Stand & Deliver

by Rhenna Morgan

  The details kept him focused. Kept him grounded in the present and detached from the painfully physical manifestation of his need for touch. The scorching burn from muscles held too tight for too long, and the impulse to feed his weakness no matter the cost.

  He punched the key card in the room’s lock, his fingers shamefully unsteady and his arms trembling from fatigue as he pushed the door open and guided Gia inside ahead of him. The door latched behind him and his lungs expanded fully for the first time in hours.

  Touch.

  Take.

  Now.

  As if she’d heard his thoughts, Gia paused beside the bed, shrugged off the prim jacket she’d worn for dinner and locked eyes with him. Waiting. Willing. She knew him. Accepted all that he was. His high-handed bullshit. His need to dominate and protect her. His fucked-up disorder.

  And she loved him anyway.

  The knowledge soothed him. Settled him as sure as a caress along his spine even as it made him ache for more. He forced himself to move slow, crossing the room in a gait that he hoped demonstrated confidence and calm, rather than the greedy desperation gnawing on his bones. When she lifted her hands to the tiny buttons on her white shirt, he caught them with one of his own. “No.”

  “Beckett, you need to give in. You’re hurting.” She splayed her hands above his sternum and stroked up to the top button on his own shirt. “Let me help you.”

  Before her fingers could latch on and start working, he nudged her backward until she sat on the foot of the bed and crouched at her feet. She had no idea. No clue that she’d gone so far beyond helping him it was laughable. She’d saved him. Reforged the bridge that had been burned to his heart when he was far too young and then boldly stormed across it and claimed it for her own.

  “I’ll get what I need.” He slid one shiny black patent leather heel off. A peek-a-boo pump, she’d called it when she’d put them on earlier. All he knew then was that they were sexy as fuck and he had serious plans for them in the future. The second heel thudded to the floor and he pulled her to her feet. “Tonight, you come first.”

  She started to argue, but he cut her off by trading her places, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her between his knees. He tugged her silk shirt free of her tailored black pants and slid the first button free. Then the next, not stopping until both sides hung loose, exposing a long, tempting line of her creamy skin.

  “Take it.” She moved in closer, her voice as soft and encouraging as her hands stroking over his shoulders toward his neck. “Touch me, Beckett. Take what you need.”

  God, he wanted to. Wanted to savagely strip every stitch of clothing off them both and blanket her body with his. To drown in all that was her and not come up for air for days.

  “Beckett, look at me.”

  He gripped her hips and forced his eyes away from the sweet stretch of flesh up to hers.

  “I didn’t mean for how I felt about you to come out the way it did, but I meant it. Every word.” Slowly, she peeled her shirt free of her shoulders and let it whisper to the floor. “Part of loving someone means when they hurt, you hurt, too. If you won’t touch me for you. Touch me for me. Ease my ache.”

  So much skin. Petal-soft skin he could easily bruise in his current frame of mind. That flushed when he did something that shocked the hell out of her and right before she came. That bore the marks from his beard when he had a mind to leave one. “You deserve slow.”

  She slowly unfastened her pants and wriggled them past her hips, dislodging his hands in the process. “Slow or fast doesn’t matter. What does is feeling the man I love touch me exactly the way he needs to.”

  A silk ivory bra that lifted her perfect, full breasts up for him and a matching lacy thong that accented her curvy hips. That was all that stood between him and the feast he wanted. He leaned in and her clean ocean scent surrounded him. Warmth beneath his palms. Her skin. Soft. Giving. His tongue flicked out for a taste and his fingers dug into her hips. A sound that scared even him rumbled up his throat. “Gia.”

  It was the best warning he could give, his tone conveying more than his mind could offer with words.

  She wrapped her arms around him, one hand sliding firmly along his spine and the other spearing into his hair and encouraging him to take more. “I want you, Beckett. I need it. Just like you want to give it to me.” She fisted the hand in his hair. “Please.”

  A plea. A stark need that matched his own and snapped the leash on his control. One second she was in front of him. Barely three heartbeats later, the bra and panties were gone and she was under him, his mouth consuming hers, her legs splayed wide over his thighs and his hands taking full advantage of her bared body.

  Muted pops and pings registered in the back of his mind and Gia groaned into his mouth. She arched her back and neck, breaking his unforgiving kiss even as the soft skreetch of fabric tearing mingled with their frantic breathing. “Beckett...” Her hands skimmed his bare abs, his pecs, his shoulders and biceps, the touch as hungry and demanding as his own. “Fuck, you’re burning up.”

  More tearing and then the room’s chilled air settled on his skin. He groaned, palmed both of her tits and squeezed as he sank his teeth into the soft skin where her neck and shoulder met.

  Her body bucked beneath him and her nails dug into his back, but the ragged cry that went with it spurred him harder. Lashed the beast into a deeper frenzy and encouraged him to take more. She fumbled with the button at his waist, the action putting too much distance between the two of them to tolerate. With a frustrated growl, he rolled to the side of the bed and shucked his shoes and socks. “Don’t move.”

  She did anyway, nudging him just a little farther beyond reason when she shifted to her knees and crawled toward him, her voice low and husky. “I’m not feeling obedient at the moment.”

  He surged upright before she could reach him, shoved his pants and briefs free and caught her with a fistful of hair just as she lunged forward, her kiss-swollen mouth just inches from his straining cock. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with...” He tightened his grip and tried to pull her away, but she fought the tension. “Don’t push me.”

  Her gaze shot to his, every hot exhalation from her mouth whipping across his shaft. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with.” She leaned a little closer, the sting it earned her along her scalp showing in her wild eyes. “And I want all of him.”

  An odd stillness moved over him. The eerie calm before the storm. A predator in the frozen seconds before it struck.

  She must have sensed it because when he cupped the back of her head and massaged his fingertips along her scalp, she stayed frozen in place, her wary gaze locked on him.

  He moved in closer, guiding his cockhead along her lips.

  She parted her mouth, ready to welcome him, and her tongue flicked out for a taste. “You think you can scare me.” Another lick. “But I’m not afraid of you, Beckett Tate.” She pressed her mouth against the root of him and beamed a wicked smile up at him. “Not even a little bit.”

  A toss to her back that landed her in the center of the bed. A flip to her belly. Her cheek to the mattress and her ass in the air. His hands on her hips and his dick poised and ready at the mouth of her.

  And then he was there. Buried to the hilt in the hot clasp of his woman.

  Home.

  Whole.

  Loved.

  She widened her knees farther, tipped her hips higher and pushed back into every thrust, not just accepting his wildness, but demanding more.

  He gave it. Pounded into her welcoming heat. Stroked her sweat-dampened skin. The backs of her legs. Her ass. The flare of her hips. The long line of her spine. He blanketed her back, one hand braced by her shoulder while the other skimmed up her inner thigh to her drenched sex. All for him.

  He circled her swollen clit, not quite giving her the pressure she needed to get o
ff.

  She bucked beneath him, tossing her head and baring her neck in the process. “More. Harder.”

  Fuck no, he wasn’t giving her more. Not yet. Every detail was too vivid and he was too greedy. Too lost in the slick fist of her pussy. In the sweet give of her body. In the slap of his hips against her ass and the drugging scent of Gia and sex.

  He sunk his teeth into the tender junction at her neck and shoulders and she cried out, her hard nub jumping under his fingers.

  “Beckett, goddamn it!” She wrapped one hand around his wrist anchored against the mattress, ground back harder and growled to rival something that would have come from him. Her nails dug deep and her cunt tightened around his cock.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He jerked her upright, banded one hand around the front of her throat and cupped her mound with the other, holding her steady for each thrust. Their eyes locked in the mirror mounted over the dresser across the room, both wild and weighted with lust. Her dark hair spilled untamed to her shoulders, a priceless silk against his sensitized skin. And her tits. Fucking full and beautiful. Bouncing with every unmerciful stab of his hips.

  He tightened his arms and crushed her to him, the fingers at her throat squeezing, not tight enough to mark or hurt her, but enough to make his point. His voice came out strained. Grated and thick between ragged breaths. “Say it again.”

  She lifted one hand from the death grip on his thigh, reached back and cupped the back of his head. The other covered his hand at her sex, her fingers encouraging his to move faster. “I love you.”

  His nuts drew tighter.

  She fisted his hair and rolled her hips. “I love you.” Erotic-as-hell flutters rippled through her sex. Her eyes slid closed and her muscles vised around his cock. “I love you.”

  “Fuck!”

  He surged to the root, his own release powering into hers. Filling her and freeing him all at once. No more pain. No wanting. No more stench of lacking tainting his insides. Just him and the woman he loved. The woman who loved him.

  In and out, he savored the slick glide of his cock inside her hot sheath. Held her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Breathed all that was her into him as the last of his tension floated away.

  Hips undulating lazily in sync with his, Gia stroked him—one hand dragging tender fingertips through his hair and the other petting the stretch from his wrist to elbow. Her legs trembled and her head lolled heavy on his shoulder. She rolled it toward him and nuzzled him with her cheek. “Remind me to push your buttons more often.”

  So sweet. Already absolving him of the rough treatment he’d dealt her with her playfulness.

  He smoothed his fingers around her throat and pressed a soft kiss to her neck, the pulse beneath his lips still finding its way back to normal. He skimmed his mouth along her jawline and guided her face to his. “No talking, gorgeous.” He nipped her lower lip and palmed the back of her head. Threaded his fingers in her thick hair and held her steady. “Not yet.”

  He kissed her with everything he had in him. Every hope. Every need and fear he’d kept hidden for as long as he could remember. It all went into that moment. With her body flush against his and his cock still rooted inside her. Only when she tried to twist her body for more of his kiss did he pull away.

  The lust-filled daze that had weighted her eyes before was gone. Replaced with a languid awareness and tenderness that moved across him like a warm spring breeze. She knew. Had to know how deeply her acceptance moved him. How tightly it bound him to her. If she didn’t, she would soon. In word and deed.

  He tucked her close and leaned forward, gently laying her on her belly. Red marks marred her hips and sweat beaded along her spine. He traced each spot. Gave her the gentle care and attention he’d wanted to in the first place and caressed her arms, shoulders, back and thighs.

  A shiver worked through her and goose bumps lifted across her skin. Much as it killed him to lose the connection, he pulled free of her welcoming heat and rolled her to her back.

  “Beckett, let me—”

  He cut her off with another kiss. This one gentler than its predecessors, but no less effective. Satisfied he’d settled her for the time being, he pulled away. “Stay put and let me take care of you.”

  “But Beckett—”

  He cocked an eyebrow and she snapped her mouth shut, a lopsided smile playing on her lips.

  In the bathroom, he took care of himself and got what he needed for her, his heart ramping right back up to the double bass drum rhythm it’d churned out minutes before. He’d done a lot of shit in his life. Dangerous and sometimes flat-out stupid shit. But he’d never been as aware and focused as he was when he walked back in the bedroom.

  Gia waited, propped up on her side with an elbow underneath her and one knee cocked a little higher than the other. One hand moved a little uncertain across her belly, as though she couldn’t quite figure out what to do with it.

  Not once in the time since they’d gone without condoms had she let him see to her afterward, skittering off to the bathroom with one excuse or the other. He understood the hesitation. It was a whole different level of intimacy. Maybe not as sexy on the surface, but as honest as things got in the way of caring and he wanted that for her. Wanted her to know she could count on him no matter what the situation.

  Kneeling on the bed near her feet, he urged her to her back, but she kept her knees bent and tucked to one side and her cheeks flamed a pretty pink.

  He gently cupped one knee.

  She bit her lip, the flush on her cheeks and collarbone deepening.

  “Baby, it’s me. Let me do this.” He skimmed his thumb along the inside of her knee, all too aware of the goose bumps beneath it. “Let me take care of you.”

  Maybe it was the phrasing. Maybe it was the tone behind the words. Whatever it was that got through, she hesitantly parted her legs and bared herself to him.

  He understood. More than she probably realized. Hell, if she had any clue how nervous he was about getting the next few minutes right she’d lose all self-consciousness and laugh herself silly.

  He tended to her, mindful of how rough he’d been with her and her sensitive skin. When he was done, he killed the lights, scooped her up and tucked her under the sheets. She curled toward him the second his arms slid out from under her, her brown eyes wide and studying him in the mix of Atlanta’s downtown glow and moonlight.

  He cupped her face and soaked every second of it up. Her skin was so much lighter than his. So soft compared to his rough hands. Her lips were always full, but now they were puffy from his kisses. Beautiful.

  She loves you.

  It still rattled him. Probably always would. But he’d protect and shelter that love with everything he had in him. Wouldn’t let it go. Not ever. And he’d give her all of him. Even the words that he’d never uttered to another soul in his life.

  Sliding in beside her, he propped himself up on one elbow and pulled her close, giving her a little of his weight and his warmth. He smoothed her hair away from her face and cupped the back of her head. Made sure she could see his face and every emotion that moved through him. “You okay?”

  She dipped her head. A single, cautious motion that echoed the heightened gravity coiled around them. “Are you?”

  He smiled, the lightness she’d created inside him surging forward and punching a hole through his nervousness. “A beautiful woman I’ve watched and admired for years told me she loved me tonight and then met the basest side of me pound for pound in bed. I’m way past okay.”

  Her cheeky grin rivaled the full moon outside their window. “You were pretty intense.”

  Intense was putting it mildly. He had no doubt the red marks at her hips would turn to bruises before morning. But she’d been all in. Completely into every second of it. His match. In everything. He tightened his hold and sucked in a deep breath, his heart k
icking so hard it hurt. “I know it yanked your chain about Judd being there tonight. I know you were pissed at your parents and their digs toward me. But what you said tonight—the fact that you not only said it to them, but threw it in their face—gorgeous, you need to know, I’ve never felt more awed. More grateful and proud than in that second.” He swallowed hard and his throat constricted to the point his voice cracked on the rest. “And you need to know—I love you, too. Have for weeks.”

  Her eyes widened, glittering with wonder in the bright moonlight. She trailed her fingers through the scruff at his jawline and studied his face as though searching for some hint she’d misheard his words. “You do?”

  “Knew it the day I couldn’t find you. Took me another handful of days after that to admit it, but I knew. My mother’s the only other woman I remember loving this deep. Or maybe I just loved the idea of her. I lost her.” He tried to swallow, for all the good it did him, and his voice dropped to a low rumble. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me.” Absolute conviction. Not even a shred of doubt.

  “I can be an asshole.”

  She grinned, undaunted, snuggled up against him so he had no choice but to settle in and hold her tight, then sighed, repeating the words she’d given him earlier. Only this time they were thick with love and contentedness. “I’m not afraid of you, Beckett Tate. Not even a little bit.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  So far, so good. Aside from some protesters waiting outside the hotel when Gia’s primary, Governor Lansing from the great state of Florida, arrived yesterday along with his entourage, Beckett hadn’t seen any threats to warrant the level of detail that had been demanded. Granted, the guy was an incumbent and had done more than his share to choke out drug suppliers in and out of the US, but not once had Beckett tweaked to suspicious activity. Certainly nothing on par with the attacks allegedly threatened by several cartels.

  Now, Judd on the other hand... Judd had tweaked Beckett plenty in the last thirty-six hours. From the second the varied teams had met up early yesterday morning, to this afternoon’s pre-event glad-handing with elite donors, Judd had undermined Gia at every turn. Questioning her decisions in front of everyone. Subtle digs about her ability to handle such a large-scale endeavor. Even purposefully ignoring the more detailed checks and balances she’d laid out. It all seemed to be fair game to Judd, and Beckett was chomping at the bit to clock the bastard.