Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You (Surviving Absolution Book 2)

by Nikki Belaire

  “Today, maybe. But, what about a year from now? Or twenty years? Will she still think I’m a wonderful husband and father?”

  The bodyguard nods, meeting his hard gaze without waver. “Yes.”

  “What if I disappoint her? What if she regrets this? I can’t hurt her any more than I already have.”

  "She’ll put up with all the other bullshit too, because, as hard as it is to fucking believe, she loves you.”

  A smile he can’t hold back crosses his lips. She really does. “It is unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, because you are one stupid fuck. This is it, Nick. You’re either all in or you’re not.”

  He meets Max’s eye and nods. His friend is once again the genius. “I’m in. Completely.”

  “Good. Then get the hell out of here. Go to your wife, and leave me alone, so I can enjoy my cake in peace.”

  Taking the steps two at a time, Nick sprints to her, needing to reassure both of them of his commitment. Darkness engulfs him as he pushes the bedroom door shut behind him. Her body still cuddles under the blankets, her hands tucked under her chin. At peace. Content. Safe. Beautiful.

  He climbs in behind her, tossing the pillow pressed against her back to the end of the bed. Her fingers entwine with his at his hand curling around her waist. Holding the two people who make him complete.

  “I must have been dreaming.” Sleep wobbles in her scratchy voice. “I thought you were gone.”

  He kisses her neck and pulls her tighter. “Never. I’m always here.”

  Silky hair tickles his cheek as she nods, her body relaxing, snuggling in closer. “Me too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Nick pounds into the bag again. Pain like knives slice through his throbbing arm, but he can’t stop. He has to keep his body and his mind busy, reigning in his irritation while his beautiful wife talks to Team Shae, confessing to them she married without their permission or approval.

  He swipes at the sweat burning his eyes before his right fist makes contact with the vinyl. Fuck them. She doesn’t owe them jack shit. They work for her, but somehow seem to think it’s the other way around. Manipulating her for their own purposes, chastising her for living her own life.

  “It’s just a phone call.” Max braces his feet from the force of the hit. “She’s got it under control.”

  “If it was me—”

  “But it’s not. This is her career, and you have to let her handle it.”

  “I’m down here, aren’t I?”

  He swings again. Forcing himself to be in the basement gym while she works upstairs in his office. Fighting against everything churning in his gut not to race up there and remind them what it would be like to deal with an asshole rather than the sweet angel they’ve been lucky enough to have all these years.

  Metal vibrates from the weight rack, and Max shakes his head. “Hold up.”

  He steps back, and the bodyguard releases his grip on the bag before grabbing his chirping phone off the row of hand bells. His eyebrows lift after he swipes the screen. “Luther’s here.”

  The attorney showing up unexpectedly can’t be good. His pulsing muscles stiffen. There’s going to be fucking hell to pay if Max’s informants didn’t warn them about a warrant. “For what?”

  “For her.” A smart ass smirk crosses his friend’s face as he types. “Shae called him. You must have fucked up pretty bad if she’s already calling a lawyer.”

  “Fuck you.” He rips off the tape securing his glove as Max laughs. “What is it?”

  “Attorney-client privilege. That’s all he’ll say.”

  Today is not the day to fuck with him. “Don’t think I won’t kill his stupid ass. Yours either.”

  “I’m not scared. You’re not the boss anymore, remember? You gave it all up yesterday.”

  Nope. The exact opposite. He gained everything when she accepted his commitment. Her eyes sparkling at his promise to be a better man, to be the person she thinks he is. Yet, his confidence is not as strong as hers, waning at the fear rolling through him at her need for legal assistance, wavering from her calling for Luther instead of him.

  “Just hold the fucking bag.”

  Max stares at him, disbelief lining his forehead. “That’s it?”

  “What?”

  “You aren’t going to jet up there?” His friend lets out a long, low whistle. “You really are a changed man.”

  He slams his fist again. Only for her. She said she would let him know when she’s finished, protecting both of them from his disgust with her manager. As always, shielding him and Gail from each other. Now all he can do is wait.

  An hour later finds him in the office doorway. Finished with his workout and shower, he breaks his promise to stay away. Unable to refrain from coming to her. The need to know what’s going on too great.

  She’s so fucking beautiful sitting in his chair, rubbing her hands across the leather arms, deep in thought. “Can I come in?”

  Her face lights up at his voice before she even looks up, slaying him with her happiness he’s there. God, he’s a fucking lucky bastard.

  She flashes her ‘what are you up to?’ smile. “Of course. It’s your office.”

  “Not anymore. Max reminded me you’re the boss now.”

  “Well, then I guess I better play the part.” She leans back and props her pink heels on the desktop. “Come here.”

  Fucking shit. She has no idea how sexy she is. “I don’t sound like that.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Fine. What else do I say?”

  Long hair sways across her shoulders as she shakes her head. “Uh un, it’s too bad to repeat.”

  “Not anymore. I’m going to stop swearing for the baby, remember?”

  Her bubbly laugh echoes across the room. Too smart to believe his bullshit. He can’t hold back and strides toward her, ready to take her out of his office and back to their bedroom. She reaches for him and grasps his hand, her soft fingers curling around his as he drops down on the edge of the desk.

  “I did it. I fired Gail.” Her eyes widen, waiting for his reaction.

  Pride pounds in his chest. All she’s ever wanted, but too fearful to do. Until now. She finally accepts what he sees in her. The strength she gives to him she can now use for herself. “I’m impressed. You knew what you wanted and made a tough decision. The right one.”

  Pinkness tints her cheeks, glowing at his compliment. Humbling him that she values his opinion. Thrives from his approval. “I had Luther look at my contract and walk me through what I needed to do. It’s going to cost me—”

  Fuck that. No way he’ll let her feel guilty for even a second. “I’ll cover it…” He catches himself and shakes his head. This is hers. Her decision. Her moment. “Whatever you need to do. It’s worth it.”

  “I can’t perform now. Not like I was anyway.” Her hand brushes across her stomach, a sweet smile touching her lips. “And I want to take a long break after the baby’s born. I’m not sure if I’ll even want to go back to it.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “It’ll be weird. I’ve been doing this since I was in high school. I don’t know anything different but recording and touring.”

  And bearing the weight of supporting her mother and a whole team of ungrateful people through her hard work. The one and only thing he agrees with Jason about—they’re all rich because of her sacrifices. But that stops now. Her needs come first this time. “This is what you want. You can stay home with the baby and then, when you’re ready, look at scripts.”

  “Thank you for supporting me on this.”

  “Don’t be too appreciative. I’ve got ulterior motives.” He strokes her cheek, her skin bright with happiness. “I won’t have to figure out how to survive you being gone.”

  “Yes, but now you’re stuck with me. Unemployed and two more mouths to feed. Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  The best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him. “I think I can mana
ge it.”

  She tucks a wayward hair behind her ear, her gaze dropping in hesitation. Just like his stomach at her uncertainty. “I did something else.”

  “What?”

  “I stole your idea. I’m giving my house to Carrie and Nathan. I bought it for my mom, and I don’t want anyone else to live there.” Her words come rushing out, as if she needs to justify her decision. Unaware she can do whatever the hell she wants. “She won’t have to move, and they can—”

  “I think it’s great.”

  Her face lights up, relief filling her eyes and huge smile. “Really?”

  “You’re a good friend.”

  “It’s more for me than it is for them. It makes me happy. I just hope they like it too.”

  Only his angel could feel guilty about being so generous. Regardless of the issues her mother had, she raised a woman with more kindness in her heart than anyone he’s ever known. “Your mom would be proud to know she has such an amazing daughter.” His hands glide to her waist, drawing her up to stand between his legs. But still not close enough. “Just like I am.”

  Love mingles with lust in her eyes, and she tugs on his shirt. “You’re pretty special yourself.”

  Every nerve in his body lights, the inferno roaring at her fingers sliding over his chest and around the nape of his neck. He’d give his last breath just to feel her body under his hands. His mouth skims to her throat, sucking on the delicate skin shivering underneath his lips. “Let me show you how much.”

  “Okay, but I have to do something first.”

  A growl radiates against the cashmere at her delay. Nothing is more important than him loving her. Of him reminding her how much he needs her. “What?”

  She laughs and tries to wiggle out of his embrace. He forces himself to drop his arms, and let her go. For two seconds. Then it’s on. She walks backward to the door, her gaze never leaving his as her tongue brushes across her lips before they curve into a mischievous smile. Up to something. But he’ll play dumb. For now. “What are you doing?”

  A subtle tsk clacks against her teeth as she frowns and shakes her head. “Locking you in. Now that I’m in charge, you have to do my bidding.”

  The click of the deadbolt ricochets across the room, and she strides forward, leaning over the wooden top. Yet just out of his reach, her eyes twinkling with the challenge. “Whatever I say. Here and now.”

  God fucking damn. The playfulness he’s missed returns in full force, stirring his groin like pulling the pin from a grenade. He has to have her. “Okay boss lady, I’ll do anything you want.” He side-steps the furniture at her wide-eyed smirk and lunges forward, twisting the fabric of her dress and pulling her against him. “After I make love to you.”

  “That’s so inappropriate, Mr. DeMarco. I’m your boss, not your—”

  An irrational growl rumbles in his chest. The titles may mean the same thing, which he willingly accepts. But there’s no way he’s going to let her say the words, denying what she means to him.

  She squeals at his fingers tickling her ribs. “Okay, okay. I’m your wife.” He draws her tighter, her delicate hands resting on his biceps, her chest rising and falling as her laughter dies away. “I’m your wife.” Their eyes lock as she cups his cheeks, touching his face to hers, her voice falling to a whisper, “And you’re my husband.”

  Her fingers roam down his chest to his belt, slowly sliding the leather out of the loops, her gaze burning, never breaking from his. Nothing more seductive than a woman who knows what she wants and makes sure he understands too. His breath hitches at seeing her confidence. In him. In herself. “Fuck, sweetness.”

  “Yes, that’s the idea.”

  It’s all over when she breaches the waistband of his boxer briefs. Her delicate fingers touching him, owning him, controlling every muscle, thought, and emotion. His entire being at her gentle mercy. Warm breaths singe his earlobe.

  “What do you want, Mr. DeMarco?”

  He forces the words out through gritted teeth, rocking against her flexing grasp. “You.”

  “Then tell me what I like to hear.”

  Mimicking him. Driving him to the brink with her words and her touch. Caressing him to the point of no return. “I love you, Shae.”

  A second hand joins the first, urgent strokes over and over his sensitive skin. He grips the desk edge to keep from slumping backward under her ministrations. “Good, but not quite. Try again.”

  “Sweetness?”

  “Better, but still not it.”

  Fucking shit. She wins. “Mrs. DeMarco.”

  “There you go.”

  Yes, he does. His fingers drive through her hair, and he pulls her mouth to his, trapping her hands between them in his urgency. Still gripping his hardness. Unable to hold back, he grinds against her. Needing to feel her around him. To be inside her. Now.

  Only a sliver of space separates them as he slides her dress over her head, grazing over her satin skin. A soft moan leaves her mouth at his fingers brushing her hardened nipples straining through the thin material covering them. Her hands tangle with his, searching for the clasp to release the soft mounds while he kicks off his pants and boxers.

  One last barrier between them. This time, he won’t change his mind. He lays her back, his finger circling the string at her hip before twisting and ripping away the flimsy fabric. She looks up at him, her chest heaving, wearing only her stunning smile. His sweet, beautiful wife bared for him. Nothing and no one keeping them from each other.

  Standing between her spread legs, he licks a slow path from her throat to the hollow of her breasts. Fingertips brush over her pink lips before trailing down her neck and resting on her pounding heart.

  His.

  Her back arches off the worn, scuffed surface as he glides lower, caressing the slight burgeoning curve of her gorgeous stomach. Almost overwhelming him that his baby grows inside her belly.

  Theirs.

  He covers her body with his, needing every inch of his skin to touch hers. She lifts up, her mouth crashing into his, her tongue swirling, fighting to pull him deeper. Exactly what he’s going to give her.

  Palming his length, he rubs it between her silky folds before pushing inside, slow and decadent.

  Hers.

  They’ve got all the time in the world. The breathless gasp escaping from her throat fuels his need, and he buries himself completely. Her body responds, lifting up, welcoming him, meeting him each time, matching each hungry thrust. Arms around his neck, hips rocking against his, calves squeezing his thighs. Giving one hundred percent of themselves to each other.

  Again and again, he plunges deeper. His sweat mixing with her flowery essence, the most powerful drug he’ll never be able to live without. Right now, it’s just him inside her heaven. Nothing else exists.

  She licks her lips, swollen against his. “I…” Her raspy voice spurs him farther, needing her to come undone underneath him. Needing his wife to truly be his. One last drive before she cries out. “I know you love me.”

  God, yes, he does.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shae’s thumb strokes Nick’s fingers as they walk with Max to the front desk. A nauseating mix of bleach and orange scented air freshener turns his stomach. The lavish flower arrangements and expensive furniture unable to camouflage the gloominess radiating through the hallways.

  A teenage girl with a blonde ponytail and hot pink braces steps out of one of the rooms, pushing a white cart piled with books and magazines. Her eyes widen after her double take at Shae. “Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s you. I’m your biggest fan. I swear to God I cried the first time I heard ‘Letting Him Go.’ See, look!” She holds out her arm. “I actually have goose bumps.”

  Shae smiles and winks at him, a hint of sparkle remains in her eyes after their love making earlier. “Thank you. That’s one of my favorite songs too.”

  “Can I have your autograph? Will you sign my hand? No, my stomach!” The girl lifts the hem of her lime green tee. “Here�
��”

  “Sarah!”

  They turn to the voice at the end of the hall. A light-haired woman in a tight, black suit strides toward them, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry for her unprofessional behavior. We encourage youth volunteers, but… Anyway, I’m Marilyn Chastain, the chief administrator here. How may I help you?”

  “I’m Nick DeMarco. This is my wife, Shae.”

  Her face takes on a sympathetic frown as she nods, probably honed from years of experience. “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. DeMarco. Please come this way to my office.”

  They follow her down a short, beige corridor lined with a white handrail. She motions for them to take the seats in front of her massive desk, glancing at Max standing in the doorway before turning back to Nick. “I have the papers in order, marked with the places requiring your signature. But, before that, do you have any questions?”

  He reaches for the pen and signs the first line before she finishes speaking. Nothing to ask when all he needs to know is that the bastard’s dead. Shae’s caress on his thigh is the only thing he thinks about.

  “Once the procedure is complete, we’ll file all of the proper paperwork and documentation. His body will be transported to the coroner’s office for an autopsy—standard procedure in this type of situation—then he’ll be moved to the funeral home of your choice.”

  He nods and slides the forms back to her.

  “Thank you. Now, I’m sure you would like to spend some time with your father before we proceed. I’m happy to escort you to his room.”

  Nope. They’re finished here. He takes Shae’s hand and stands up. “Thank you, Mrs. Chastain. That’s not necessary.”

  Her eyes widen as she strokes the over-sized button at the throat of her white blouse, a nervous habit she probably doesn’t even realize she has. “Well, I…”

  “Nick?” Shae’s soft voice is full of goodness he doesn’t feel.