by Tawna Fenske
Kelli slid her hands between their bodies, lingering over the muscles in his chest. Her fingers fumbled with one button, then the next and the next until his bare chest was pressed against hers.
She pushed the shirt over his shoulders, and reached for his belt. Mac drew back, breathless.
“God, I want you.”
She smiled and unhooked his belt. “The feeling’s mutual.”
He shoved the pants down over his hips and kicked them aside, his hands barely leaving her body. He kissed her again, and Kelli tasted sugar water and sweat. She’d never hungered for anything this much in her life.
His hands were on her ass, kneading, cupping, stroking. The only thing separating them now was the thin lace of her thong, and that was hardly protection. He was hard and throbbing against her, and she wanted him so badly she cried out.
“Please,” she gasped.
He smiled down at her, not bothering to ask what she wanted. He clasped his hands around her hips and boosted her onto the counter. Then he hooked his thumbs under the waist of her panties and drew them down, baring her completely.
She reached for him, needing to feel him inside her that instant, but Mac drew back.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “I want to taste you.”
Before she could say a word, Mac dropped to his knees on the tile floor. With one hand on each of her thighs, he pushed them apart. Kelli gasped and gripped the handle of the sink handle for balance. He moved between her legs, his tongue probing gently at first. He made slow, deliberate circles, his mouth warm and wet as his fingers dug hard into her thighs.
Everything was a rush of sensation and liquid warmth as he teased and tasted, sliding up and down, dipping his tongue into her before drawing back to circle again and again. He released one thigh and moved his hand up. Gently, he slid one finger into her. Kelli cried out and gripped this sink handle, spurting her backside with a gush of tap water.
Mac laughed and licked into her. “You’re already plenty wet.”
Kelli groaned and tried to remember how to turn off a faucet as she concentrated on the feel of his tongue surrounding her, his fingers moving deep inside her. He slid in and out, his tongue working in soft rhythm as he thrust deeply into her, a solid counterpoint to the softness of his mouth.
She felt something building inside her and released the sink to twine her fingers into his hair.
“Mac,” she panted.
She only had breath for that one syllable before the first wave of pleasure crashed into her, rocking her back against the mirror as her heels smacked the cupboard. She cried out, turning her face into her arm and biting down to muffle her own screams as her body clenched around him. His mouth was everywhere at once, licking, tasting, stroking as his fingers moved. She arched up, pressing into the sensation as her back slid against the mirror and her body surged again and again and again.
She couldn’t remember closing her eyes, but she opened them as the last wave of pleasure ebbed. Mac was standing now, his face glowing and tense with need. Before she could gather herself, he was reaching into his wallet for a condom.
He looked into her eyes, a brief invitation to refuse if she wished. She reached for him instead.
“Please,” she gasped again, sliding the condom the rest of the way on. Mac grabbed her roughly, catching her hips in his hands as he drew her back to the edge of the counter.
He moved slowly at first, easing himself inside her, giving her a chance to adjust. She groaned and clenched her legs around him, digging her heels into his low back to urge him on. She tilted her head back and he claimed her mouth, kissing her hard and deep. He plunged into her again, harder this time, and Kelli buried her face in the crook of her arm to keep from crying out.
His hands were hot and rough on her hips, holding her steady to meet his thrusts. He let go of her with one hand and slid his fingers between them, the pad of his thumb gliding softly over her most sensitive spot. Kelli cried out, dizzy with sensation. His thrusts were hard, but this soft, new pressure was delicate, precise. He caressed, probed, teased, until she felt herself break again.
She screamed, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound as Mac drove into her, his own voice rasping with pleasure as she felt him pulse inside her. The rhythm of his thrusts matched the force of her own body’s spasms, and she rocked against him, breathless and dizzy and liquid with sensation as they crashed together.
As her dizziness subsided, she was aware of Mac gazing down at her. She looked up to see the smile in his eyes.
“Well now,” he said, drawing his hand from between their bodies to stroke softly over the bite mark on her biceps. “We did an admirable job showing Felix how that’s done.”
“And with only one penis.”
Mac grinned. “You complaining?”
“Definitely not,” she gasped, planting a kiss on his shoulder. “Not in a million years.”
…
Dinner was surprisingly uneventful.
Or maybe it was everything that happened before dinner that made it all seem uneventful, Mac mused as they headed home just after ten.
The only moment of drama had come when Griselda caught sight of the self-inflicted bite-mark on Kelli’s upper arm.
“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry,” Griz gasped. “Felix—he does not know what he does when he is excited.”
Flummoxed, Kelli had knocked over her glass of red wine, effectively cutting off that line of questioning. Mac had done his best not to smirk at her as the maid rushed to clean it up.
“You’ve been spilling a lot of drinks lately,” he said, giving her a wry smile. “Should I be concerned about a drinking problem?”
“Oh, I have a problem, all right,” she’d said, kicking him under the table.
Now they were back in the car with the balmy evening breeze brushing over their skin. Mac had switched off the air-conditioning, savoring the wind in Kelli’s hair and the scent of her perfume in the air.
“So you think we fooled them?” she asked, using her fingers to hold her hair at the nape of her neck.
Mac caught sight of the bite mark on her arm and smiled. “You mean did we convince them we can’t keep our hands off each other? Pretty sure we nailed it.”
“So to speak.”
Mac laughed. “When you went to the powder room, Zapata asked if you were feeling okay.”
“What?”
“‘Your lady,’” Mac mimicked, a spot-on impression of Zapata, if he did say so himself. “‘She is not well? I hear her groaning before dinner, and now she look—how you say? Flushed.’”
“Ugh.” Kelli closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, releasing her hair to flutter around her face again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. And don’t worry—I assured Zapata you just had a raging stomach virus.”
She snorted. “Are you always this romantic, or are you saving it just for me?”
“Just for you,” Mac said, struck by how true that was. Had he ever felt so comfortable around a woman, so at ease with goofball humor and easy conversation?
“Well, I hope it helped,” Kelli said. “When will you know more about the deal?”
“Soon,” Mac said, adjusting the rearview mirror. He caught sight of a dark sedan behind him, moving slowly through the darkness with its high beams slicing through the night. How long had it been back there?
“Griselda seemed nice.”
Mac turned his attention back to Kelli. “Griselda seemed much more reserved than normal.”
“How do you mean?”
“Normally, she’d have been trying to slip her hand down the front of my pants whenever her husband left the room. Instead, she sat on the opposite side of the table and never made eye contact.”
“So sorry you were deprived.”
Mac grunted and checked the mirror again, noticing the dark sedan getting closer. He slowed, waiting to see if the driver would pass or stay on his tail.
“Trust me, Kel—the last thing
I’m feeling is deprived.”
She was quiet a moment, and Mac tore his eyes off the other car long enough to glance at her. “You okay?”
“Me?” she asked. “Absolutely. Tonight was—well, incredible.”
“If you’re easily romanced by sex in a terrorist’s bathroom in the company of his injured lizard, I’d have to agree.”
She gave a laugh that seemed a little uneasy and looked out the window. “I’ve never been one for romance. A quickie on the bathroom counter is much more my style.”
Mac wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or insulted, so he settled for squeezing her knee. Kelli smiled and curled her bare feet beneath her on the seat, looking small and delicate and sweet again. How the hell did she do that?
Tearing his eyes off her, Mac looked in the mirror again, dismayed to see the other car wasn’t passing. He dropped his speed, feeling edgy as they approached his house. Had someone followed him here? It wasn’t one of the Town Cars, so it couldn’t be Hank keeping tabs on them.
The roads leading to his neighborhood were quiet, dotted with second homes and quiet residences that didn’t see much action at this hour. Who the hell was following them?
“Mac?”
He turned and saw a pair of tension creases between her brows.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Mac slid a hand to the gun holstered at his side. He was just a few hundred feet from the house now. Should he continue past and see if the car followed, or risk leading someone straight to his house?
“The house is well guarded,” he said, as much for his own sake as for Kelli’s. “Someone’s on our tail.”
“Oh.” She glanced behind them, her worried expression deepening. “We’re being followed?”
“It looks that way. Duck down, Kel. Keep your head below the dash.”
She obeyed, and Mac made the turn into his driveway. He hit a button on the dash that controlled the intercom to the house. “Guys, we have visitors,” Mac said. “Full alert.”
He watched as the car turned into the driveway behind him. A dark sedan with tinted windows masking the identity of the person inside. Mac swallowed hard and pulled the parking brake, his hand steady as he reached for the pistol.
“Don’t move,” he told Kelli. “Not unless I come for you. Keep your head low.”
“Okay.”
Her voice was high and soft, and Mac wished he could just stay here and pull her against his chest, stroking her hair and assuring her everything would be fine.
But duty called.
Mac reached for the door handle as he drew his gun with the other, wishing he had the Kevlar vest he kept stowed in the trunk. He stepped out just as the rear door of the sedan swung open and someone stepped out.
Mac felt his blood go cold.
“Dear God, no.”
Chapter Nine
Kelli sucked in a terrified breath as Mac’s words echoed in the night.
Dear God, no.
She kept her head down, just like he’d told her, and her pulse thrummed so loudly in her ears that she thought her brain might explode. She held her breath, waiting for the gunshots, waiting for the thundering footsteps of Mac’s bodyguards, waiting for—
“Is that seriously the way you’re going to great your mother, MacArthur Patton?”
Mother?
Kelli sat up, banging her head on the dash, as she peered through the window. Sure enough, there was Stella Patton, looking exactly as she’d looked since the first time Kelli had gone home with Sheri in second grade and Stella had explained they could only have a plate of cookies and milk if they performed thirty minutes of KP duty, followed by a military circuit workout.
Stella had led the workout.
Kelli looked at Mac. He couldn’t have looked more dumbfounded if his mom had shown up naked wearing a sombrero made of bacon.
“Mother,” Mac repeated, almost like he was willing himself to believe it. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s precisely what I came to ask you, young man. Did you not think to tell me you’d gotten engaged?”
“I—uh—”
“Mrs. Patton,” Kelli said, pushing open her car door and stepping onto the driveway to rescue her fake groom. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”
“Kelli? Is that you, dear? Goodness, I haven’t seen you for ages. How have you been, sweetheart?”
Stella stepped forward and wrapped Kelli in a hug that smelled like gunpowder and Oil of Olay. Kelli fell gratefully into it, catching sight of her dumbstruck groom over Stella’s shoulder.
“You’re on hugging terms with my mother?”
“Of course we are, honey,” Kelli replied. “I’ve been friends with your sister since second grade, remember?”
“No—I mean, I guess I didn’t pay attention to my little sister’s friends, but I didn’t realize—”
Stella shook her head and regarded her eldest son with fond contempt. “MacArthur, how can someone with such a genius for covert operations and world affairs be so utterly oblivious about human relationships?”
Mac gritted his teeth, and Kelli almost felt sorry for him. If Sheri was right about her brother’s hang-ups with emotional entanglements hindering his need to protect people, having his mother here had to be messing with his mind.
“Good to see you, too, Mother.”
Stella stepped back and straightened her blouse before turning to regard Mac with a stern look. “Don’t you get smart with me, young man. How is it that I had to hear through the grapevine that you’d gotten engaged?”
Mac grimaced, but said nothing. Feeling sorry for him again, Kelli looped her arm through his and gave her most angelic smile.
“Mrs. Patton, we wanted to surprise you. Mac had this lovely plan to fly you and Mr. Patton out here for a visit and announce the engagement over dinner at our favorite restaurant. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
“Right,” Mac said, swallowing hard as he stared at his mother. “That’s right, darling.”
Kelli winced at the stiffness of his words, but Stella didn’t seem to notice. “So the two of you—wait—you’re marrying Kelli? Sweetie, that’s wonderful.”
Stella threw herself at her son, beaming like she’d just won the lottery. Though Mac towered over his mother by a good foot, it didn’t seem to matter as she wrapped her arms around him and did her best to hoist him off the ground.
“Mom, don’t—you’ll hurt your back.”
“Don’t you tell me what to do, young man. I’ll have you know I endured thirty-eight hours of labor to bring you into this world. I could throw you across the driveway if the mood struck me right.”
Kelli didn’t doubt it. She’d once stood at the edge of a military airport watching Stella land a fighter jet—quickly, it so happened, since she was late to take the girls to a school carnival.
Stella Patton was the master of steel-handed mothering.
“Why don’t you come inside,” Kelli suggested, glancing at Mac to make sure he wasn’t preparing to run. “We’ll just have Maria get a room ready for you, and—”
“The guest room is occupied,” Mac said suddenly. “Kelli is staying in it, and the household staff occupies the other rooms, so it would probably be best if I found you a nice hotel in town. Someplace safe with full-time guards.
“Kelli is in the guest room?” Stella raised an eyebrow at her. “You a born-again-virgin, missy?”
Kelli felt her cheeks go red as she remembered just how unvirginal she’d been just a few hours ago. “We’re choosing not to cohabitate until after the wedding,” she said as sweetly as possible.
“Sweetheart, don’t even try to pull this prim-and-proper thing with me. I’ve known you since you climbed to the top of the monkey bars and charged the boys a dollar apiece to see up your dress.”
“Must’ve been college?” Mac muttered under his breath.
Stella smacked him in the arm, then gestured toward the car. “Get my bags, MacArthur. Then you can help your
fiancée move her things into your room. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether you’re going to be a gentleman and take the couch or if you two are going to stop being silly and old fashioned.”
“This, coming from the woman who insisted good old-fashioned child rearing required you to wash my mouth out with soap every time I said a curse word.”
“Don’t think I won’t do it again if you get smart with me.” She turned to Kelli, offering her arm. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go inside and you can tell me all about the wedding plans. My, those are beautiful earrings. They look like they’d match the little necklace you used to wear. The one you got from your mom. Do you still have that?”
“Have it? I’m wearing it. Look—”
Kelli reached down to touch the chain and froze. She looked down and gasped. “My necklace. It’s gone!”
Mac frowned. “I noticed you weren’t wearing it in the car, but I thought maybe you took it off in the bathtub.”
Kelli shook her head, fighting back tears. “It must have fallen off when I was taking care of Felix. Or maybe after that when we were—”
She trailed off there, not wanting Stella to think she was more depraved than she already knew. Mac squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we get your necklace back.”
Stella beamed and nodded approvingly. “You can always count on MacArthur. A man of his word, that one.”
Stella began tugging her toward the house, and Kelli stumbled to follow. She cast one quick look over her shoulder at her groom. Mac stood numbly beside the car, the pistol dangling limply at his side.
“This isn’t how arms deals are supposed to go,” Kelli heard her groom mutter as she drifted into the house behind her new mother-in-law.
…
It was well after midnight when Mac watched Kelli stand up from the dining room table and yawn. “I really appreciate all your insights about bridesmaid dresses, Mrs. Patton.”
“You can call me Stella now, sweetheart. We’re almost family.”
“Stella.”
“And don’t forget my idea about the wedding theme.”