The Marriage Merger mtab-4

by Jennifer Probst

  “Don’t make me punish you.” She reached up and cupped her breasts, running her fingers over her tight nipples, taunting him. “or you don’t get to touch me at all.”

  The monster he’d created took charge. His body shut down his mind, and with a muttered curse, he returned to his original position. He feasted on the lush curves of her ass, the way the hall light played over her body, the delicious up and down motion of her mouth as she sucked him.

  He hung on to his control with his last rasping breath, but it didn’t stop, never stopped. She kissed every part of him, his legs, hips, stomach. Moved up his chest to play with his nipples while her hands massaged and rubbed his erection, keeping him iron hard. When she finally reached his mouth, he was starved for her taste. She nibbled his bottom lip, running her tongue lightly over the seam, until he groaned and opened for her.

  She dove in, claiming him as he’d claimed her endless nights, knowing he was completely at her mercy. She tasted of sweet chocolate, crisp mint, a touch of Kalúha. Her musky arousal assaulted his nostrils and made him crazed for more. His fingers gripped with all his strength until he was afraid the posts would snap in two.

  “you taste so good. Feel so good,” she breathed against him, diving in deep with her tongue. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

  Time to finish. He eased his hold and got ready to take what was his.

  But she sensed his shift and slid down his body in one graceful motion. Parted her legs. And buried him to the hilt inside her.

  He cried out. Her silky, wet channel clenched around him and squeezed tight. She adjusted her position, shimmy-ing her hips as she took control and began easing up and down on top of him. Within pleasure, a glimmer of fear took root in his gut. He fought for rational thought and began to flip her over.

  “No.” Her eyes were wild, her lips soft and slightly bruised. “Let me do this. Let me love you.”

  The words stung like wasps. He lost his breath. “Don’t.”

  She arched, and ripples of pleasure shot down his dick.

  “Julietta, please.”

  “Let go. Just this once.”

  She didn’t wait for his response. She rode him hard and wild and deep. His need to come, to give to her, roared up and washed away the last of his control. He watched her as she neared the edge, held herself there, her fingers digging into his hips, hair streaming down her back, face completely open to him.

  “Tell me you belong to me.”

  Her demand singed his nerves. Sawyer gritted his teeth, and the orgasm shimmered before him in all its haunting glory. “I belong to you.”

  “Come for me, Sawyer.”

  With a shout, he let go. His seed shot inside of her, but she never stopped the frantic pounding rhythm. She drenched him with her own climax, and aftershocks of pleasure hit and convulsed his body. The orgasm went on and on with so much intensity it blurred into pain. Sawyer took it all, humbled by her beauty, and a wave of emotion washed over him in violent splendor.

  Her body folded over. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he stroked back her damp hair. She gave him the words in the darkness with no hesitation.

  “I love you, Sawyer. This is more than sex. More than business or companionship or something on paper. This is about how I feel when I look at you. About the way you protect Wolfe, and how you respect me, and how you make me a better person. A whole person. It’s about the man I see every day. I believe he has everything to give; he’s just afraid to take it. I’m not going to be afraid anymore. I’m going to be brave enough for both of us.”

  The stunning words crashed through his barriers and pierced his heart. His thoughts whirled in a jumbled mass of confusion and need and fear he’d never experienced.

  Unable to speak, unable to do anything but breathe and remain frozen, Sawyer did nothing.

  A while later, she fell asleep, never asking for his an-swer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two days later, Sawyer punched the button for the inter-com. “Is Wolfe back yet?”

  His secretary’s voice came out crisp and sharp. “He just arrived, Mr. Wells. Should I send him in?”

  “Please.”

  He pushed back from his chair and paced his inner sanctum, stopping by the few erotic pieces he displayed on the wall. He’d begun to notice his new wife had a touch of oCD and constantly needed to straighten paintings, pic-tures, or knickknacks to a perfect line. especially when she was stressed. It was another tic he enjoyed getting to know about her.

  Sawyer studied the paintings. They were subtle enough for an office, yet still retained the aura of sensuality he enjoyed studying. The woman lay her head on the man’s chest, her eyes closed, her face reflecting a peace and satisfaction of a recent orgasm. The man held her in a possessive gesture that always fascinated Sawyer. When he took women to bed, he had never experienced the need to hold them close afterward or the roar of his inner primate to claim them on any more than a physical level. He soothed, comforted, supported. He pleasured. Never, ever did he actually feel.

  Until Julietta.

  They’d gone riding yesterday again. Taking advantage of the lure of spring, they’d actually played hooky on their lunch hour and taken to the streets. He loved the wild freedom of watching her take off on the sexy bike, her laugh-ter and challenge echoing in the air around them as they roared through the city.

  He still hadn’t responded to her comment of love. He’d prepared himself for a dreaded conversation where he once again explained his emotional limitations, but instead she hadn’t said a word. Just continued as if the event had never happened.

  He didn’t even know if he was overjoyed or pissed off.

  The door opened behind him, but he didn’t turn around.

  “About time you got back. Don’t tell me we had more problems on the site.”

  “No. remember I told you I needed a few hours to meet with Maggie?”

  “oh, yeah, the modeling thing.” Sawyer shook his head in amusement. “you won’t even wear the designer clothes I got you, let alone get in front of a camera. But I thought it was really nice you let Maggie drag you over there.” He twisted to face Wolfe with a grin. “How’d you get—holy shit!”

  He blinked, not recognizing the boy in front of him.

  He looked more man than boy. His crazy spiked hair had been completely shaved off so he sported the popular look preferred by today’s youth. Without hair, nothing de-flected from the strong lines of his face, the stinging blue of his eyes, the strong jaw with the slight dimple that he never noticed because of the facial jewelry. A bit of stubble hugged his chin.

  His basic shirt and tie had been replaced by an Armani suit that seemed to have been custom-made for him. Snug lines emphasized his height, and the double-breasted jacket with a red tie gave him a dashing aura that would have women dropping their panties. Crap, his shoulders and biceps were huge, evident in the way the material stretched. All that working out had given his apprentice another benefit.

  A hot bod, as the ladies would say.

  His gaze kept roving over the boy’s figure but his mouth wouldn’t work. Wolfe scowled and thrust out his jaw in familiar rebellion. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like the hair?”

  Sawyer struggled for words. “you look so different.”

  “Different how? Do I look like a nerd, dude?”

  He shook his head in awe. “Hell, no. you look awesome.

  How did Maggie talk you into this? What happened?”

  Wolfe shifted his weight. “I had a consultation with the designer. He was a trip. Loved my look, but said we needed to soften some of the edge. Maggie suggested I go for the shaven style, and I figured it would be good for business, too. I mean, I can’t keep meeting big clients with this appearance anymore. It’s just not fair to you.”

  Sawyer remained mute, feeling as if he’d been dropped into an alternate universe. Was this the kid who sneered and challenged and refused to bend?

  “So, we got it done, and the g
uy booked me for a shoot next week. But listen, I don’t want you to think this is going to pull me away from Purity. It’s a Saturday session, and I’ll make up the hours. Is this cool with you?”

  raw emotion rose up and choked him. “It’s very cool with me. Jesus, Wolfe, you look amazing. So . . . grown up.

  And you’re gonna be a fucking cover model? Women will be dropping at your feet.”

  Wolfe grinned and again, Sawyer was struck by how the boy seemed to have changed. “yeah, we can hope. Listen, I gotta catch up with Julietta on a few things. you need me for anything?”

  “Not now. We have a four o’clock meeting I’ll need you to sit in on.”

  “No problem. Thanks, Sawyer.”

  Sawyer watched the door close behind Wolfe. Pride surged and tingled through every vein in his body. Somehow, someway, Wolfe was going to be okay.

  …

  Later that night, Sawyer watched the credits roll past on the massive TV, and he pulled his wife’s feet into his lap.

  She groaned as he massaged her insteps. “I can’t take any more,” she moaned deliciously. “No more Rocky. I’m burnt out. How does he always manage to come from behind when he’s so much smaller than his opponents?”

  Wolfe snorted. “Wait till you see the final installment.

  Five sucks bad so we’re skipping it, but he brings it home in the sixth.”

  “But how old is he? I thought his brain was fried in three?”

  Sawyer gave a patient sigh. Women. “He pushed through it. Wolfe’s right, five’s a tragedy. But the last one wraps the whole series up. Poor guy.”

  “yeah, it’s sad how lost he seems without Adrian.”

  Julietta swung her head around. “What? Adrian dies?

  That’s terrible! I don’t want to see it.”

  Wolfe stuffed another handful of popcorn in his mouth and adjusted his blanket. Clad in flannel pants and a long-sleeved shirt, he propped his bare feet on the edge of the chair with a bowl settled in his lap. “Come on, Julietta.

  you’re usually not so girly. Suck it up.”

  She sputtered a laugh, which turned into one of those yummy moans when Sawyer worked her toes. She had pretty feet, with delicate bones and fire-engine-red nails.

  “Fine. But this is the last one. It’s almost two a.m.. I’ll be dreaming about knockout punches.”

  Sawyer pressed a kiss to the top of her head and eased off the sofa to slip in the last DVD. When Wolfe arrived home from work, Julietta always greeted him with a kiss and a huge. Sure, Wolfe usually looked awkward and ducked his head, but the flash of pleasure in those blue eyes told him the truth. He’d gotten quite attached to Julietta and allowed her liberties most couldn’t claim. Like touches, smiles, and even the occasional laugh.

  After dinner, Wolfe announced they should have a movie marathon with the old classics. Since his collection included all of the Rocky movies, they’d convinced Julietta to watch the original Rocky. of course, this morphed into most of the series, so they all looked like a bunch of vegetables like poor rocky.

  “Bathroom break,” Wolfe announced. “Don’t start without me.”

  Julietta shook her head in amusement, the obvious ad-oration on her face for him making Sawyer’s heart lurch.

  odd. They acted just like a family would. The scariest part of all?

  He loved every moment.

  He gazed at his wife, who was cuddled under a cream-colored afghan. The conflict raging inside grew more vio-lent. Sawyer knew he was hurting her by not being man enough to even admit he’d heard her confession. once again, the confirmation he sucked at dealing with real emotions dragged him down.

  Julietta loved him. The truth was in her eyes every time she looked at him. His ice queen was really a woman full of passion and goodness, opening her arms to a man who had once lived in garbage and walked in darkness. All he had to do was take her hand and take a chance.

  Maybe he could. Maybe, just once, this time it would work.

  “I forgot to tell you, some mail came for you today. It’s on the kitchen counter,” Julietta said.

  “Probably a bunch of bills. Let me check, be right back.”

  He walked into the kitchen and scanned through the envelopes. Then froze. The return address was stamped FISHKILL

  CorreCTIoNAL FACILITy.

  His fingers numbed and dread slithered through his veins. The past rose up from Dante’s Hell and entered earth.

  “I have to check something out real quick on the com-puter,” he called out. “Be right back.”

  He headed toward his office, shut the door, and ripped open the envelope. He unfolded it and read the words from his hated foster father.

  Dear Sawyer, Did you think that by changing your name and run-ning to Italy you’d avoid me forever? I know everything about you since you locked me up in this hellhole. You always did think you were better than anybody else. I took you in, gave you shelter, food, and you threw it back in my face. You should be in jail for killing Danny. You were such a pussy, you couldn’t stay for your little brother. He trusted you to care for him, but you left. Left him knowing what would happen. You’re at fault, too. Does that bother you at night, or have you forgotten him and moved on with your perfect little life?

  I’m coming up for parole. You may have put me in this place, but you’re going to help get me out. I need you to recommend my release, which will help me in court.

  I can hear you laughing now and asking why you’d do that. And I’ll tell you why. If you don’t, I’ll find a way from prison to destroy your reputation.

  We have a lot of time to think and plan in here. I’ll destroy everything you’ve built. I’ll leak the story to the press. Tell your sweet little family the shit you pulled, the way you killed your brother because you didn’t take care of him. Or have you just replaced him with that kid in your house and moved on?

  I’ll use my last dying breath to drag your past into the open. I’ve got nothing to lose. Do you?

  Send the written letter in care of the parole board address below.

  Sawyer shoved the letter back in the envelope and threw it in the desk drawer. He despised his automatic fear, a boy’s fear, and reminded himself he was a grown man.

  That it was over. He’d never give the asshole a way out of prison, a way to hurt other kids.

  The best memory of his life was the one of his foster father going to jail. once Sawyer lost Danny, he went straight to the social workers and exposed what had been going on for years. Within months, the piece of shit was behind bars for a long, long time. It was the only justice that allowed him to sleep at night.

  Now he was back.

  The other memory shoved its way into his brain and carved him in raw, bloody pieces he knew would never heal.

  An innocent boy on the streets was ripe for anything to happen. Danny had been looking for Sawyer, trying to find him, believing he was old enough to make it on his own.

  Instead, he’d fallen into one of the local gang traps and was caught stealing their food. There was a price to pay on the streets, and his brother paid the ultimate price.

  Sawyer’s fault.

  He stared sightlessly at the floor. His heart beat and air filled his lungs. Blood pumped through his veins. But inside, he was empty, a soulless being with a past that would never go away and that would continually remind him he was nothing.

  His fingers lifted and he traced the scar on his cheek. A reminder of what he’d almost forgotten. He was better alone.

  Julietta and Wolfe would be dragged into a mess, and poor Wolfe didn’t need that type of exposure. Not when he was just beginning to heal. He thought over the options for a long time before returning to the living room.

  Wolfe sat on the chair with the remote in hand. “ready, man?”

  His tone was wooden. “Sorry, guys, I gotta hit the bed.

  you two finish it up. My head’s starting to hurt, and I need some sleep.”

  Julietta studied his face, probing for answers. H
e forced a smile and left them.

  When she finally came into bed and slipped in beside him, Sawyer pretended to be asleep. He lay still for hours, throughout the night, and wondered what he was going to do.

  …

  Julietta sat in her office and stared at her sister. “Something’s wrong. really wrong.”

  Carina put down her coffee cup and looked at her with concern. “What’s the matter?”

  The itchy restlessness drove Julietta to stand up and begin pacing. The nugget of worry had now blossomed to a full-fledged attack. A few nights had passed since their movie marathon, and her husband was no longer the same.

  A faceless, nameless ghost haunted every moment, evident in the preoccupied look in his eyes, the distance carved out on his features when he spoke. He cited work and refused to eat dinner at home. He sidestepped her request to speak with him alone, ready with a list of excuses, and kept himself locked in his office or endlessly talking on the phone.

  He canceled an outing with her family and kept away from her mother’s house. When he wasn’t working, Julietta caught him staring at the wall, as if another place was on his mind. She’d tried to be patient and understanding. Tried speaking with him. even tried sex, but by the time he came to bed, it was the middle of the night, and she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep.

  “I think he got spooked. I told him I loved him the night we went out. During sex.”

  Carina swiveled her head around. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to have sex that night. We agreed, remember?”

  “Did you jump Max when you got home?”

  Her sister sighed. “yeah. you know I did. Alexa admit-ted her failure right away. And Maggie was pretty quiet and tame the next day, so I think Michael apologized properly.

  They definitely did it, too.”

  “See? Drunk women get horny. So, anyway, I told him how I felt after I seduced him, and even though he didn’t answer, he changed. He was more open before, happier.

  We were starting to gel as a family.” Back and forth she walked, her heels tapping. “But suddenly, during our Rocky marathon break, he came back in the room and acted funny. He’s withdrawn completely. I’m worried about him, Carina.”