by Angel Payne
Because she wasn’t afraid.
Just confused.
“Really confused,” she confirmed to herself, trying to add up the details she could gather so far.
The mud room door was open—which meant Wyatt hadn’t yet left for the mission, because the man always closed and locked that door when he left to fight the bad guys. It was symbolic for him, to ensure her that nothing “messy” would ever get into their home while he was away.
But if he hadn’t left, why was his go bag missing from its normal spot? And what was her overnight bag doing in its place? And while she was on a roll with the strange questions, why were cartoons playing in the den at a reasonable decibel level? And why wasn’t her little girl shouting her usual nonstop commentary?
“What…is…going…on?” Every word corresponded to a new stair she now cleared, arriving in the entryway as a painful scowl scrunched her face.
The expression didn’t ease when a familiar scent tickled her senses, fresh as wind but naughty as leather, just before her husband’s presence filled the foyer from behind. She had a chance to break into half a needy moan before Wyatt stepped over to consume every millimeter of her personal space as well, caressing the fronts of her thighs and teething the side of her neck.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He growled through his long inhalation at her skin. “And I do mean Beauty.”
So now her heart revved to Mach Five. “Is it?” she managed to respond, even making it breezy and bold despite longing to melt fully back into him. “I’m not sure everyone around here agrees with that, Mr. Hawkins.”
Wyatt didn’t wait for her to melt. He shifted forward, bracketing his legs against the outsides of hers. “That so, Mrs. Hawkins?”
Another growl unfurled from him, deep and savoring, as he worked his body around hers like storm clouds rolling in around a helpless tree. And God, did Josie feel helpless. And God, did she love every second. When she drew in another breath, her lungs were only able to claim it in short, choppy spurts. “I…I overslept.”
“I know.”
“By a lot.”
“I know.”
“Because you turned off both my alarms?”
“That I did.”
“Damn it, Wyatt.” Somehow, perhaps with some kind of divine intervention, she shoved away from him. As she spun back around, a shiver overtook her. Her traitorous body always knew the difference between the heated paradise next to him and the cold tundra in trying to resist him. But most frustratingly, her husband knew the exact same thing—sharpening the bite beneath her new charge. “You know I have a thousand things to do today!”
In contrast, his own expression was full of frightening calm. Hell. She hadn’t seen that expression on his face for a long time now. She used to love it and hate it in the same moment—usually when she’d been cuffed and stationed at the man’s feet, waiting for him to decide what wicked treatment he was going to mete on her trembling body.
And that was not now.
This situation was different.
Very, very different.
“Did you hear me?” She pushed a huff onto the end of it, folding her arms.
Wyatt’s jaw jutted. “Loud and clear, my girl.”
Jo swallowed. My girl. The bastard knew what that did to every cell of her bloodstream too. At least he hadn’t said my sweet girl. But he knew better than that, on a day like this, when so many things had to be handled…
“And you’re still proud as a rooster strutting the hen house about letting me oversleep by three hours?”
He quirked the corner of his mouth. “Roger every drop of that, my love.” Now the other corner. The resulting smirk, a look that always turned her belly to goo and her pussy to mush, grew in confidence as he moved back in, backing Josie into the foyer corner between the mud and dining rooms. “As a matter of fact, I’d encourage you to aim for a little nap this afternoon.” He pushed in a little more, angling his face over hers and dropping his voice to a sandpaper grate. “Your stamina is not a negotiable item for our agenda tonight. It is required, Josephine Eliza, and I will have your full cooperation on that.”
For a long second, Jo didn’t speak. During the next one, she had to bite her lip to rein in a high laugh. Some of the reaction emerged anyway, tittering out of her as she stared in candid wonder. “What the hell have you been smoking, Wyatt? And why didn’t you share some with me? Ohhhh, wait. Maybe you did last night, and that’s why I don’t remember anything after my head hit the pillow…?”
More laughter echoed through the foyer—though she wasn’t taking the fall for it this time, and Wyatt was nowhere close to humor, with his grin faded. She looked over as Sage and Garrett appeared, with Sage carrying Racer and Vi riding on Garrett’s back. Her daughter’s fingers were sticky, with a tiny marshmallow crown still stuck to a thumb. Ah-ha. Princess Puffs cereal worked its kid-silencing sorcery every time.
“Looks like we timed our entrance perfectly,” Garrett quipped.
“Yeah.” Sage giggled. “Just in time to save Jo’s backside from paying for her wiseassery.”
Josie scowled. “That’s not a word. And even if it was…little ears?”
Garrett grinned. “So maybe Sage’s backside needs a reminder about wisdom and its applications.”
Before Sage could form a comeback, Wyatt grunted and pulled away from the corner, keeping Josie tight against him with one steel girder of an arm. “You two can throw down about all that after we get back.”
Garrett ticked two fingers over his right eyebrow. “Acknowledged. We got your six. You kids go have fun.”
“Okay, whoa.” Josie finally got free, slicing both arms wide in the air. “‘After we get back’?” she accused Wyatt. “‘Go have fun’?” she flung at Garrett. “And in case you’re not aware, we’re not kids anymore. And I’m still in my ever-loving pajamas!” In a disbelieving mutter, she added, “At ten in the damn morning. On a day you shouldn’t even be here.” She stabbed a finger into Wyatt’s chest. “I’d say I’m dreaming, but my dreams aren’t this insane. Okay, then. This is just an alternate reality. Hogwarts goes to Iowa. The Upside Down without the creepy viny stuff. The Matrix minus bending spoons…”
“How about just…Dreamland?”
For moments after Wyatt murmured the sultry suggestion in her ear, she could do nothing but blink. Then stammer. “D-Dreamland?”
He kept his lips angled in at her ear. “Our flight leaves for Chicago in a few hours. I just checked us in online.”
“A…few…”
“And you’re all packed. Sage helped me grab your essentials—including the corset dress still hanging in your closet with the tags on it.”
“The…corset dress…” Okay, now it was official. She truly had to be dreaming, because she’d resigned herself to simply staring at that fantasy outfit for the rest of her life. The window for actually getting to wear it somewhere appropriate had surely passed her life by…
But no. This was her life, rushing and real, confirmed by her daughter’s happy squeal as Garrett lowered Violet so she could run back to the den for her favorite plush toy of the week. When Vi ran back in, Garrett stooped to remind her and the stuffed snail that Mommy and Daddy were going out for a sleepover just with each other, but she was going to the “big kids’ sleepover” at their home for the night. Vi was so pumped, she stopped long enough for wet kisses to her parents before running off to set up a celebratory tea party for Racer, the stuffed snail, and a dozen dolls.
Sage was recruited as the tea-party assistant while Garrett headed upstairs to prep Racer for his morning nap, meaning the foyer was suddenly empty again. But just in one sense. Josie could swear her astonishment had become a real creature dancing along the walls around her and the man who’d just bashed in the gates of her psyche with one hell of a ramrod.
Shockingly, a few cells of logic had stuck out the attack and now prodded logical thoughts back. Because of that, she twisted in Wyatt’s embrace, hooking a couple of fin
gers into the collar of his crisp white shirt. But just a couple. She didn’t want to mar the perfection of him, which she now had a chance to fully take in. The button-down shirt was tucked into slacks that were mostly charcoal, save for their subtle white pinstripes. Dress shoes would’ve been the traditional choice for a finisher, but Wyatt had opted for trendy boots instead. Dark-gray lace-ups with an industrial flair. The look was rugged but polished and perfect for him.
No. Beyond perfect.
Just like every second of this day so far.
She stared up at her husband, for once not even thinking about masking what she felt. Happy amazement. Awed surprise. And yes, blatant shock. All of it led to her truly curious query. “How long have you been planning this?”
“Hmmm.” Wyatt bit his bottom lip, turning his face into devastating deviousness. “I’d say…about eighteen hours?”
She felt her eyes try to jump from their sockets. “Liar.” She tried to laugh out the accusation but soon recognized it was a no-go. Wyatt Nathan Hawkins had been custom-wired for a lifetime in Spec Ops and covert missions. He liked clear-cut plans and tons of details with which to execute them, meaning last-minute surprises and “make it up as you go” were the stuff that gave him hives, even if he was the one doling out the fun.
“You know that normally I’d own that,” he replied with too much ease. “But on my entire stack of Bolt saga manga, I swear this all came together only after you got home with Sage yesterday.”
She did a double-take. His favorite super hero had just been invoked. Okay, he was serious—as well as telling the truth. “Well, damn.” Another double-take. “And hold the hell on. After Sage and I—” She stepped free, folding her arms in obvious indictment. “Wait a damn second. She…she told you, didn’t she?” Just a few seconds of his fish-needing-water gape, and she had her answer. “She told you about how I refused to do that dumb naked photography stuff with her. That’s what this is about. Now you think I’m repressing shit, so you canceled out on an entire mission to make new arrangements for us in Chicago instead. Shit. Shit.”
Wyatt let her pace out the ire for two and a half steps before sliding back into her path and circling her waist. For two seconds, she struggled but realized she had no chance against his rigid grip. Once she softened, he compelled her even closer. They both moaned as he worked his heated touch beneath her robe, gripping her hard enough to leave indents on her hips.
“This is about us burning away all the ice castles, Jo. Not just yours. Those walls are my doing too. And just as much my fault.”
She got down a painful swallow. His confession was everything she’d been longing and dreading to hear. While she missed the intense connection to her lover and Dominant, it was also terrifying to consider a return path to that dynamic with him. What if they couldn’t find the path anymore? What if fate had just given them the path for a little while to navigate a darker part of the forest in their life’s journey? What if paths didn’t get given out to parents, and their life was doomed to just be a massive meadow in which their routes crossed once in a while and the rest was a spread of sunshine in the spring, a coat of frost in the winter, and a lot of boredom in between?
They could live with boredom, couldn’t they? It wasn’t all that bad. It sure as hell beat the cliff where she and Wyatt had once been—memories that caused her to fight shudders even now. No, they’d never be there again. And maybe the meadow was what they settled for in its place.
But he was offering more than the meadow.
He wanted to go find the path. And he wanted to do it with her. He’d stepped way outside his comfort zone to prove it. Canceled out on a mission. Planned a trip to Dreamland at the last minute. Packed her bag too. She was stunned the man wasn’t visibly twitching by now.
So why was it so hard for her to even think of shaving down a part of her glacier, to show the man she hadn’t frozen through all the way? To give him just a peek at what lay so deeply hidden in her ice caverns. The woman who still longed to be his obedient little girl…his perfect, beautiful submissive?
Because she didn’t feel so perfect anymore.
Or beautiful.
But maybe that was where she needed to start—no matter how scary it was.
She got a shaky breath in and pushed it out with equal jitters. Finally, softly, she confessed to him, “I’m…I’m scared.”
A deep rumble came from Wyatt’s chest. Its vibrations still hummed in his muscles as he gathered her tight and close, kissing his way through her hair.
“That’s all right,” he murmured. “Scared is all right, my love. Sometimes, scared is even good.”
She sent a wry laugh into the middle of his broad, beautiful chest. “Oh? That so?”
“Damn right.” His voice was a dark but steady growl now. “The fear reminds you how important the mission really is.”
Josie absorbed that, really hearing his solemnity as she inhaled his clean but rugged scent, before rejoining, “So…you’re scared too?”
He gave his reply at once—though the words walked the same unsteady ground as hers had.
“Terrified, baby. Terrified.”
Chapter Four
In a number of ways, Wyatt had almost kicked himself for allowing Jo to go ahead and change her clothes before they got on the road to the airport. She’d looked so fucking breathtaking after flying out of bed this morning, a sexy mess in her pajamas and slippers and then her shock and delight, that he’d almost ordered her to just stay that way until they got to Chicago. It wasn’t like Des Moines was a central hub of the commercial airplane world, but he hadn’t enjoyed the idea of anyone gawking at his woman and entertaining the same thoughts he did.
The thoughts giving his imagination a very fun show right this moment.
And yeah, nearly half of them inspired by the wardrobe change he’d almost forbidden.
Thank fuck, at least for a few seconds, he’d chosen to think with his better sense instead of his idiot dick.
But just for a few seconds.
Definitely not these seconds.
He was back to prioritizing every move and action according to the aching flesh between his thighs, especially as he obsessed over the sight of the woman in the airplane seat beside his. The way her ebony hair contrasted with the creamy rose of her cheek. The eager attention in her gaze, lending golden glints to her bronze irises as she stared out the plane’s window while they ascended and broke free of the clouds. The way the sunlight angled in and across her lush body, clad in a wraparound black dress and fishnet stockings, finished off with a pair of kickass black suede boots.
Those suede boots.
The ones she’d been wearing the night they first met. When the snow had sparkled in her hair like tiny stars in a silken galaxy. When they’d laughed about stuff so stupid, he couldn’t remember a damn thing about the subject matter and absolutely everything about her giggles.
So many things.
He remembered so many things about that night…
But most of all, the way she’d looked up at him with such hope and happiness, delighting in nothing else but the moment…nothing else but him.
Just like she gazed at him now.
But now was also when that narrative changed a little. The woman knew him better—much better—than she had during that first wintery wonderland of a first-date-that-wasn’t-a-first-date. She proved it by notching her head to the side and lifting a tiny, incisive smile before teasing, “Okay, hotshot. Penny for your thoughts. Or do you have to charge me more because this is first class?”
Another switch-up in the plot. On that first night in Chicago, Wyatt would have overreacted with a belly laugh. Now he chose to lean over, letting his desire rise to his eyes, and tell her in a low growl, “I’m thinking that you wore those boots.”
Her stare turned the color of hammered copper. “Well, you liked them in the middle of that snowfall.”
“No. I loved them.” He slid his flute of champagne into the holder at h
is side, needing to fill his hand with the curve of her cheek instead. “Just as I knew I loved you, Josephine…damn near from the first moment I ever saw you.”
He listened as her breath caught. Watched as her lips trembled. Then tensed as she forced back her emotion, downing half the contents of her own flute as a blatant diversion from the emotions he was dredging up from her, whether she liked it or not. Right now, he’d have bet all the money he dropped on this flight on the or not option.
“Ohhhh, goodness. That’s very good stuff.” She smiled and rubbed at her nose, probably dealing with all the bubbles she’d just downed. “I’m not even going to bust out the pointy fingers at you for splurging on first-class seats.”
Yep. She was clearly steering back toward frothy subjects and safe conversation—though Wyatt saw the acknowledgment, deep in her constantly averted gaze, that the piper was coming to her for payment soon. He and Josie hadn’t ever wasted time with a frothy and safe phase. That was never their connection, nor would it ever be. Steel needed fire. Blood needed a cut. Dominance needed its submissive.
He needed her.
More than she would ever know.
More than he’d been taking time to tell her lately.
But for right now, he’d let her have her fizzy fun. “We’re not hurting for money, Jo,” he assured. “The last few missions have paid well.” And had come with the pube-splitting clusterfucks for it too, but she didn’t need to know that. “So now, let’s just celebrate.” He accepted another split of champagne from the attendant and swiftly topped off both their glasses. “To all the best parts of the night that started everything, as well as the best parts of our new chapter.”
A mesmerizing smile tugged at the bow of her mouth. “Hmmm. I like that.” She raised her glass. “To an awesome new chapter, husband.”
“To a new chapter…my sweet girl.”
He extended the emphasis on those last three words while tilting his glass forward. As they tapped the flutes and then drank the bubbly, he leaned his head over as well…ending the quest with his mouth firmly on hers. Josie moaned like a needy kitten as he traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, accentuating the tingle from the champagne for them both, until she finally surrendered and let him plunge all the way inside.