McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series

by North, Leslie

  She bent her head under a beam. “It's a secret room!” she gasped.

  “What? Really?” Maggie had to bend almost double, but she managed to squeeze through the tiny entrance. She straightened up and gasped.

  It was a small nook, small enough that Annabelle could touch both walls if she stretched out her hands. One wall was the brick of the old chimney, and the other sloped down as it followed the roofline, but the other two were decorated in perfectly preserved floral wallpaper in the distinctly seventies hues of mustard and avocado green.

  “It's like a time capsule!” Maggie marveled as she turned in a small circle. “Is that macramé? This is back in style now.” She touched the bohemian tangle that still hung from the rafters. “What is this place?”

  “I think Annabelle called it. It's a secret room. They must have walled it off during the last renovation,” Vane explained. He ducked under the beam and straightened up.

  Maggie took an instinctive step back. “Ow!” Annabelle complained as she trod on her foot. “There's not enough room for you guys—you're too big!”

  Maggie looked up. “She's right,” she tried to laugh. “Your hair is touching the ceiling.” But her breath was coming faster now. With Vane in the room, she suddenly felt like she couldn't get enough air. Every breath filled her lungs with his scent, the salty tang of the sea air mixed with something unidentifiable but so quintessentially male that it made her limbs go to jelly. She pressed her hand against the wall in a desperate bid to keep from swooning. “I don't think we can all fit in here.”

  “Are you okay?” He moved his hand sympathetically, brushing the small of her back. Her skin tingled under his touch, making her breath come even faster. “Are you claustrophobic?”

  “Not usually.”

  “It's okay. Here.” He held out his hand.

  He kept his hand on her back as he helped her climb back out of the space. Maggie knew it was meant to feel reassuring, but it only added to her dizziness. When she straightened up, the corners of her vision went dim and she stumbled.

  Vane caught her up. She sagged against him. He felt as solid and unmovable as an oak tree, and she braced her hands on his elbows until the dizzy spell passed. She blinked away the spots that swam in her eyes and looked up.

  “You okay?” he said, gazing down at her in concern.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed, and then smiled.

  “You sure?”

  “Don't I look okay?” She exhaled.

  He tightened his grip on her. “Here in my arms? Yeah, you look... perfect.” He kissed her, sweetly at first, and then with a desperate ferocity.

  “Uncle Vane! Can I put my bed in here?” Annabelle shouted from the other side of the wall, completely oblivious.

  Vane chuckled, but he didn't let Maggie go. She laughed and let her head fall against his chest. “I don't think it'll fit, little lady. But the room can be yours. We'll put in a real door, and you can decorate it however you want.”

  “Can I take the ugly flowers down?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Cool! Hey, Miss Stewart! Can you help me paint?”

  Vane looked down at Maggie with such tenderness that she felt dizzy all over again. “As soon as we put the door in so Miss Stewart can feel comfortable, okay?”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “For what?” he said with a wink. “I want you to feel at home here, too.” He sobered. “I really hope you do.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  How could she explain to him that that was the problem?

  * * *

  “I miss bedtimes,” Vane had told her with a sweet smile. “I got this. You take the night off.”

  Maggie stood at the edge of the water. Behind her, the full moon hung low in the sky, giving the seafoam that whirled around her toes a silvery glow. With every gentle, lapping wave, her toes sank deeper into the sand. She'd left Annabelle bouncing at the edge of her bed, lecturing her amused and slightly bewildered-looking guardian on all her ideas for the renovation of her secret room, which she had quickly dubbed Narnia. Now she inhaled the salty tang of the ocean and once again felt that she'd found something precious.

  She dropped into a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, and splashed water into her face, hoping it would help to clear her thoughts. It felt cool and delicious on her overheated skin but did nothing to cool her overheated brain. She splashed herself again, then stood up.

  “I haven't even gone into the water yet,” she realized with a laugh. Gathering the edge of her skirt in her hands, she stepped into the next little wave. It lapped around her ankles, then her calves. The ceaseless waves against her skin almost felt like the caress of a lover’s touch. She waded in until the water kissed her thighs.

  “Don't you have a swimsuit?”

  She turned with a start and nearly toppled over backwards. “You scared me!” she called.

  “You're really easy to sneak up on.”

  She stuck out her tongue. A sudden impulse hit her, and she splashed him. “There! Now you need a suit too!”

  Vane sputtered and wiped his face. “Hey, I have the baby monitor; you're going to electrocute me.”

  “It would serve you right,” she laughed as he pulled the monitor from his pocket and set it on the sand. "That was a good idea, bringing it out here. You could maybe stop the terrors before they get too bad." Then her mouth went dry as he lifted his shirt. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm hot,” he explained. “And you look like you want company.”

  “Do I?” Her throat was too tight. She couldn't swallow. Not with Vane's torso suddenly in view like that. “Do you work out?” she blurted.

  He grinned. “I try.” He waded out until he was next to her, not seeming to care that the bottoms of his shorts were soaked.

  She shook her head. “You have, like, an eight pack.”

  He idly touched the burnished planes of his stomach. “It's not what it was when I was younger. Parenting is murder on the physique. All those snacks. I'm getting soft.”

  She poked his rock-hard abs. “Yeah. Real soft.”

  He jerked when she touched him, his muscles contracting involuntarily as her hand brushed his skin. Maggie's sarcastic smile fell away, and she felt her gaze drawn upward irrevocably. When she saw that inscrutable look on his face, her cheeks heated and she made to snatch her hand back.

  But he caught it and swiftly brought it to his lips. “No,” he murmured against her wrist. “Don't stop touching me.” He pressed a kiss to the swiftly beating pulse at her wrist.

  Maggie turned her hand to cup his face. “Like this?”

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  She could feel her heartbeat in every part of her body. The slow, steady pulse as she let her fingers wander down from his cheek to trace the sharp angle of his jaw. The tendons in his neck flexed as she traced his collarbone and dipped into the hollow of his throat.

  “You're beautiful,” he murmured, but made no move to touch her in return. Her heart beat faster as she realized he was letting her take control. She could stop this any time she wanted.

  But she didn't want to.

  She traced her finger down the center of his chest, pausing at the dip below his sternum where the broad planes of muscle converged before following the clear path down to his navel. She spread her palm wide and pressed it flat just below it. “If I'm going to keep touching you,” she murmured, feeling half drunk with power. “I'm going to need to go lower.”

  His stomach hitched under her hand. She looked back up at him and was startled by the raw hunger in his eyes.

  Startled and thrilled.

  “So go lower,” he urged.

  She licked her lips. Keeping her eyes on his, she undid the button on his fly. He made a sound low and deep in his throat, and she felt him shudder. “Keep going?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes. “Please,” he growled.

  How could a word be a plea and an order at the same time? Maggie
couldn't believe what she was doing.

  But more than that, she couldn't believe what he was doing to her. He was just standing there, not touching her, but the power that vibrated through his body, the sheer effort straining his muscles as he kept his hands clamped to his side, was intoxicating. She wanted to see how far she could push him. What would make him break? What would make him lose control and yank her off her feet? Crush her to his chest and kiss her until she couldn't breathe?

  Would he break if she sucked at his neck as she sought below his waistband? No, but the noise that rumbled up from deep in his belly urged her onward. Would he still be able to stand when she closed her hand around his girth? He grunted, and his hips jerked involuntarily. Maggie grinned in triumph against his shoulder.

  And then slowly, so slowly, and as gently as the water lapped their legs, she moved her hand.

  “Oh God,” he gasped as she stroked his length. He shuddered and made a noise like a wounded animal “Maggie, shit, Maggie...”

  The way he said her name—with his voice nearly breaking—inflamed her. “When was the last time someone touched you?” she wondered.

  “Like this?” A rueful grin played across his lips. “It's been a long time. I've had... other things on my mind.”

  “What's on your mind now?” She licked her lips.

  That was what broke him. Not her touch—her need to know him.

  Vane made a strangled sound that Maggie hoped was the last shred of his icy composure breaking. She looked up at him eagerly.

  And then gasped as his lips slammed into hers.

  Vane's kisses had always left her dizzy. But this one, out under the stars, with the sound of the ocean in her ears, made her feel like she was outside of her body entirely. Maggie had had her share of fun back in the day, but this was like no high she'd ever experienced.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her easily, and she clung to him, fastening her legs around his waist.

  Her fears melted away. There was nothing else but Vane. Vane's lips, Vane's fingers, Vane's groans as she arched against him. “Need you,” he rumbled in her ear.

  “Have me.” She whooped as he splashed out of the water. “I'm on the pill,” she gasped as they tumbled into the sand.

  “I'm clean. I got tested as soon as I got Annabelle, and there's been no one... there is no one...” She cupped his face and took his lower lip between her teeth.

  The faint popping of stitches as they tore each other's clothes off, the frantic gasping as skin met skin, the lapping of the waves and the sound of Vane's groan as he pressed his length to her center were the only sounds that filled Maggie's ears. Lost in the mindlessness of what they were doing, she barely noticed he'd paused until he'd gone silent.

  She opened her eyes.

  The moon had risen fat and full, and the silvery glow made him look almost otherworldly as he looked down on her from above. “Maggie. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you right now, but I want you to know this. If this isn't what you want, you can tell me. Tell me right now, before this goes any further, and I'll stop.”

  She licked her lips. The feeling that she was where she had always hoped to be was stronger than ever. She pressed her hands against the small of his back. “Yes,” she whispered.

  A shudder rippled through him. With a barely suppressed growl, he thrust inside her.

  Maggie gasped at the sudden fullness. She clutched at his neck, his shoulders; if she didn't cling to him with everything she had, she'd start falling. "Maggie, yes." Vane's voice was completely changed. Gone was the sense of command, of order and control. He sounded like a wild thing, barely able to form speech. He bent his head until his forehead rested on hers. "Yes," he said again, like he was mirroring her, giving in to her the way she'd given in to him. "Let me hear you." He drew back, exchanging his deep, slow, thrusting rhythm for short, shallow strokes that drew little yelps from Maggie's lips.

  "Is this what you like?" His finger found her clit, teasing her with light, feathery strokes that nearly drove her out of her mind. "Or do you want it like this?" he demanded as he braced his elbows on either side of her face and pushed himself so high and deep that she felt like he'd split her in two.

  Maggie's mind swirled and dipped in dizzying confusion. How could this be the same man? It was like Vane's gorgeous exterior, all polished beauty and controlled authority, was only a mask he wore. This man, the one who gripped her hips and pulled her higher until she was braced on her shoulders, and her toes barely grazed the sand, was the one that she'd been drawn to all along. A wild, passionate animal who looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.

  "Slow," she groaned. Her fingers opened and closed against his skin as she chased the white- hot ecstasy that built in her core.

  Vane lifted her leg and slung it over his shoulder. She was wide open to him, exposed in every way and completely at his mercy. He slowed his rhythm, each punishing thrust going impossibly deep. "Shit, Maggie."

  It was that barely controlled ripple that undid her. Feeling him hold back made her lose control. She dug her heels in the sand and lifted her hips to meet him, and in the next breath, her whole body went taut. "Vane!" she cried as the orgasm took her. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them wide, convinced she was falling upward into the stars. Vane roared above her, meeting her with everything he had as he cried out her name in a voice loud enough to reach heaven itself.

  9

  Vane was still not sure it had actually happened. It had felt like something out of a dream—out there on the sand with Maggie gasping underneath him. When she'd cried out his name as they came together, he was sure he was about to wake up.

  But instead she'd kissed him and then they'd laughed about how sand had gotten into places it never should go.

  And now, days later, he only had to brush the back of Maggie's neck and whisper, “You've got some sand there,” to make her blush prettily and give him that smile he wasn't sure he deserved.

  This was too good. This house had always been his home, but it felt even more so with Maggie’s and Annabelle's laughter ringing through it.

  He pulled on his T-shirt and smiled as the happy sounds drifted up from the kitchen. It was the weekend, which meant he could actually hear them. No renovation din to cover Annabelle's indignant shriek. He grinned again, wondering what Maggie had said to make her squeal like that.

  He hurried downstairs to find out.

  “Morning, ladies,” he said, doffing an imaginary top hat and executing his most polished bow. “You're both looking lovely today.”

  “Uncle Vane!” Annabelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “You're so corny.”

  “He's polite,” Maggie corrected, shooting him that gorgeous smile. “Nothing wrong with being polite.”

  “Thank you, Miss Stewart. I'm glad an educator of your caliber recognizes that fact.”

  “What does caliber mean?” Annabelle asked as he freshened Maggie's coffee before pouring his own. “What are we talking about?”

  “You don't know what caliber means?” he asked, pretending to be scandalized. “I'll have to have words with your teacher.” He dropped his voice as he glanced at Maggie over the rim of his cup. “Maybe later tonight.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. He laughed and reached for a bowl in the cupboard, deliberately pressing against her as he did. And to his delight, she didn't move out of the way.

  “Since we're all off today,” he said after pouring himself a bowl of cereal, “I was thinking the three of us could spend the day at the beach. It's going to be a hot one, and swimming would feel nice.”

  Annabelle paused mid-chew. Swallowing hard she smiled at Vane. “I can't go in past my knees,” she admitted. “I don't know how to swim.”

  Vane froze. “You're kidding.” He could feel Maggie's shocked eyes on him. Teasing Annabelle for not knowing a big word was one thing. How had he missed that she couldn't swim? Would Maggie think he should have known this? Hell, she was rig
ht, he should have. “Never had a swimming lesson?”

  “I did. But I was scared.” Annabelle shrugged. “The instructor was this scary loud guy. When I told Daddy I didn't want to go anymore, he got really mad and went to the pool and yelled at him for being a 'power-tripping fuckwit.'“

  “Annabelle!” Maggie chastised.

  “I'm just saying what Daddy said! I'm not swearing!” Annabelle protested innocently. “Anyway, then Daddy got sick and I never went back to the pool after that.”

  Maggie's hand on his shoulder helped steady him. “I get that,” Vane said.

  “How about we start those lessons back up again then?” Maggie asked. She tightened her fingers, squeezing Vane's shoulder.

  Once again, he felt like he was dreaming.

  “Okay,” Annabelle agreed, suddenly shy.

  “Good. Finish up your breakfast, and we'll get started.”

  Vane had always done his best with a specific goal in mind. Teaching Annabelle to feel confident in the water was an excellent goal.

  And it had the side benefit of seeing Maggie in her swimsuit. She wore a high-waisted, vintage-style bikini, with a sweet little bow nestled between her breasts, which made Vane's throat go dry every time he looked at it. It was both perfectly innocent with its girlishness, and also thoroughly sexy with its promise of being one tug away from letting her breasts spill free. Carefree and unconsciously sexy. It was so quintessentially Maggie.

  “She's doing so well!” Maggie laughed when Annabelle was confortable submerging herself past the waist.

  “I think it's time we tried blowing some bubbles, what do you think? Can you put your face in the water?”

  “What? How?” Annabelle allowed Vane to guide her until her chin was submerged, but the second her mouth touched the water, she fought him, flailing backwards and kicking out defensively.

  “Oh!” Maggie cried as a sheet of water soaked her from head to toe.

  Annabelle hopped back up, mortified. “Sorry, Miss Stewart!”