His Fantasy (HIS Series Book 8)

by Sheila Kell

  Nerves skittered through her bloodstream when he kept closing in on her. She’d backed up enough her knees were touching the couch.

  “Maddie,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, before his hand reached out and gently touched her cheek.

  Heat surged through her body from his touch down to her fuchsia-painted toenails. This was a bad idea. Yet she struggled to ignore the pull of him and even hoped he’d kiss her like before, when they’d been all over each other at the hotel in Vegas.

  “Maddie,” he whispered this time. She had a split second to decide whether she’d let him kiss her or push him away. With her heart pounding, she chose, and he lowered his head, touching her lips gently.

  Electricity arched its way through every nerve ending in her body and had her wanting to throw her arms around him after ripping off his clothes. Like before—before he’d opened his mouth and spouted those words that cut her to the core—this felt right. She figured the first time they’d been thrust together was foreplay of sorts, even though neither had seemed to notice how that interlude had fed into their desire for each other.

  He drew back, and his eyes darkened as he looked down at her, a question residing in the depths of his mesmerizing golden-brown eyes.

  Breathless and against her better judgment, she said, “Don’t stop kissing me.” After listening to her sister, deep down she knew he wasn’t the crass guy she’d had a glimpse of that one time, but she really didn’t know him, so maybe it was wishful thinking. Come to think of it, she never did hear a story in the National Enquirer or other ragtag magazine about them sleeping together. All she knew was that her body heated with the desire for his touch… his loving… his caresses. At the moment, she wanted it more than her next breath. How could that be wrong?

  With a sly grin, his mouth covered hers again. She opened immediately, and his tongue swooped with the same force of when he’d tackled her on the bank. Her palms went up his biceps, and she felt the rippling muscles in her hands and the strength he held in them. Continuing her trek, she wound her arms around his neck where her fingers played with the short, dark hair. She kissed him back with all she had as her body trembled with desire. Their tongues brushed then dueled, and she felt each warm, wet stroke throughout her body.

  Brad’s hand left her face and wrapped itself in her hair behind the nape of her neck while his other hand reached to the small of her back and drew her hard against him. Her emotions and desire went into a whirlwind. The hard length of his erection told her that he wanted her, the mess of a woman standing in front of him, not the pin-up girl he’d joked about.

  His mouth lifted ever so slightly, and she tried to pull him close again. “Maddie,” he breathed against her lips.

  Sensations rocked her body. She was so hot that fire should’ve been shooting from her veins. She was lost in him… his kiss… the moment.

  With a groan, Brad pulled her even closer and devoured her mouth with his, his tongue all about domination. As he deepened the kiss, his arms slid down to her butt, and he pulled her up, lifting her feet off the floor. She’d been ready to wrap her legs around his waist when a knock sounded at the door and they sprang apart like a couple of teenagers caught making out on the couch.

  “It’s AJ,” they heard from the other side of the door. “With Brad’s truck.”

  Brad glanced at his watch. “Dammit. I should’ve known he’d speed to get here.” He frowned at her. “It’s best I go. I’ve been up here long enough, and I don’t want to ruin your reputation.” His words startled her as he touched her cheek again. He then placed a light kiss on her lips and left her suite.

  She wasn’t entirely sure she knew what had just happened. He’d thought of her reputation, and she’d been ready to toss it to the birds. Her heart did a pitter-patter at his thoughtfulness to keep her image clean. She’d worked hard to stand out positively in an industry rife with scandal. It’d helped her career, and she needed it just as much now to open the boutique.

  No matter what happened, she could no longer pretend she didn’t want them to be together, at least not sexually, because her actions and her body betrayed her every thought on keeping her distance from Brad Hamilton. But no good could come of a hot, torrid affair with him, except awkward moments with the family when their fire had burned out. So, her mind told her to stay away from him, and she would.

  AFTER A SHITTY night’s sleep with nothing but images of Madison—naked and in his arms—Brad showered then dressed. He might need to pull up his long sleeves later in the day, but for now, he wanted to stay warm in case they had any outside training.

  On the drive to work—Hamilton Investigation & Security, co-owned with his brothers—he thought about the incident with the senator. Something niggled at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t pull it forward. The memories of what had happened to him in Columbia that cost him his career as a Secret Service agent were lost to him. It frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t remember the events leading up to what had happened. Although a small part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to remember. What if he really did hire the prostitute? It wasn’t in his character, but maybe he’d been drunk… or drugged. It wasn’t the first time he thought he’d been drugged, but couldn’t prove it since he’d been sent home before he could have any blood work done. By the time he was in the States, it was too late to test his blood. It seemed asinine to believe one of his brethren would drug him. Maybe a local Columbian had. That could’ve happened. But why? It all made no sense.

  Arriving at Jesse’s home and HIS headquarters, which was now its own separate building on the large acreage of land his brother owned, Brad noticed a group congregating around the field where an outdoor firing range had been established so they could hold in-house weapons practice. They had plans to build their own indoor range in a few months, so everyone must be taking advantage of the fresh air today. Not wanting to miss out on whatever was happening, Brad hustled over to the group, stopping where AJ and Devon stood apart from the large group of HIS men and women—from law enforcement or military careers.

  Catching his breath in the crisp morning air, Brad asked his brothers, “What’s going on?”

  “Shootout at the O.K. Corral,” AJ told him, without looking his way. His gaze remained on the paper targets several hundred yards downrange.

  “Shootout? We’re way back here, so I take it Jesse and Neftali are taking the shots?” The two sharpshooters on the team, who’d been snipers in the military, were constantly trying to outdo each other. It also provided entertainment for the team.

  “The new recruit challenged both of them.”

  It took him a moment to grasp whom AJ had meant. Samantha Milton had been a recent hire, straight from a SWAT team, as one of the best—if not the best—sharpshooters in Baltimore. It was ballsy of her to start out her employment with the team this way. As far as he knew, she’d never seen Jesse or Neftali shoot. “Who’s your money on?” he asked curiously.

  “Jesse, of course,” AJ stated without hesitation.

  “Neftali,” Devon chimed in.

  “Pity Matt and Trent are missing this type of fun.”

  AJ’s words hit home like a sucker punch, and the fun of the event left him in a whoosh. Trent—their half-brother—had moved away for the love of his life and had cut ties with HIS, preferring to be a rancher. But, Brad’s twin, Matt, who’d also moved away for a woman, met with them via videoconferences and calls unless they were face-to-face on a mission. He missed his best friend something fierce. The phone calls they shared weren’t enough. Yet, his brother had finally married the woman who’d stolen his heart in college, and since she, because of her charitable organization, couldn’t move to Baltimore, Brad let go the hurt of his brother moving away and separating them. It was bound to happen, but selfishly, he’d have preferred Matt to have found a local girl.

  Pushing himself back into the fun unfolding before them, he decided to mix things up. He liked to fuck with his brothers. He figured they’d come t
o expect it from him. And, well, because someone had to do it. Why not him? “My money’s on Sam.”

  Heads swiveled his way in surprise. He’d always been an avid supporter of Jesse’s and boasted when he’d win these matches and call them rigged when he’d lost. Thankfully his eldest brother had won more than he’d lost. Jesse stood as the reigning champion sharpshooter on the team, but Neftali didn’t quit trying to one-up Jesse. “What? We hired her because she’s good. I have the utmost faith in her.”

  Samantha walked by with her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder and her blonde hair, pulled back in a ponytail, flying in the light breeze. “Thanks, Brad. At least someone has faith in me.”

  He noticed Ken Patrick—a former army Ranger who’d served on Jesse’s team—grumbling in her wake that it was too soon to challenge the others. What the hell? Ken, their field team leader, didn’t have faith in her? That was unlike Ken and could be a problem they didn’t need. Sam, as she preferred to be called, was the first woman they’d hired who wasn’t one of his brothers’ wives. Did that have something to do with it? Brad was sure she’d earned her spot with the group. Hell, she’d made SWAT, and that shit wasn’t easy by any means.

  With a smug smirk, he prodded his brothers. “Twenty bucks?”

  Based on their gazes and expressions, AJ and Devon seemed to have the same concern about Ken and Sam. Yet, they nodded in agreement.

  Come on, Sam. Show them what you’ve got. That’s forty bucks in my pocket and a great way to start your time on the team.

  The three competitors found a prone position while everyone else moved back to give them space. Not that they worried about stray bullets, but worried they’d be distractions. Not that a distraction would really bother the shooters either. The three were solid professionals.

  “So,” AJ started, “what’s happening with Madison?”

  Brad stiffened, not sure where his brother was going with that comment. One look at Brad yesterday and AJ had to have known something had been going on between the two of them in the hotel room. Brad had been more gruff than usual when he’d opened the door to a grinning AJ, who’d assured him his truck handled ninety like a gem.

  No one could know that he’d had a one-night stand with Madison and that she’d been the one to end the night. He’d never had a woman walk out on him. Never.

  Yet, even with his mantra of love ’em and leave ’em, he’d never had a woman leave his bed and not look back unless he cut ties. Maybe it wasn’t just the mind-blowing sex he’d had with her, but that he’d felt a connection with her that he hadn’t felt with anyone else. She was a challenge he wanted to tackle.

  “Nothing that I know of,” he finally responded, no doubt adding to the intrigue in his brother’s mind by his delay in responding.

  After a shouted warning, they covered their ears as shots fired.

  Removing his hands, Brad heard Devon, a former CIA agent, say, “Bullshit,” but it’d been hidden in a fake cough.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” AJ said with a laugh.

  “I don’t know what you think happened, but it’s simple. I came upon the incident behind her. She was too shaken up to drive, so I drove her into town. I left when AJ, the speed demon he is, arrived with my truck.” His back was up by now, and he narrowed his eyes at his brothers. “Now, what the fuck is the problem?”

  Devon held his hands up in an “I give up” gesture. “Whoa. No need to get all defensive with us.” Then he grinned like a schoolboy with a secret. “Or is there?”

  A sudden thought occurred to him. Did Devon know the truth? Did any of his brothers besides Matt? He thought he and Madison had been discreet in Vegas so no one would ever guess they’d planned to spend the night tearing up the sheets. At that time, it’d been assumed it was a one-night stand, so he shouldn’t have been so upset when she’d left. The reason she had left dropped stones to his gut. He’d been joking and hurt her feelings. He admitted it hadn’t been his finest moment. It’d been his fantasy for many years to have her naked beside him, and he’d screwed up any chance with her outside the hotel room.

  He didn’t need any crap from his brothers. “Fuck you.” If they knew, they’d keep it secret. At least he hoped because he was sure Madison would go ballistic if she became the talk of the break room at headquarters. And he’d have to kick some ass with his brethren if that happened because he wouldn’t want her reputation tarnished nor her sister to hear about it and want to kick his ass for allowing her sister’s name to be slung around.

  “Yep, something worth talking about.” From beside him, AJ slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll make up something.”

  The urge to do something he hadn’t done in a long time—deck one of his brothers—was fighting its way out of him.

  Three HIS team members retracted the targets from downrange with the pulley system they used to keep from going into the field of fire.

  “I’d be careful if I were you making up something. Rylee will have your ass on a platter.” Rylee, the mother to his five-month-old nephew, hadn’t mellowed with motherhood. If anything, she’d become more protective of those she loved. And she loved her stepsister, Madison. Maybe more than her husband, Devon, who shouldn’t be joking around like this about his sister-in-law. “Especially you, Dev.”

  “I didn’t say I would make shit up.” Devon jerked his thumb toward AJ. “That’s dipshit here doing that. I know better than to test my wife where her sister is concerned.”

  “Have you heard anything more about the shooting?” AJ asked.

  Shaking his head, Brad answered in the negative. “I doubt I’ll hear anything.” Although going to the dinner with the senator might change that.

  “I haven’t told Rylee yet,” Devon said. “Madison had best do it soon, or she’ll hear about it from someone else and, knowing those two, Madison wants to be the one to tell her.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it,” Brad said. “That’s between the two women.”

  In an effort to steer the conversation away from him, he nodded toward where a group was evaluating the three targets and the location and closeness of the shot each sharpshooter fired. They allowed only one shot because they said if you needed more than that, you sucked and needed to have your sniper rifle repossessed. “Are you ready to pay up? I’m going to win.”

  “No fucking way,” AJ taunted. “Jesse’ll win.”

  “Fuck both of you. Neftali’s going to take it this time. I have faith.”

  With a shake of his head, Brad chuckled. “I’m about to be forty dollars richer.” He grinned mischievously. “Do you two actually have the money or do you need to beg for an allowance advance from your wives?”

  “Doesn’t matter because we won’t be giving you the money. You’ll be paying me,” AJ boasted.

  Typically he’d agree with AJ, but today he felt bold and a bit reckless. Betting on the newbie not only poked at his brothers, but it showed him as a rebel, and he tried to do that whenever he could.

  “Whatever,” Devon stated. “You both know you’ll owe me so you may as well get your money ready. Rylee would love a dinner out. We haven’t gone anywhere alone since Mitch was born. Except work.”

  Sighting Rylee in the mix checking the targets, Brad asked, “Is she ready to come back for missions yet?” The teams relied heavily on Devon because of his superb computer skills, so he didn’t really take a break when his son was born, but Rylee, a former FBI agent and HIS team member, took maternity leave—something Brad didn’t know they fucking offered—and still hadn’t come back to work for missions. She came to train, though, like today.

  “The Belgium assignment. She’d wanted six months to not be away for more than the day, but the trip was close enough. I have a feeling it’s going to be hard for her. She’s pretty attached to Mitch. So am I,” he added.

  A tightening in his gut settled at the talk returning to babies. He was happy for his brothers and their families, but they needed a life outsid
e of young ones. Something they could share in with him.

  Loud groans echoed among the group surrounding the targets, telling Brad what he needed to know. He held out his hand. “Pay up.” He knew the groans were from all who lost and probably only one or two—if that—placed their money on Sam. The team would not be the same now that they had a new best of the best, and she was a woman. Not that they begrudged women—they worked side by side with them with trust—but being bested by one still crushed a man’s pride.

  He wondered what Ken would say about Sam and her abilities now.

  “Damn,” AJ said as he slapped a twenty-dollar bill into Brad’s hand. “I can’t believe she beat Jesse.”

  When Devon placed his twenty into Brad’s hand, he held it there. “Make things right with her. Whatever you did, make it right. Madison refuses to come to any family dinners or events”—he lowered his voice—“and I know it’s because of you. I know, Brad,” he emphasized. Devon released his hand and returned his wallet to his back pocket. “Let’s go congratulate our new champion.” Slapping AJ on the shoulder, they moved to the group about fifteen yards away.

  Devon knew. Fuck. Brad couldn’t be the reason she wouldn’t do shit with her sister’s family. He wouldn’t believe that. He needed to see her and set things right. Say the things he wanted to say yesterday but couldn’t because of her fragile state. Although their kiss had shown her strength and had only whet his appetite even more for her. They’d settle this between them. He knew there was more than sex attracting them to each other, and he wanted to explore that with her and see if a relationship was possible. And if they ended back up in bed, he wouldn’t complain.

  MADISON EXITED THE elevator at The Ivy and entered the luxurious lobby. Inhaling the clean, fruity scent that filled the common areas, she could never get enough of this hotel and the magnificent spa. Sure it only had nine suites and nine rooms, but the atmosphere alluded to so much more. As she walked by one of the many seating areas with the fireplace lit, she noticed two men watching her from a gold-toned sofa. When they stood to approach her, her heartbeat sped up as it always did when people approached. Some wanted to tell her how much they loved her modeling while others went into a lecture on not eating enough and how she should be ashamed as a role model. In reality, she wasn’t quite as thin as the other models. It frustrated the designers to no end, but she had always been determined to stay a healthy weight.