by Liliana Hart
SHADOWS AND SILK
A MacKenzie Novel
By Liliana Hart
Copyright 2012 by Liliana Hart
Barnes and Noble Edition
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Surrender, Montana
The frigid wind howled with fury, cutting through clothes and skin like a knife, and laying claim to a normally peaceful landscape. It was the first storm of what promised to be a long and turbulent winter. Gray clouds—pregnant with snow—roiled across the sky, and a blanket of white, soft powder would cover everything before morning.
The ground was bitter with cold, and the smell of fresh dirt and gunpowder lingered in the air long after the final shots had been fired. Dusk loomed on the horizon and Darcy MacKenzie watched as the last of the DEA cleanup team removed the bodies of Miguel del Fuego’s men, wiping the violent scene from existence with the expertise of men who were good at making things disappear.
They loaded the remaining bodies into a black panel van and disappeared down the long, paved driveway that led off her property, and she was left alone with nothing but fading adrenaline and the one man put on this Earth to make her crazy.
Darcy shivered and hugged her arms across her chest. Her white cable knit sweater and jeans weren’t enough protection against the weather, and added with the shock of what had just happened, she couldn’t seem to control the shivers that wracked her body. She shifted on her bare feet, rubbing one foot on top of the other as she tried to warm them.
There hadn’t been time to stop and put on shoes once the gunfire started, which was damned inconsiderate of del Fuego’s men, considering they’d interrupted a cozy dinner by the fireplace and a whole hell of a lot of sexual tension. Brant had been a hairsbreadth away from finally giving into temptation and kissing her brainless, and though he’d landed on top of her once the first shots were fired, it hadn’t been in the way she wanted. The way she craved.
“There are bullet holes in my house,” she said, assessing the damage to her home.
The big farmhouse was made of gray stone and heavy timber, the porch going around on all sides. It was a postcard in the middle of acres of green fields, rolling hills and white fences. Except now there were bullet holes lodged in the mortar, the hanging baskets of winter ivy hung in broken clumps of wire and dirt, and the white curtains billowed from the shot out windows. Her parents were going to have kittens if this wasn’t fixed by the time they got back from their trip.
“The agency will send a construction crew out to make repairs,” Brant said. “It might be best if you go and stay with one of your cousins for a while until the mess is cleared away.”
If he hadn’t spoken, she wouldn’t have even known he was there. He never made a sound when he moved—like a big jungle cat stalking its prey—only he’d made it very clear he had no interest in coming after her.
“Yeah, right,” she said, laughing. “They all have so many kids that they can barely fit in their houses. The MacKenzies have no problems with fertility. At least on that side of the family. I’ll just put plastic over the windows and make do. I’ve got an extra heater I can use in the bedroom.”
Darcy finally turned to face him, remembering vividly how close she’d come to tasting him. She’d been in love with him since she was sixteen years old, and damned if it had faded like she’d been told those first infatuations would. She had a sinking feeling it was the real thing. If she hadn’t been absolutely certain he was attracted to her in return then she wouldn’t have pressed so hard.
But she’d seen him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and she’d seen the way his eyes had darkened with lust and his breathing had changed whenever she happened to stand too close. And she made it a point of standing too close often. None of the men she’d met in the last ten years had made her want like Brant Scott had. It was his face she dreamed of when she pleasured herself in the loneliness of her own bed, and his name that escaped her lips when she finally found satisfaction.
Even now, she was drawn to the magnetism of the sheer maleness of him. The gun at his side was as much a part of the man as the vivid green of his eyes or the slightly crooked tilt to his nose he’d received after a game of football with her brothers. His black cargo pants and shirt were dusted with plaster and small pieces of glass from the bullets that had ripped through the walls and windows. His blond hair was buzzed close to his scalp and the stubble of his beard was close to the same length. She also noticed he had a pair of her tennis shoes in his hand.
Death had come too close today. If Brant hadn’t had one of those infamous moments of intuition he was famous for and thrown his body over hers in the nick of time, then she knew with certainty she’d be as dead as del Fuego’s men. Nothing had ever scared her more than watching as he’d headed towards danger with his weapon drawn, and wondering if he’d return to her in one piece.
“It’s your ass that’s going to be freezing, sugar. If you want to stay here that’s fine with me. I’ve already been called to another assignment.” He smirked at her with superiority like he had when she was a teenager, trying to keep the distance between them. “I’ll be soaking up the sun while you’re freezing in the middle of nowhere by this time tomorrow.”
Pain ripped through her at his declaration. Just once she wanted it to seem like it was hard for him to walk away from her. It could be months before she saw him again. But she’d known Brant for a long time and he wouldn’t welcome her worry, so she covered the fear with false bravado and a lot of attitude, fisting a hand to her hip and giving him a sneer that was bound to ignite his temper. She loved to see that flash of wildness in his eyes, especially since he held himself so rigidly in check all the time. This was the last chance she’d have for a while. She wasn’t going to let him walk away without breaking past that wall he’d built between them.
“Just make sure you get that crew here before you go basking in the sun. If this house isn’t fixed by the time my mother gets home things aren’t going to be pretty. She’s no one to mess with.”
“What’s wrong, sugar? Afraid she’s going to ground you for misbehaving?”
Darcy narrowed her eyes before she realized he was baiting her. He never stopped trying to remind her that there were too many years between them. At barely twenty-four, she was just finishing up her second Master’s Degree—this one in Mayan Civilization—and she was about to start work on her PhD in the spring. And at eight years her senior, Brant had been an agent for Homeland Security since its inception and a Navy SEAL before that. Despite the sizzling attraction between them, the fact he’d lived his life and chosen a path that was wrought with danger was something he never let her forget. He didn’t have room in his life for complications.
“I’m not the one who should be afraid. Someone is going to have to explain how her grandmother’s mirror got broken. I’d be more worried about her hunting you down and unmanning you.”
“Many have tried,” he said. “None have succeeded.”
Darcy took a step closer, so her breast brushed against his arm, and she smiled as his nostrils flared with desire. He’d been denying the chemistry between th
em for too long, pushing her away when the flame had been burning hotter and higher between them. And spending three weeks in each other’s pockets had only intensified the flame to scorching proportions. She looked him up and down slowly, heat rushing to her cheeks at the obvious bulge behind his zipper.
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman,” she purred.
His eyes dilated to almost black and his nostrils flared as her hand skimmed down his arms and took the shoes from his hand. She pushed past him, putting a little extra swing into her hips as she headed toward the barn. She wasn’t quite ready to face the disaster of the inside of the house just yet. What she needed was a hard ride at neck breaking speed to release the rest of the tension and, if she was honest, the anger over the fact that he was leaving again.
“You’re playing with fire, sugar.”
She laughed huskily, a seductive tone she hadn’t been aware she possessed, and kept walking. “I don’t think so, Agent Scott. You’re the one who’s afraid to get burned.”
The game had gone on long enough. It was time for him to claim her once and for all or walk away forever and stop the incessant teasing. It was time for him to move on from whatever had happened in his past to give him such a grim view of relationships. If he didn’t want her then she could put all her focus on her career. But it was time for him to make a decision or ride off into the sunset.
“Goddammit, Darcy.” He cursed. “You’re taking things too far.”
“And you’re not taking them far enough. I never figured you for a coward.”
She never heard him come up behind her. His grip stung her arm as he spun her around and pulled her close. His breath heaved in and out of his chest and she could see the anger etched in the lines of his face. Her eyes widened as the ferocity of his gaze bored into hers, and blood pounded through her veins. Her nipples tightened to hard buds and moisture pooled between her thighs at his dominance.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Darcy.”
“You underestimate me.” She placed her hand on his chest and felt his heart thumping wildly beneath. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Just like I know that you want me so bad you can hardly breathe.” Her hand trailed down his chest, across the taut ridges of his abdomen, and rested just above the waistband of his pants.
“You have to know this can’t go anywhere. I can’t give you what you want. There are no picket fences in our future. Just a night of mindless fucking to quench this need that’s been pounding at us for years. Is that what you want?” he asked, shaking her shoulders as if he desperately wanted her to disagree and walk away.
She knew he believed what he said, but that didn’t stop his words from hurting any less. There was still a girlish hope inside of her that he might stay. That he might love her the way she loved him.
“I know you’d rather tell me what I can’t or shouldn’t do than get me naked and writhing beneath you. Maybe you’re not man enough after all.”
Darcy tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he held on to her like a vise. The war raged across the harsh planes of his face as his lips hovered just over hers, their breaths mingling.
“Well, sugar. I guess we’ll find out.”
His mouth crushed to hers and she let out a savage moan as she finally tasted him—and after years of dreaming, nothing could even come close to reality. Heat sizzled across her skin and her sex moistened with anticipation. He tasted like decadence and sin and she opened her mouth wider and let him plunder. His tongue teased and tormented, and she could taste the wild hunger inside him. And, God, how she wanted that hunger to devour her.
“Christ, Darcy,” he said, yanking up her sweater and pulling it over her head. He tossed it to the ground, and his eyes darkened as he reached out to skim a finger over the flesh above her bra. “Beautiful,” he whispered, and leaned down to replace his finger with his tongue.
Darcy leaned back and let him taste, not feeling the cold that surrounded them any longer. His fingers kneaded at her back, and he expertly released the clasp of her bra. His lips trailed between the valley of her breasts and her bra slipped off her shoulders and dropped to the ground to join her sweater.
“Stop teasing me,” she demanded.
“Patience is a virtue, baby.”
“So is chastity. Virtues are overrated. Let’s stick with the vices.”
Brant laughed, and her head dropped back on a moan as his mouth found her nipple and suckled greedily. Her pussy throbbed, and her hips unwillingly arched against him, seeking release.
Desperate hands grasped at his shirt and pulled it up and over his head so she could feel the hard flesh beneath. His skin burned beneath her touch, and she ached for that heat to be inside of her. She pressed herself against him so they were skin against skin and raked her nails across his shoulders.
“This will be over before it gets started if you keep that up,” he said.
His fingers tore at the snap of her jeans, and he kissed a wet trail down her stomach as he pushed them down her hips to pool at her feet.
“You’ll just have to make it up to me. Again and again.”
“I love that smart mouth of yours,” he said, twirling his tongue around her bellybutton and nipping his way down south.
“I promise you’re going to love it a lot more a little later. I’ve got an awful lot of fantasies stored up, and my mouth plays a big part in all of them.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
Darcy didn’t know if it was her words or the sight of her in nothing but the black lace thong that caused such reverence, but he sat back on his heels and stared at her with enough heat to make her go up in flames. His hands skimmed up her legs, and he brought his face to her cloth covered mound, inhaling the scent of her desire even as he placed small kisses over her swollen flesh. His fingers slid beneath the lace and she parted her legs as he probed along the creamy folds.
“So wet,” he said, jerking her panties down and burying his face against her, not giving her a chance to catch her breath.
Darcy screamed and her legs almost buckled as he licked inside of her, taking the taut bud of her clit in his mouth and sucking her into a maelstrom of pleasure. He didn’t take her easy, but shot her straight into delirium as tongue and teeth tortured the sensitive flesh.
Her fingers clenched in his hair and she writhed against him as her body tightened, just on the edge of release.
“Brant,” she panted. “God, please.”
Her eyelids shuttered and closed as he slipped two fingers inside of her, stretching her inner walls and probing against a spot that had flashes of light dancing behind her closed eyes.
“That’s it, sugar. Come all over my fingers. Show me how much you want me.”
She cried out at his words and clamped around him. The pulses started deep in her womb, spiraling like bursts of electricity through her entire body, as the orgasm rocked through her. Wave after wave of pleasure shook her body with tremors as he drank in her release.
“Fuck,” Brant hissed, kissing his way back up her body. His cheeks were flushed with need and his lips swollen and damp with her desire.
“Yes, please,” she said shakily.
He picked her up and Darcy wrapped her legs around him. He started toward the house, his fingers kneading her ass and his tongue wreaking havoc against the sensitive spots on her neck.
“I want you in bed.”
“It’s too far,” she panted. “We’ll never make it.”
She ground herself against the bulge behind his zipper and tightened her legs around his waist, causing him to stumble on the first step leading to the wide covered porch.
“You’re right,” he said, propping her against the railing and ripping at the button of his cargo pants. “We’ll never make it.”
Darcy watched, mesmerized, as the button popped open and the zipper spread easily. His cock sprang free—long and thick—the darkened crown flared and swollen, the tip moist with desire. He reached into his pocket and too
k out a condom, ripping the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on hurriedly.
“Pretty presumptuous of you,” she said cheekily.
“I’ve been carrying it around for three fucking weeks. Wanting you so much it was everything I could do to not bend you over the nearest surface and claim you like I wanted.”
Love and desire for this man brought tears to her eyes, and she buried her face in his neck so he wouldn’t see the raw emotions. She’d wanted him for what seemed like her whole life, and now to hear he wanted her just as much was like a dream too good to be true. She loved him with everything she was—with the memories of a young girl and the darker desires of the woman she was now—and now that he’d touched her she knew she’d never feel for another like she felt for him.
She watched in fascination as he pushed the head of his cock inside her. The time for control was long forgotten, and she sucked in a breath as he stretched her to the limits of pleasure. He pulled out and pushed in again, working his way in until he was buried to the hilt. He pulsed inside of her and she clasped around him, milking his cock while he held still and tried to get control.
“Fuck,” he swore savagely. “You’re killing me. I’m trying to make this last.”
“It’s lasted for years. Stop being a martyr.”
He laughed and began to move, hips bunching and flexing as he plunged in and out of her with undisciplined ardor. Darcy’s nails dug into his shoulders and her mouth opened on a silent scream as the fight for control disappeared and all that was left was the feel of the two of them, joined together in the most intimate of ways, as a thousand exposed nerve endings sizzled like lightning and shot from one body to the other.
Perspiration dampened their skin and steam rose from their bodies as it evaporated into the cold. She arched against him, skin slapping against skin, as he pummeled inside her with fierce strokes and an urgency she’d feel in her muscles for days to come. Her head thrashed as he rode her hard and fast, and her hips pumped in equal fervor to the rhythm he set. She was determined that he’d feel her just as much in the following days—that he’d remember the magic they’d shared.