.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“I know why I think, but I want to hear you say it.”
He closed the fridge and sighed. “Is this some sort of test? Is there a prize if I get it right?”
She moved closer and then slid her body between him and the refrigerator, leaning back against the door so she could look up at him. “Yes, there is a prize.”
Why was his heart suddenly beating at such a rapid pace? Probably because she was looking up at him like she really, really wanted him to pass this test.
He swallowed thickly. “Because…because I want to make you happy. And I don’t want to fight with you. And…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes. And then she kissed him. On the lips. Open-mouthed.
His brain stuttered and then ceased all function. Until the tip of her tongue darted out.
He slid his arms around her waist, hauling her close so that every soft curve of her body melded with every hard surface of his while he opened his mouth and flicked out his tongue, demanding hers to tango. He stroked his hand up her back until his fingers were entwined in her hair. She moaned. It was like a siren’s call.
Damn, he hoped to hell he had a condom somewhere in this house.
He trailed kisses across her cheek and nibbled on her earlobe. “Are you hungry?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a moan.
He grinned. “For food?”
She shook her head.
“Excellent.” He cupped her ass and lifted her into his arms. She wrapped those long, lean legs around his hips, and he carried her up the stairs to his bed, where he lowered her onto her back. When he pulled his hands away, he took her sweatpants with him. Her legs fell open and his brain stuttered again.
“H-hang on,” he said, and he hurried to the bathroom.
Please let there be condoms in here.
He sorted through the medicine cabinet, the drawer under the sink, the cupboards where he kept the towels and washcloths.
Nothing.
“Oh, come on,” he complained as he continued his search. Of course, they could always get creative. There was certainly nothing wrong with oral and manual stimulation. But, God, he wanted to sink into her, balls deep, to connect with her like he’d never connected with another human being, ever.
Finally, he unearthed his toiletry bag and unzipped it. “Yes,” he said triumphantly as he pulled out three foil squares.
When he returned to the loft, she was under the covers, her nightshirt lying on the rug.
His dick gave an excited jerk as he hurried over and deposited the condoms on the bedside table. Her smile widened.
He reached over his head, grabbed hold of his T-shirt, and dragged it off. Her eyes widened while her mouth formed a small O.
Oh yeah.
“I’m thinking I should leave these on for a minute.” He indicated his pajama bottoms. “Because if you’re naked under there, I might forget all about foreplay, and I damn well want to indulge in a little foreplay with you.”
“I’d like that too.” She lifted the corner of the blanket, and he slid underneath. Reaching out, he found her hip. It was bare. Smoothing his hand up, he discovered her back was bare too.
And her tits.
***
Maecie squirmed when he shoved the comforter out of his way so he could stare while he cupped her breasts. And then she gasped when he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. She gasped even louder when he leaned forward and sucked the left one into his mouth.
Good Lord, the man was a magician with his mouth.
He rolled the nipple with his tongue while tweaking and pinching the right one until she was panting and rubbing against his leg like a cat in heat, and she didn’t give a hot damn how wanton she was acting. She just wanted more.
“Hang on,” he said, pulling away. “Don’t get there yet. I want to do it for you.” He kissed her lips, lingering for a long, long minute, and then peppered kisses down her throat, across her breasts, along her quivering belly, until he reached the proverbial pot of gold.
Clutching the blankets, she pushed up onto her forearms so she could watch as he situated himself between her thighs.
"You’re so wet,” he whispered, his gaze on his fingers as he stroked her as if she were a cat. Well, if the analogy fit…
“I like that I do this to you,” he said, and then he sucked in a shaky breath before spreading her lips and blowing gently. Her entire body shuddered, and she fell back against the quilt. He did it again. She moaned. And then he swirled his finger over her clit, and her body bucked while she made an animalistic sound that most definitely had never come out of her mouth before.
He gave her a lick and at the same time slid a finger into her, and she squeezed her eyes shut as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her body. She clenched the sheets and gritted her teeth until she finally bowed off the bed, grabbing his hair and holding him while she ground against his face until her orgasm slammed into her and she flung herself backward with a shout of unadulterated joy.
With her eyes still closed and her chest heaving as if she’d been climbing mountains, she heard rustling she assumed meant Philip had finally shed his pajama bottoms, so she flung out her hand, grabbed a condom, and when he knelt on the bed, she opened her eyes and dangled the little square packet.
He grinned as he snagged the wrapper, tore it open, and then rolled the protective material over a seriously impressive cock.
“Come here,” he said, and he lay on his back, pulling her on top of him. She spread her legs and reached down, grasping his dick and giving it a few strokes. He watched her with a fierce intensity, his eyes so dilated they were practically black, his chest hardly moving, his body seemingly frozen. And then she positioned herself and sank onto his lap, and he groaned while his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
There was something so incredibly satisfying—and seriously smokin’ hot—about sitting astride a guy and making love to him while he stared up at her like he was trying to mesmerize every single detail of the situation. Like he never wanted to forget the intensity of the moment. She felt as though she was the only woman in the world at the moment; the only woman whose existence he cared about in the world.
Heady, and so very sexy.
She rolled her hips, pulling him deeper, and he threw his head back and closed his eyes while lifting his hands and massaging her breasts.
Abruptly, he sat up and practically growled, “Too close.” And then he wrapped his arm around her waist and twisted them both so that she was lying on her back and he was looming over her. He pulled up his knees and grasped her hips and thrust, over and over, relentlessly, until she cried out as her second orgasm barreled through her a scant moment before his body went rigid and he climaxed.
With a gusty sigh, he rolled onto his side and collapsed onto the bed next to her, pulling her close, tucking her into his body, and closing his eyes. She snuggled close and smiled as she too let exhaustion drag her into sleep.
***
Philip woke to a rumbling noise, which he presumed was his stomach until Maecie giggled and pressed her hand to her belly.
“Was that you?” he asked.
She bit her lip and nodded.
With a chuckle, he rolled out of bed, disposed of the condom, and grabbed his pajamas and her nightshirt. “Let’s go find something to eat.”
Since it was basically lunchtime and he didn’t have the patience to actually make something, he sliced up a roll of summer sausage and a chunk of gouda cheese while Maecie sat on the counter next to him, swinging her legs and chattering away like they were a couple who had been doing this for years instead of a few minutes.
“Why do they think I’m involved?” she finally asked.
He pulled a pint of raspberries out of the fridge. “Are you sure you want to talk about this? I don’t want you to get mad at me. I like it a lot better when you’re pleased with me.”
“I’m pretty high on some serious pleasure right now, so it’s probably a good time to talk about this.”
He grinned. “I bet I can take you even higher.”
“I’m looking forward to it. But first, why do they think I’m involved? Whoever ‘they’ are.”
“They are the ATF, and I presume it’s because they were already investigating Frank, so they naturally got pulled into the shakedown at the salon. It would have been easy enough to figure out that you are Frank’s hairstylist. I’m assuming they just want to talk to you to see if their theory is correct. They wouldn’t charge you with anything without proof, which we both know they don’t have.”
“I’m glad you finally believe me.”
He lifted her off the counter and kissed the top of her head. “I always believed you. I just didn’t trust myself.”
She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. He backed her up until she was trapped between him and the edge of the counter, and he gave serious consideration to putting her right back where she had been seated a few moments ago so he could step between her legs and do something about this fresh, new erection that had just sprouted.
The sound of her stomach rumbling bounced off the walls. Chuckling, he broke the kiss and picked up the platters of food. “Grab that bottle of wine over there and let’s take this party into the living room. I want to start a fire, and after we’ve eaten, I want to make love to you on the rug in front of that fire.”
She snagged the bottle and two glasses. “I’m definitely down with that idea.”
The rug was so thick and plush, they didn’t need anything else to cushion them, although he did add a few pillows from the couch so that they could lean against them while he fed her berries and cheese. Taking his cue, she began to offer him food too, and soon, the playful mood turned sensual, as he rolled over on top of her and threaded his fingers in her hair while he made love to her mouth until she squirmed impatiently underneath him.
He shifted to his side and pulled her flush against his body, his chest pressed to her back. This way, they were both facing the fire and he could let his hands wander. Over her breasts, down, his palm smoothing across her belly until his fingers brushed the tops of her quivering thighs. He delved lower, sliding through her wetness while she moved in rhythm with his hand until he was as mindless as she obviously was.
And then he snagged a condom, which he’d thoughtfully brought downstairs with him, and quickly sheathed himself before turning back to her. She twisted her neck to kiss him while he fumbled with his erection, trying to connect with her. She finally threw her leg over his hips, opening herself wider, and he was able to slide into home.
Oh yeah, this definitely felt like home. A place he’d like to never leave, frankly.
He cupped her chin, holding her so he could continue to kiss her while he pumped into her and fondled her breasts with his other hand.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered against her lips. He knew the moment she did; her inner muscles clenched around him, damn near sending him over the edge. He wanted to watch, but he couldn’t tear his lips away.
Kissing her was a powerful drug.
She started to make these sexy growling noises in her throat, and between that and
the increased tightening of her inner muscles, he knew she was close. He picked up the pace, finally breaking the kiss so he could grab her more firmly, giving himself more leverage. Bonus that he could now watch, alternating between the pleasure written on her face and the movement of her hand between her thighs, and as soon as she cried out with her orgasm, he kicked up the speed again until he, too, found his release a few seconds later.
“So fucking good,” he murmured against her ear as he peppered kisses on her lobe, her cheek, her neck, everywhere he could reach.
Yeah, he never wanted to leave this home.
***
Afterward, they curled up on the couch while the sun disappeared behind the trees. “Oh crap, I need to let my brother know that I’m bringing you to dinner tomorrow.”
He shot Tommy a text: Is it okay if I bring a friend to Thanksgiving dinner?
The reply was quick: Sure.
Philip stared at his phone for a few seconds and then texted back, That’s it? You aren’t even going to ask if it’s a guy or a girl?
The fact that you’re so concerned over me asking tells me all I need to know.
Damn it. He overplayed his hand. Sighing, he sent another text: Don’t tell Mom, okay?
Too late. She’s standing right here next to me, reading our conversation. Oh, and she says she can’t wait to meet her.
Great. “I really need to warn you about my mom.”
“How bad can it be?”
“Let’s just say, don’t be surprised if she starts talking about engraved wedding invitations.”
Chapter Ten
“I’ve never experienced a ‘traditional’ Thanksgiving celebration,” Maecie called out from where she stood in the bathroom, pausing in the process of twisting fat ringlets into her hair to create air quotes around “traditional.”