Rude Awakening

by Veronica Chadwick

  It could have been moments or hours before they finally untangled from each other. He wasn’t sure. The moment had been raw, submerged in the surging pleasure of his own orgasm he was aware of nothing but Jaimee. After a few moments he stood and lifted her to her feet. Immediately her arms wrapped around him as she looked up at him. Those gorgeous, luminous eyes were so full of emotion and vulnerability it made him hurt.

  “Lucas, don’t leave me tonight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Hell no, he wasn’t going anywhere. There was nothing he wanted more than to take her to bed and hold her, love her, never let her go. The emotion clawed at his heart. He couldn’t leave her, not tonight, not ever. With a low groan he kissed her and she opened to him on a sigh. That sweet little timid tongue of hers made him want to do even more scandalous things to her.

  “But, if you keep kissing me like that we’ll never make it upstairs,” he murmured against her mouth. Her sheepish grin had him chuckling as he took her hand and led her toward the stairs.

  “Oh man, I have to finish the apples,” she sighed, looking at the work she’d left unfinished on the counter.

  “Leave ’em.” Tugging gently, he urged her to follow him. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

  She shook her head. “No, but I can’t just leave that stuff sitting out all night.” She pulled away and he watched ,appreciating the alluring way her voluptuous ass swayed as she walked into the kitchen. It was still rosy from her spanking. She was such a lush beauty.

  Pulling her shirt over her head, she gave him a quick smile. “It won’t take me long to just put the stuff away.” The ridiculously oversized shirt covered her to mid thigh.

  “What did you have to go and do that for?” He didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. She stuck her tongue out at him as she busily covered the pot of cooled caramel. “Don’t stick it out unless you plan to use it.”

  She lifted her brows at that and stuck her tongue out again, quickly glancing down at his burgeoning cock. “Amazing.” She grinned mischievously at him. Damn she was adorable. With a surprised yelp, her playful seduction turned to befuddlement as she stared down at his pants rumpled on the floor by her feet. “Lucas. Your pants are vibrating.”

  Giving her a crooked smile, he bent to pick them up. “My cell.”

  “Ah. I figured.” She laughed.

  “Grayson,” he said without taking his gaze from hers.

  “Where’s your fucking phone been, Grayson?”

  In my fucking pants, Butler, he wanted to say. Which were lying on Jaimee’s kitchen floor. But because Jaimee was close by, instead he just said, “You found me.”

  “You got The Pope.” Michael’s voice was edged with irritation.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There wasn’t a whole lot she could glean from his phone conversation but she did note the muscle ticking in his jaw and his eyes narrowing slightly before he turned his back to her. And what a fine back it was. Her fingers itched to trace the sinewy muscles that bunched with every movement, grip that tight ass. With a sigh she brushed past him as she crossed to the laundry nook and dropped her shorts and panties into the washer. She turned to find him watching her. Ruthless determination had displaced the wicked playfulness that had his eyes sparkling earlier. Now they were cold, angry.

  She frowned and mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

  Without answering, he reached out to her, his eyes warming just a bit as his fingertips skimmed over her cheek. Finally he shook his head and gave her a crooked smile, but the change in his mood was disconcerting. Who was he talking to anyway? Unsure whether she had a right to ask she chose not to, not right now. But a heavy feeling of foreboding had formed a lump in her throat. Later. She would have to ask later. For now, she shook it off, tilted her head against his caressing hand and whispered as quietly as she could, “I’m gonna go upstairs and take a quick shower. Will you be up?”

  “Hold,” he grumbled into the phone before putting his thumb over the receiver. “Apparently,” he said, his gaze flicking downward to indicate his meaning. It was unbelievable but he was still rock hard and ready.

  “Amazing.” She shook her head slightly. To her relief he smiled down at her and his dark mahogany eyes glowed with passion.

  “Your fault.” He winked, then kissed her gently. “I’m right behind you.”

  She shook her head again as she walked away. This incredibly potent man with god-like good looks was her lover and he made her feel wanted. Any minute she would wake up. Damn it, she couldn’t fall for him, could she? He’d said she was his. Did he mean that? Did she want him to mean that? And could she possibly hold a man like Lucas, forever? Good God she was way out of her league.

  She knew so little about him, and his changing expression during this phone conversation made her wonder. Maybe he had secrets; possibly those secrets could end up hurting her. That he wanted her was no secret, she was sure of that. Her hand on the banister, she paused, blinking as she sorted her thoughts. This altogether new emotion was exhilarating and uplifting. There was hope, there was anticipation and a desire to reach for more. There was a distinct need to let go of her past and transcend the present. Sheesh. She sounded like one of those motivational speakers. How many times did she deny it when her mother told her she wasn’t happy, had never been happy, ever? Wow, had she been right the whole time? Had she never been happy, until now?

  A scraping noise coming from the living room interrupted her introspection, distracting her from this fresh revelation. She took a step back from the stairs and narrowed her eyes to see better into the darkened living room. The shadow of a silhouette stood at her sliding glass doors working on the lock. Anger flared to life within her and she reacted without hesitation. In the hall closet beside the stairs she found her Louisville Slugger. Hefting it over her shoulder, she cautiously peered around the corner. The asshole was still there, still working on the lock. Idiot.

  Adrenaline took over as she sprinted across the narrow hall back into the kitchen. Lucas said something as she ran past him but she didn’t have the time or the inclination to stop.

  “Shhh. Call 911. Someone’s trying to break in,” she said in a harsh whisper as she went through the swinging door into the dining room.

  As best she could she pressed herself into the angle made by the china cabinet and the far wall to wait. When the bastard came through the door, she’d clobber him. She had just inched forward a couple of steps before Lucas’s arm circled her waist and pulled her against him. His chest was like a rock wall and she could feel his heartbeat strong and rapid. He’d pulled his pants on, but his cock was still fully erect and unyielding pressed against her backside.

  “Go back through the kitchen and upstairs,” Lucas whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “Keep the bat. Lock the bedroom door.”

  She stiffened. “Hell no. This is my damn house,” she whispered back harshly.

  His hand gripped her upper arm and jerked her roughly, pulling her behind him as he went back through the darkened kitchen, then across the hall, giving her no choice but to follow. At the stairs he spun her around and she gasped at his expression. The shadows across the hard planes of his face made him look brutal and menacing. There was deadly violence in his eyes, nearly black as onyx. “Just go. Do what I told you.” He growled through his teeth and she scowled back at him defiantly. “Jaimee, don’t fucking piss me off.”

  Too shocked to speak for a moment, she stared up at him, her heart in her throat. However, it didn’t take long for her anger to override her surprise. Piss him off? Ha! He had no clue. She didn’t care how he made her feel, she’d be damned if she’d allow him to boss her around. He towered over her, glaring at her as if he expected her to dutifully cower and obey. Did he think her a too-stupid-to-live little twit, some pitifully weak damsel in distress? Oh hell no. She’d always taken care of herself and she wasn’t going to be a coward now that he’d barged into her life.

  “If you think—” She had begun to tel
l him just that when his mouth descended on hers. His lips were hot, hard, his tongue swept over hers. Unlike any kiss she’d ever experienced from Brent or any other man it conveyed his dominance, fierce and unrelenting.

  “Go. Now,” he commanded her as he released her and left her swaying for a moment while he slipped quietly out the front door.

  It took her breath away. She shuddered under the onslaught of conflicting emotions that bombarded her mind at once. For a moment there she forgot all about the danger and wanted him to throw her against the wall and fuck her mindless. At the same time she wanted to scratch his arrogant, Neanderthal eyes out! He didn’t know what pissed off was.

  Fuming she ran back through the kitchen to where she had been when Lucas got all “Mr. Big Man” on her. Damn him. She hoped she got a swipe at the idiot trying to break in. She seriously needed to hit something. When she heard something crashing into her grill the possibility of Lucas getting hurt entered her mind. To hell with waiting. She ran for the sliding glass doors and fumbled with the steel rod she’d laid in the track after she found the files in her office messed with. She watched the two figures struggling on her patio. God what if the burglar had a knife, or a gun… she silently prayed. She found the door was already open when she went to unlock it.

  It was so dark, all she could see as she stepped out into the cool night air was Lucas’s bare back as he grappled a man, dressed in black from head to toe. She squinted and hefted her bat, ready to swing when she got a clear shot. He was probably about three or four inches shorter than Lucas and not as big. The intruder’s fist glanced off Lucas’s hard jaw, hardly even making contact before he reeled back as Lucas clocked him.

  The intruder recovered pretty quickly and came back for more, shoving Lucas against the concrete wall. One, two blows to the gut in rapid succession had the intruder doubling over in pain and backpedaling, trying to escape Lucas’s fists. As Lucas advanced on the man again, Jaimee saw the glint of a blade in the intruder’s fist. Taking the split second chance she had to bash the asshole in the head, she gritted her teeth and leapt forward without hesitation.

  “Fuck!” Lucas pivoted when he saw her, effectively throwing himself between her and the intruder.

  The intruder’s head snapped up, startled, then he immediately bolted. The breath whooshed from Jaimee’s lungs with a relief that was short lived. Lucas cursed viciously as he took off after him.

  “Lucas!” she yelled. Oh hell, he should have just let him go. Jaimee ran back into the kitchen to the laundry alcove. With shaking hands she fished her shorts out of the washer and pulled them on. The intruder had on a ski mask so identifying facial features was out. He’d spun away and ran too quickly for her to even see what color his eyes were. But she could tell the police about his height and build. Maybe it would help a little. The police should arrive any second. Should already be there. Surely Lucas called them. Why weren’t they there yet?

  She was heading back to the patio when Lucas stalked through the open sliding glass doors, the ski mask clenched in his fist. His expression was frightening, his eyes blazing with rage. His jaw was tight and fury had color blooming high on his cheekbones. A dark red rivulet of blood slid down his arm from a gash in his shoulder. Jaimee shuddered then, grappling with her sudden fear. She stiffened her spine.

  “You’re bleeding. He cut you,” she stammered, fear slithering through her. “You should sit. I’ll get some clean towels…I think I have some peroxide…”

  “It’s not deep. Just get dressed.” His voice was hoarse, as hard and as cold as marble. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him again.

  “If you had just waited I could have hit him in the head and he wouldn’t have gotten away and you wouldn’t be hurt. Really, this is your fault.” Her voice was a bit too soft, too weak. She scowled to make up for it.

  His eyes narrowed on hers as he advanced on her, stopping himself a few feet away. “Men are coming. Go get dressed.”

  She shuddered again. He looked as though he wanted to kill her with his bare hands. He wouldn’t, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. But if he was going to be this mad just because she chose to defend her own home, and him, rather than run and hide then it was time she learned about it now. Swallowing, she braced herself. “I am dressed. Lucas, you need to understand something…”

  “Jaimee.” His voice was a low rolling thunder and it shook her to her core. “Go upstairs. Dress in something that won’t have every male in sight drooling over you. I won’t be able to deal with it tonight.”

  All she could do was blink, her mouth open. The muscles of his upper body bulged with tension. It seemed as though he was struggling to keep a tidal wave of emotion at bay, to breathe evenly.

  “Lucas…” she whispered.

  “Goddammit!” he roared, then closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Just fucking do it now or I’ll carry you up there and dress you myself.”

  Anger she had expected, but this was more than anger. When his eyes met hers again she hesitated, torn between wanting to tell him where he could shove his attitude and wanting to do whatever she could to drive the cold dark hatred and pain from his eyes. It gripped her heart and squeezed so hard she gasped. It was true that his strength and dominance drew her to him and made her feel secure and free. But she didn’t think she could abide this. She would be no man’s puppet. Finally she turned, paused, and then swallowed hard as she walked away. She guessed it had all been a dream after all and now it was time to wake up.

  Rage boiled inside him, so much rage he trembled with it. God, he’d hurt her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. The way the clear blue light dimmed in her eyes and turned stormy silver-gray had ripped at his heart. Crystal tears had welled up in them, shimmered there, but refused to fall. Even now he wanted to go to her, his arms ached to hold her, make it all go away. But there was nothing he could do, he couldn’t explain right now. Looking down at the knit ski mask in his hand, he cursed viciously. He’d lost him. Jaimee was right. It was his fault. The fucking waste of carbon had jabbed at him, nicking his shoulder, slipped out of his grip and pulled a fucking pistol. He’d gotten away, but not before Lucas saw his face. In that split second everything he’d hoped for, his world, had shattered into oblivion.

  With a roar, he punched the wall, leaving a crater in the drywall but it didn’t make him feel any better. There was only one solution. This shit had to end. The only thing left to do now was protect Jaimee. Make it as easy on her as possible. Until then it was going to be pure hell. He’d fix it for her if he could. Jaimee had shown him his heart. In her sweet, innocent way she had staked her claim. Everything he was belonged to her even if she would never be his.

  He swung open the front door after the first sharp rap. Michael stood, flanked by two uniformed police officers. Behind them stood Malaki Zareb Papalu, a six-foot-eight mountain of a man. Known as “The Pope” because of his unshakeable faith, indisputable wisdom and exacting justice. They said the man was psychic to boot. Nevertheless, he was the best. When it came to Jaimee’s security he wouldn’t accept less. Very seldom did Lucas have to look up to anyone and it was unnerving to have to do so in this case. The Pope’s expression was closed, his obsidian eyes sharp and assessing as Lucas narrowed his eyes and motioned them back, stepped outside into the cool autumn night.

  Butler opened his mouth to speak but Lucas cut him off. Thrusting the mask into Butler’s hands, he whispered low and harsh, “Brent Turner is still alive. If you want to keep him that way, you’d best find him before I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Every light in the house was on downstairs, the glass doors were open, and her small patio was crowded with men. Jaimee had taken the time to shower before dressing. She’d needed the extra fifteen minutes to gather her chaotic emotions and get them under control. She looked at the uniformed men surveying her home. Any control she’d managed to reclaim hold on was tenuous at best.

  Lucas stood outside with his back to her. He still hadn’t
put his shirt on and the muscles of his back were tense. There was a small bandage on his arm now. It stood out brilliant white against his tanned skin. Almost instinctively she wanted to smooth her hands over the rigid muscles, to soothe him. He stood just a little taller than the other man, his hands on his hips, his feet braced apart, aggressive. The other man had his arms crossed over his chest, his body tense and unmoving, and his expression formidable, angry. Odd. Her perceptions must be off.

  Everything was off kilter. She stood there in her flannel lounge pants and baggy T-shirt, her hair still damp and unbound. Overwhelmed by her own inadequacy, she shifted from one foot to the other. She wasn’t used to being so unnecessary. The bewilderment and confusion wasn’t something she dealt with easily. She scrambled to sort the maelstrom of emotions from her tangled thoughts and make sense of them. She just couldn’t seem to reason past the dull pain gripping her heart. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and fought to still the tremors that had begun to rattle her once again.

  Manage, dammit, she admonished herself. Let your mind rule your heart. More than a philosophy her mother had instilled in her, it had been her creed, her failsafe. It gave her strength. Emotions come and go. Logic is steadfast and will not fail you. Feelings will lead you astray. Let wisdom, knowledge and reason guide you. She steeled herself, determined to face whatever came next. Determined to remain calm, confident and levelheaded, even if she had to fake it, she lifted her chin and walked toward Lucas. She combed her fingers through her unruly mop of hair, pushing it away from her face and swallowing hard.

  The man standing with Lucas nodded, indicating her presence almost imperceptibly as she stepped through the glass doors. Lucas abruptly turned his head and caught her gaze, watching her as she neared them. Resisting the urge to turn and run she forced herself forward. His eyes were dark and angry. He didn’t touch her. Almost since the moment they’d met he’d reached out for her as if he needed the contact. She hadn’t even realized he did that or that she’d come expect it until this moment. For the first time he went so far as to cross his arms to avoid touching her. The slight rejection had pain ripping at her heart. For what had to be the zillionth time she reminded herself, You never really knew him.