by Marie Wathen
Marcus
Driving down the dark highway after dropping Breesan at her house, I get caught up in the memories of tonight. I will never forget the way she feels in my arms. Feeling her heart pounding against my chest, I yearn to turn the cadence of a painful cry to a cry for love. Passion seeps from every pore of her perfect little body, embracing me and warming my want. Needing to give more than I take, soothing her caged my very soul. Exposing simple things, raw longing, and hurts deeply buried awakens the affectionate man I never wanted to face again. Coming undone with her lips on my neck, I regret she stopped, but knowing her body draws to mine is thrilling. Can I have more? Will she let me into her heart? No. Regret presents it sadness, washing the blissful isolation from my heart.
How the hell do I expect to get over her now?
Why the fuck did I pull her into my arms?
Jesus, I'm playing with fucking fire
Dragging me through hell is bad enough but now I’m just fucking torturing myself. Knowing how much I want her, but can’t have her, is a living hell. If I had met her before getting involved in this damn job with Sam, I would be holding her for a helluva lot more than a few stolen moments in a damn truck. But if I start something with her, she could be in serious danger. Worse dangers than The Witch are lurking out there, waiting with the potential to harm her.
Unacceptable
I can't promise I’ll make her happy, but I can promise to keep her safe and alive. If that's the only promise I can keep, what fucking choices am I left with? As long as Breesan Maxwell exists she will hold my heart. God, she is in so much pain and it crushes me seeing her suffer. If I could trade it with her, I would in a moment without hesitation. I'll cater to her needs; any way she wants to play this is exactly what I'll do. Any relationship she allows me in her life...be it friends, lovers, I don't care what…I’ll take it, just as long as she'll let me in.
Needing to know why she hurts so badly, I run through what she told me. I know she misses her father and that she wants to find him. The Witch has been cruel and I want to make the bitch pay severely, but what else is tormenting her heart?
A new thought hits me like a sledgehammer. If I'm with her I can keep her safe. That's it. I'll just have to get closer to her.
Do I give a damn what the team thinks? Fuck no. I remember her smiles and laughs and know that there isn't a person or reason that can keep me away from her. I’ve only wanted to be in two real relationships and the last one was a fucking disaster, if you can even call that a relationship. The other I hope starts the next time I see Breesan, and I pray it doesn't have the same results as the first one.
Hating the position I’ve put myself in, I pull my head out of my ass and pull into the convenience store on the east side of town to refuel my truck. We ran every last drop of gas out of it touring most of the island tonight, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Hopping out of my truck, I pull my wallet from my back jean pocket. A loud police siren tap draws my attention away from the credit card scanner and I see Tristan pull in behind me with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
Great. I'm sure he's got questions. He pretty much told me we would be discussing what's going on between she and I. Might as well get it over.
"Hey Bubba, you're out late."
Jerking his gun belt up on his waist, he proudly parades toward me. I can't help but chuckle at him. Playing cops and robbers since we were kids, he’s living his dream. But will Beck Walker steal his dream from him and force him to work in the family business? Being the only son, he's facing a much tougher go at it than me. Fortunately, that's the one thing I'm grateful about with Morgan. He's the chosen son. He will lead Walker Corporation and I couldn't be happier about it.
"Big Mac Walkin’" Tristan sings merrily. Laughing, I replace the gas nozzle, dust my hands on my thighs, and give him my full attention.
"Man, you sure can come up with them." Continuing to laugh, he furrows his eyebrows and looks at me curiously.
"What are you talking about?" he asks mystified. Scanning through the front door of the store, he narrows his eyes on subject at the cash register.
"The nicknames. You call me everything but my real name." Does he not realize he's doing it?
Looking briefly perplexed, he turns, shooting a playful glare at me. "Oh do I? You got a problem with it?" Attempting serious intimidation in his tone, he folds his arms over his chest and smirks.
I snort, "No Bubba I don't have a problem with it. You can call me damn well anything you want. Why are you still out anyway? The storms have been over for hours."
"Checking on the businesses; some of the cheaper alarm systems don’t function when the power is out. Since I'm not getting paid, yet, they put me on the detail to do random patrols all night. I don’t give a damn - you know I love this job."
"What about Anna? I thought she was staying at your place tonight." Noticing the flinch when I mention her, I hope nothing is wrong in Loversville. If so, it would be a real shame. They have been together since we were kids.
"Yeah, it's not a good idea if I'm there with her now. She's in a mood." Sounding sad and finding something particularly interesting on the ground, he huffs loudly. I debate briefly on giving him space or lending an ear.
"Can't be that bad. Big nasty storm, big strong cop, and in uniform I might add, I bet she can't keep her hands off you." I laugh heartily, but his set jaw tells me he's clearly not amused.
"What's wrong Trist?" Giving in, I know this could be bad so I’ve decided to be here for him.
"Oh shit Marcus, you don't want to hear about my relationship problems." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he tips his head to the side scrutinizing my sincerity.
"Sure I do. You seem upset and I've got some time to kill. Want to head over to the Waffle Zone? You can buy me a few plates of fries and coffee, and then tell me all about it."
"A few plates? Fuck dude. Didn't you eat recently?" Innocently punching me on the arm, he chuckles, emerging slowly from his sour mood.
"No I didn’t actually. I just dropped Breesan off at her place before I stopped here to refuel."
"No shit? Damn, that lasted longer than I would have imagined. And how did that go?" He crosses his arms, casually leaning against the trunk of his patrol car. Detecting brotherly protectiveness, I don’t feel like sharing.
"It was fine."
"Hmm, sure Mac. Let's go get some plates of fries. I'll share, then you share and then when we're done we can go get our hair did together." He laughs, mocking a favorite pastime of Anna’s.
Thinking about Anna awakens a yearning in me, and I decide to tell him what I need. "Listen, I want to help Breesan….fuck!” Scrubbing my hand over the day old scruffy stubble on my jaw, I stand here hypnotize thinking about her and realize I’m deceiving both of us. “No that’s a lie Trist, I want her, but damn she's so closed off, and hurting, and lonely and I just…I need to know what to do.” Stringing my words together rapidly, I judge his reaction before continuing. He’s melancholy, but stoic so I carry on. “I don't know her well, but I want to know everything. She's incredible and I know that she has issues but I want her, fucked up issues and all. I want to be there for her and whatever it is that she's going through." He studies me for a long time, almost too damn long, but I wait him out because I need this badly.
"I think you and Morgan need to talk. I know that you and your brother have some shit between you that's stinking up everything around and I believe the little stinker dropped by Granddad's house recently. Trust me man, you can't sort you and Breesan out until you sort you and Morgan out. Something tells me that you already know this. But hey, it's your life, do it your way. Do you know exactly what the cute redhead was doing at Granddads?”
Shaking my head slowly, I won’t admit to him the reasons I’ve come up with for her recent arrival. "Not a clue. I damn sure don’t want her here.” Curiosity about Breesan reigns over Elise any day, but especially now and I’m perturbed that he shifted the subject.<
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"Yeah, okay. Well then let’s head over and get some food.”
We pull into the parking lot of Waffle Zone. A generator runs the minimal electricity for the crowded restaurant. Parking his patrol at the front door, I pull along his patrol car against the curb. Walking in together, the smell of sweet waffle batter and syrup assaults my senses and I debate on my choices. Chocolate chip pecan waffles it is. Sounds delicious and smells even better. We get our food before he decides to share with me.
"She's ready. I'm, well I’m just not," he says nervously, picking at his napkin on the tabletop. What did he just confess to me?
"Not ready for tonight or not ready as in you guys have never fucked?" Shocked by his confession, my words come out harshly.
"Crude much? Damn, Marcus hell no, we haven't done it yet. Anna is not some slut and I won't just fuck her. She's so much better than I deserve and I will never want anyone except her. It’s just there are things that have happened and she needs to know that I love her for more than her body," he explains exasperatedly, as he haphazardly digs cash out of his wallet.
Cautiously gauging his demeanor, I continue despite seeing him shift in his seat, possibly getting ready to leave this conversation and me.
“Man Tristan, I may not be the best person to talk to about relationships based on my history but…” Wildly, throwing his hands up, he cuts me off, as he slides out of the booth dropping the cash for our meal on the table.
“Just forget it okay? I’ve got shit to do I’ll see ya around,” he says decidedly. Daring me to push the subject, his voice is stern and his look is forbidding. I nod sympathetically.
Leaving the restaurant, Tristan gets into his patrol car and actually leaves me sitting there wondering what the hell is wrong with him. Something tells me this has more to do with Beck Walker coming home than his girlfriend’s needs, but I could be wrong.
Either way, I know what he’s going through on both accounts. As far as it goes with women and fathers, we’re in the same boat. As much as I cherish what transpired between me and Breesan tonight, I don’t have a clue what to do next and I sure as hell don’t look forward to seeing my father. Luckily with everything that is going on with the case, I don’t have time to focus on my father’s bullshit right now.
Kole got a tip that a large shipment is coming in and Dr. A will be making a special trip to ensure it passes without delay. As small as Willow is, we aren’t equipment to monitor every dock on the island. He could bring it on his personal yacht and there’s no way in hell we would be able to check each one. Damn near everyone on this island has an expensive ship. My duties to The Witch during the day and the team at night are kicking my ass, but soon they’ll both take a backseat in my priorities.
Chapter 17
Morgan
After running into Breesan at the coffee shop a few days ago, I have been thinking a great deal about her. Thanks to another tip off by Anna, I found her rather quickly at her favorite bookstore. Damn, I’m so grateful she’s alright. That bullshit at the club scared the living hell out of me. Hanging out with her, Anna, and Tristan after she was released from the hospital was actually pretty cool. Since the club incident she’s almost a different person. I learned a few things about her, but she’s still extremely closed off. I can tell I’m getting to her. Maybe she had the hell scared out of her too. Nearly dying will do that to you. I can’t imagine losing her now that she’s bored her way into my head.
Continuing to turn me down every time I ask her on a date is frustrating the fuck out of me. She’s such a good girl, I don’t typically do good girls, but she’s more than that. Incredibly funny, attractive, and sexy as hell, she’s tunneling her way into my heart. And damn, she hasn’t even confirmed if she will allow us to have a simple friendship. I've never had a friendship with a woman before. It's usually either business or sex with me.
With her it could be complicated since we have mutual friends, Tristan and Anna. For the first time that I can ever remember, I actually want to pursue a friendship with a woman. I can't say that I don't want to still take her to bed, but being friends will delay that – temporarily.
Knowing Marcus claims her as his baby and seeing the way he reacted at the hospital, I feel urgency in moving toward a deeper relationship with her. As far as I know, they haven’t spent any time together. And that is good for me. She and I have an established friendship. He doesn’t have shit with her. Upon my observation, their reaction toward the other mirror almost identically. But is it hatred or passion that burns in their eyes as they stare when they think no one sees them?
Either way I’m keeping my eye on him. Having our share of complications when it came to a certain beauty that recently thrust her focus back on us, I can't guess her angle. But I know I don't want to include her in our mix. Opening that door again, Marcus won’t be able to resist her. Perhaps Elise returning could be a good thing after all. She could distract his attention away from Breesan and allow me the chance to show her a different man, a better man than she’s seen in me before. Still, I can't help to wonder what made Elise follow us home.
Acclimating myself with work all week has kept me from seeing her as much as I want, plus I really haven't had much freedom since the afternoon of the big storm. Meetings, videoconferences, and personally introducing myself to the staff at headquarters, I haven’t had any time to find some free time. Begging will grant me the relief I need to get the juicy little brunette to cave and agree to a real date. She is a complicated little minx and when I'm around her all I can think about is taking her to my bed. Luckily, I have a source of outlet for all the frustrations she causes me -- Waverly.
Finally finding some free time last night, I hung out at a beach bonfire. Jack and Ian have a place close by so I dropped by on my way home from the office. Last night was an epic night of Tanqueray and I definitely over did it.
That's what led to me finding myself in bed with a sexy little kitten all curled up warm in my arms this morning. Looking at her lying on her side facing me, I think back to the great sex we had last night. She damn sure knows how to distract me when work is demanding. The ungodly amount of alcohol I consumed helped, but she seems to always know just what I need. Sleeping with Waverly for the past few years is fucking amazing. She doesn't want shit out of me except what I give her in bed. Unlike most women who whip out their claws the moment they know you have money, she doesn't do relationships, none that she's ever mentioned to me. She doesn't have a perfect halo but she's an angel to accept that all I can offer her is a no-strings-attached lay. We are young and having fun; no sense in letting bullshit like feelings complicate it.
Tracing the pad of my thumb along the arched pattern of tiny stars that climb across her shoulder and up her sexy neck, I worship her artwork. Tattoos are one of the sexiest fucking things I’ve ever seen on any woman’s body. Driving her wild is easy. Pressing my lips to just one of these sexy stars is all it takes and I own her. I’ve kissed those stars on her neck hundreds of times.
I smile, thanking the lord for stars. I’m so fucking turned on by thinking about it that I have to bite back a groan as my dick aches with need for my little star. Just fucked hair and eyes a mix of blue and white, perfectly blended as beautiful and crystal clear as what I imagine the heavens looks like, I need her. A white sheet stretches across her chest, tucked under her arms. It covers her beautiful, small breast—the babe is a heartbreak waiting to happen and she damn well knows it.
Just not my heart. She belongs with any other guy. Guilt works its way into my heart. Staying over was a bad idea. I really should leave now. Why does she have to look and feel so wonderful lying in my arms? We really need to stop our little affair, but she is the closest thing to heaven in my fucked up world.
What the fuck did I just think that for?
Hearing her soft breathing change, I scratch my head, forcing away stupid fucking thoughts and avert my eyes to her face. "Hey." Looking up at me through thick lashes, she catches me looking. H
er eyes twinkle and I stroke my fingers up her tattoo again.
Mygod she's beautiful.
Clearing my throat, I chide myself then respond casually. "What time is it?" I ask apprehensively. Needing to get my ass out of her bed this very instant, I control my tone. Sleeping over is not an option and she can’t think this will happen again.
Because it won’t.
Her eyebrows draw in tight in frustration. "I'm not sure. Early? There's an alarm clock on your side of the bed." she sighs quietly, rolling to face away from me.
Shit why do I always hurt her? Rolling on my side, I glance at the alarm clock on the table noticing it is early and I must go.
“Shit, I've got to go.” I sit up on the edge of the bed, "I'm picking up my folks at the airfield in an hour." Moving a little too quickly causes instant throbbing in my head. I slap both hands on each side.
Shit, how much did I drink?
Feeling the bed shift as she slides close behind me, she drapes both arms around my waist - followed by a trail of kisses from my hip upward. Raising my arm, she stops but lays her head on the bed next to my hip. I stare down at her until she smiles up at me. Reaching down, I pull a small wild strand of hair that is now a purple shade on the ends. We have amazing sexual chemistry and she definitely knows what she is doing. Her seduction skills can also be words used to describe an artist’s masterpiece. She is evocative, unguided, grandiose, vivid and even pure.
I've never been with a woman more in control of herself and who gives me such pleasure. I am her only sexual experience but you wouldn't know it by her ability to please me. She's more generous than I ever am to her. I lean down and kiss her lips. She runs her tongue along my bottom lip, encouraging my mouth to open for it. She swirls and flicks her sweet little tongue against mine as she lets out a soft little whimper. I pull away before I can't and she pouts.
"Want me to hop in the shower with you? You soap me up - I soap you up," she asks in a husky voice, nuzzling against my hand.