Be All

by Marie Wathen

  With his thumb continuing to lightly graze me, he repeats its path along my sensitive skin, torturing me; no he is torturing us. Blazing with desire and need, his eyes reveal his dangerous plan is backfiring. We are both imprisoned by the delight of this natural disaster.

  “You are so damn responsive Baby. I can’t keep my hands off of you.” A hoarse groan escapes his throat and I lick my lips, anticipating more touching.

  Need more touching.

  Deliberate, subtle movements testing for the odd sensation, he again strokes my tender flesh. It’s not there; this time it’s been replaced with a humming in my ears, a sizzling under his pressure, and a jolt accelerating my already rapidly beating heart. He is breaking me apart with every stroke and I bask knowing that his torture knows no bounds.

  A thoughtful look passes across his face after a few moments. "Dance with me Baby," he purrs through clenched teeth.

  Ohgod. He purrs for me.

  His hedonistic sounds have my body responding with an urgent desire to please him, wanting more of these luscious rewards. Realizing that he has spoken, it finally registers that he’s calling me Baby. Feeling a bitter piercing deep inside, I exhale, attempting to soften the ache. Literally strangers at the beginning of this evening, we are now suddenly different, but the affectionate title cautions of an ultimate shattering. Momentarily mesmerized in the memory attached to the term of endearment, I stare, locked in his smoldering, emerald eyes.

  Comprehending his words beyond the nickname, I snap out of my dazing. He is asking me to dance – no his request is more of a declaration. Linking my petite hand with his giant one, another surge of foreign energy passes between us. My belly begins tightening from the sensation of his possessive hold; my body responds with a soft moan. He tugs my hand to his chest, bringing me into an intimate embrace.

  His powerful and alluring muscles beg for my contact. I fight with all of my willpower against the instinct to squeeze as I lay my right hand on his thick, sculpted shoulder and he leans further into me. Forcing my eyes away from his chest and shoulders, they begin to travel up his jaw line, finally resting on his hooded gaze. Taking a deep breath, I send up a silent prayer hoping that I can make it through just one dance without embarrassing myself.

  Seeing my anxiousness, he smiles and says, “This won’t hurt. I know you feel this between us, don’t you Baby?” He challenges adoringly, the quivering in my stomach violently contracts with his affection.

  “Yes, but I can’t…” Dammit. Barely breathing the words out, a crushing force deep in my soul screams that this bliss will hurt, I must be on guard.

  He is dangerous to my protective wall, yet the desire of my body draws me closer to him. My heart rate increases while his warm hand slides up my bare back, tracing the edging of my dress with his thumb.

  “Shhh, Baby just let me hold you. We won’t talk about what’s happening between us. We’ll just dance, but I need to hold you a little longer.” His face is so close to mine that his breath flutters across my eyelashes, causing my breath to stutter and my heart to hesitate.

  Holy hell!

  Scorching, I desire him. Desire is a feeling I have never accepted in prior relationships, and I can’t explain why I hunger for him.

  Mine

  I blink rapidly, as if the action will clear the thoughts from my mind. Recovering from my wanton behavior, I attempt speaking but my words start as a stutter. "I don’t – dance. I – I can dance I just – I choose not to with someone who – who can make me feel this, I don’t even know what this is, but I suddenly do not want to dance,” I confess with mild courage – although the strength in my words is bogus, and I pray he doesn’t notice.

  The music lingers in the air swirling around us on the quiet balcony. It’s loud enough to adequately understand the words, yet soft enough that it emphasizes our romantic setting. Absorbing my words, he just stands here, his eyes consuming every detail of my face and fiercely clutching me to him. No movement, no talking, and no dancing. Perhaps he’s changing his mind about dancing with me.

  Why doesn’t he move?

  Is there a logical explanation for what is happening between us? Why do I desire him so desperately? He can’t affect me one moment, like now, and then not at all, like earlier at dinner. There must be a logical explanation. Now enough time has passed that it just feels ridiculous.

  Dancing with Morgan was not something I desired during dinner but now something is different, off. His cockiness is gone, replaced with something genuine and that terrifies me. Realizing I can’t do this with him, I pull hard from his arms, leaving the warmth of his embrace, and turn to walk away. I hear his footsteps closing in quickly. Hot hands land on my bare shoulders, grabbing then roughly spinning me around. He pulls me painfully to him, my chest against his chest, pressing his hand flat on my nude back. A new electrical charge skims from my neck down to my toes causing my breath to sputter. Reacting from this new sensation, I swallow down a quick breath and hope this is not the start of a panic attack.

  He moves his face close to mine. "I don’t understand what you mean. Please tell me what to do.” Frustration dominates his features and mine reflect them. He raises his hand to touch my cheek but drops it too quickly. My eyes bore into his and I see a flash of fear.

  Noticing his hesitation, I step back and give him the answers he desires. "You don't know me and trust me, you don’t want to either. I am completely confused about what is happening between us. You don’t have to do this,” waving my hand between the small spaces that separates us, I continue, “I just...” I squeeze my eyes shut, unhappy with the thought of what I’m saying but push through. “I think it would be best if we just stop it here.” I blow out a harsh breath. I can do this if he will just release me and let me walk the hell away.

  Forcing away his confusion, he softly speaks. “It’s okay. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But I was honest when I said I want to hold you. And I don’t ever do anything that I don’t want to.” His look becomes hungry. I whimper because he’s saying the things that I want, but I know I shouldn’t. “And I don’t give a damn if you can dance. It’s just you and me, right here and right now. You can lean on me and we will dance around this place all night. But I need to hold you, Baby," he demands.

  Yes, please hold me.

  Biting down hard on my bottom lip, I nod slightly, allowing a soft moan of ecstasy to escape from my barely parted lips. He responds with a deep breath and draws me brutishly against him again.

  Slowly, he begins swaying us to the rhythm of a Jason Mraz song playing in the distance. Our nearness is particularity intimate with his hips writhing roughly against mine. My cheek grows hot while resting on his empowering chest. Surprisingly, I love the feel of his body against mine.

  At dinner, Morgan appeared fit but marginally lean and brawny. Being this close to him and touching his powerful shoulders and arms, I can tell that he is not just fit but that he works out, a lot. I can feel the dominant heat radiating off this strong man’s form.

  He is perfection. Morgan’s charm, flawless body, and the unexplainable sensations I’m experiencing are a dangerous combination.

  Even though it’s disastrous, I want this. I’m in so much damn trouble.

  He bewitches me. Being with him is a risk that will be a terrible distraction. He jeopardizes my plans: leaving without commitments, sheltering my heart from love and avoiding the pain it creates, and breaking a very important promise. My body heat continues to rise as he holds me. Admitting that I want him sexually is easy and something that I can deal with, but what if he wants more?

  No, it doesn’t matter what he wants, I’m in control and this must remain simple.

  But I really want more of him.

  My body cries out that this is lust, but my mind and soul echoes something else. Because of that absurd thought, the need to escape him just intensified beyond anything I have ever felt. Until the song ends, I’ll just keep repeating to myself that I have a p
romise to keep. An internal struggle is pulling me in every direction. One way or another, I have to hold it together – even if it’s just long enough to get through one dance.

  Calming my mind, I settle into the rhythm of our swaying bodies. I really love the way he moves us. He invokes a confident feeling that I have never experienced with another person. He moves us effortlessly in the darkness. Something new settles over me. I search my memories for something similar to compare this unfamiliar sensation to; the words resonating loudly in my mind are that he feels like home.

  Home. Ohgod that sounds so amazing.

  My heart clenches at the thought. I suddenly understand the meaning in all of the romance novels I’ve read when a characters claims that someone, rather than a place, is home. My body and soul recognizes him as my home.

  No. My mind goes on alert as flashes of pain assault me.

  What am I thinking? I can’t stay in his arms like this all night. I shouldn’t have even allowed myself these few minutes to fantasize about such stupid shit. He has skillfully charmed me, but I can’t allow myself to be the target of his charm bombs any longer.

  As interesting as this evening has been, and intriguing as this man is, I am a realist. I am conflicted as hell, but the bleakness of no potential for us weighs heavy on me now. Dammit. I'm the one who demands that we restrict our contact to this one and only night. He’s agreed and prior to this dance, we have managed to keep it cool.

  I just don’t know what’s gotten into me. For once, I am literally wishing that I knew what it feels like to be desired. I want him to desire me more than any woman he’s ever held. For one night, could he be just a man and me be just a woman? I simply want just one night filled with love in every possible way without running from my past or future expectations,

  I want him so damn bad.

  You can’t have him.

  Oh Mygod, this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever felt or done.

  Can’t I just enjoy a moment in this man’s arms? A man who makes me feel like a woman without thinking it has to be about something more. Damned thoughts like this can get me in real trouble. Fuck, I must focus.

  Glancing around the open area I see – what do I see? It’s so dark out here I can’t see a damn thing. I can only hear and feel, and all I feel is him. I groan inwardly at his big arms holding me and his hand sliding over my back. His fingers digging into me cause goose bumps to rush along my newly sensitive skin. He grips me like he wants to possess me, or like he can’t get close enough to me. Damn that’s sexy as hell. My thigh slides between his and I can tell that he is completely turned on by me.

  Oh hell.

  It’s a preposterous idea to think I can focus on a damn thing besides the sexiest man alive holding me. Don’t let me go Morgan.

  Comforted by his strength and reassuring embrace, I actually relax for the first time tonight. Feeling me relent, he snuggles me closer. He’s much taller than me but with wearing my four-inch heels tonight, my head reaches his chin. His face tilts downward so that his mouth lies just above my exposed ear. His heavy breath is hot on my skin.

  Several quick intakes of air and I think he is going to speak, but he remains silent. Drawing his face away from my ear, he looks longingly at me. Staring at his succulent lips, I urgently lick mine, wishing it was him who is licking them. He swallows hard and I force my attention back to his eyes. They bore into me the entire time and I battle against getting taken in by dreamy, green goodness.

  We dance across the balcony in a comfortable silence, as if we are completely alone in the castle. Our time together only spans the length of a few songs, but for me it feels like a lifetime. All time and thought is lost in his embrace and some forgotten part of me wants to remain here.

  Please, please don’t let me go yet.

  Unable to form a coherent thought, I’m happy that we’re not talking. Uttering one word while being held by him would cause me to blurt out lord knows what kind of rubbish. It would probably be something monumentally embarrassing like “you’re hot.” Silence is safe.

  Lazily, his hand begins drawing mind-numbing circles along my spine and this new experience drives me wilder. My breathing becomes deeper and I breathe against his warm chest. His manly scent consumes me.

  So damn sexy.

  It is cinnamon, sandalwood, and man. I am intoxicated. My heartbeat betrays me when he finally breaks our gaze and I notice a momentary look of stress wash over his face. He moves his mouth close to my ear again, finally breaking the silence.

  “This has been a very interesting night. You were… unexpected. I wonder if I will ever see you again,” he whispers oh so very close to my ear.

  Swallowing back the desire to blurt out “hell yes”, I hold my breath until I can gather my wits to speak. I run the thought of us through my mind. Could we spend time together? What would it lead to between us? Friendship, sex, or love, all the things that I’m not prepared for with anyone, but what about him? Helping out Tristan is what this blind date is about, not starting a new relationship.

  Repeating our encounter is not an option. “No, I’m afraid this is a one-time deal. Soon I will be off to school and you, well you have family commitments." Plastering on my best fake smile, I continue jokingly, "I release you so you may go forth and date without the awkwardness from the ‘first date’ pressures. You can move toward your destiny.” I know my eyes betray my words and he notices too. Confused, his look reflects mine.

  He pauses, contemplating my words, then responds, “My first date? But I...” Before he could complete his thought, I hear Anna’s voice calling me from the ballroom. Stepping out of his embrace, I notice his disappointment.

  “I think we should get back inside. It’s getting late and I really have to get up early in the morning,” I say breathlessly, hoping he will let won’t argue.

  He hauls me back into him and leans in with his lips lingering very close above mine. I can feel his hot and sweet breath rushing past my parched lips. His warm hand wraps around the front of my neck, tilting my head backward and forces my chin upward. Tingles zap across every inch of my body with anticipation of his kiss. His eyes bore into mine until I lick my bottom lip. He immediately drops his gaze there, creating a magnetic tension that tightens the air around us and makes it difficult to draw in air.

  He murmurs, “I…” Pausing, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes tight and returns his gaze back to mine. His actions confirm he feels the unexplainable current between us too. He says disappointedly, “Let’s get you back to your friends.” Desperate for an escape but not wanting to appear eager, I nod my head slightly.

  Affected as much as me, his eyes are a heated pool of contained lust. Releasing the hold he has on my neck, he places a searing hand on the small of my back. Thankful that whatever mesmerizing link between us will soon come to an end, we return to our table. Shattering my self-control with some strange bondage he has on me, I must remain detached. If I were to allow him into my heart he would consume me, be all I ever dreamed, possess me, and ultimately hurt me.

  I can’t allow him to have my heart.

  Chapter 5

  Marcus

  Love will never be an issue for me. Permanently wounded through infidelity and family betrayal as a result of love, I have no vacancy in my heart. Fuck the lot of them! Unconcerned with family obligations, my plans go beyond the small world of the damn Walker Corporation. I want my life to mean something. I always feel like I’m looking for something more.

  Dreams of changing the world to make it better, leaving a positive legacy behind, and helping people, is a meaningful life. Joining the Joint Drug Task Force Division of the DEA last fall was the best decision I’ve ever made. Becoming the youngest member of our department and moving quickly into undercover work was no easy task. Strings got pulled, and at first they wouldn’t budge; typically, twenty one year old agents aren’t brought in on cases like the magnitude of this one, but in the end, the department amended their prior order and sent m
e to Willow.

  I was happy for the distraction that work brings to my life because it will keep my focus exactly where it needs to be, on my future. Pursuing the Gulf of Mexico Cartel back to my hometown has my already overprotective nature skyrocketing to high alert. Protecting my family will be a priority, even if it includes my backstabbing twin brother, Morgan.

  Currently working on the inside with a contact that is one of the cruelest women I have ever met – she would sooner slit my throat than turn on the drug boss she’s currently having an affair with. Due to this, I am constantly watching my back; I’m not the only person on her crooked payroll.

  Consisting of three of my closest friend, our team is small. However, according to our commander we are a collaboration of the best young law enforcement officers, claiming it’s an honor working alongside us.

  Martial arts expert, Kole De Luca, is a four-year veteran Special Agent with the DEA. He’s my closest ally in this undercover operation and my best friend.

  Our commander, Captain Rhys Bentley is one of the meanest Law Enforcement Officers ever. He doesn’t take shit off anyone. I met Rhys four years when he and Sam, the fourth member of our team, were together.

  Supplying Intel is Sam’s primary role and we depend on her for keeping our asses out of the spotlight as well. She is the most important member to me and she reciprocates the feeling.

  Returning home last week with a secure cover and forged credentials, I must remain undercover. For their protection, I can’t have those I care about discovering my current employment status in this unit or my security detail.

  The Witch, as I like to refer to her, is deeply integrated in the Gulf of Mexico Drug Cartel, led by the infamous Dr. A. Eluding the DEA for nearly twenty years, he has been abusing Willow Island using it as his personal portal to the mainland and supplying locals with the newest man-made drug, Ryske. There’s not much documentation about Ryske at this time. The minimal information we do know is that it is a combination of well-known illegal substances, both depressants and stimulants, mixed with other undetermined ingredients. Ryske is quickly earning its name throughout the Southeast after the rash of deaths caused from just the smallest amount of overindulgence.