by Ashe, Karina
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to celebrate. Don’t forget to tell the parents, and Hope, and Elias. I’d call Hope first—you’ll never hear the end of it if she finds out secondhand.”
“God.” Marcus tightened his grip on her. “Can we just elope?”
“In your dreams, baby brother. Mother and Hope would hunt you down and force a proper wedding on you. Congratulations, Marcus.” He moved forward and kissed her. “Welcome to the family, Leah.”
Marcus growled. Graham let her go, winked at her and walked out.
She touched her cheek, knowing the blush was fierce. “Graham is so different than I expected.”
Marcus stared at the door. “That’s more than he’s talked to me in months.” With a shrug he let it go, and pulled her into his side. “What do you say, sweetheart? Are you still all in, even after the threat of meeting my family?”
“It will take much more than that to get rid of me, Marcus.”
“Thank God.” He slid his hand up her back, easing her down until he could reach her lips. “I love you, Leah Frane.”
“I love you back, Marcus Hawkins.”
Life was about to get interesting.
Eight
Graham helped Leah bring Marcus home.
After almost three weeks in the hospital, Dr. Richards and the other specialists deemed it safe for him to be more than a few feet away from assistance.
Marcus didn’t say a word as Graham pushed his wheelchair into the penthouse. Leah thanked heaven it was a single story. There would be fewer accommodations needed until he got better.
And he would get better; if she had to browbeat him into doing his physical therapy, she was more than willing. As long as she got him back, as whole as they could make him.
“Where to, Marcus?”
“You can park me near the bed, Graham, and go.”
“I don’t think Leah’s strong enough to haul you into bed by herself.”
Marcus’ shoulders stiffened. “I don’t need your help—”
“You’re going to need everyone’s help, baby brother. At least until you get back on your feet.” Graham crouched in front of the wheelchair, eye level with Marcus. “Tanya tried to kill you, Marcus. I’ve never been so scared in my life, so damn helpless.” He gripped Marcus’ hand, and Leah saw tears glittering in his blue eyes. “I want you to make a full recovery, walk into her trial, on your own, and show her crazy ass that she didn’t win.”
Marcus let out a choked laugh. “You’re not defending her?”
“She requested me. Can you believe the nerve on that woman?” He smiled, and the mood lightened. “I went to see her, in her mustard yellow prison jumpsuit, and said no to her face. It was the most satisfying thing I’ve done in a long time.” He squeezed Marcus’ hand. “Let us help you, little brother.”
“Thanks, Graham.” Marcus swallowed. “I’ll probably be an asshole.”
“Oh, there’s no probably about it.” They smiled at each other, and Leah knew she had found an ally in Graham—one as determined as she was to get Marcus healthy and whole again. Graham pulled Marcus up and lifted him, settling him on the bed, careful of his left leg. “I’ve got to go. Let her spoil you, while you have a valid reason.”
Marcus studied her, and she blushed. “I plan to.”
She walked Graham to the door, and he surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you, Leah—not every woman would stay, not when there’s a chance he may not be the man he was.”
“He was injured protecting me. And I love him. I’m not going anywhere.”
Graham kissed her forehead, and let her go. “He’s the luckiest man I know. Call me if you need anything. Day or night, Leah.” He ran one hand through his hair, the last weeks finally showing themselves on his face. “We almost lost him. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless again. And I’m not going to be the asshole brother anymore, who never sees his own family.”
“You just had your priorities wrong, Graham. Now they’re back in place.”
Chuckling, he opened the door. “Marcus is damn lucky he saw you first, Leah. You’re a keeper.”
She watched him leave, then leaned against the closed door, exhausted and scared.
Dr. Richards had given her pages of instructions, several contact numbers, and directions to call him immediately, no matter what the time, if Marcus showed any sign of distress.
“What have I gotten into?”
Taking care of the man you’re going to marry, that’s what.
Her heart pounded, joy and terror fighting for space.
She was going to marry Marcus Hawkins.
“Leah?”
“On my way!” She ran into the kitchen and grabbed a couple bottles of water out of his fridge, smiling when she saw that it was fully stocked. Bless Graham.
She almost dropped the water when she saw Marcus sitting up, trying to undress on his own.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He paused, glancing up at her. “I need a nap.”
“You should have waited.” She set the water on the nightstand and helped him pull his jacket off.
“I want my pajamas off as well. They’re too damn hot.”
“Okay.” She ignored his flash of temper, too worried about hurting him.
“My leg is still mostly numb, Leah. Touching won’t hurt me.”
“Marcus—”
“Please.” He swallowed. “I can’t do it myself.”
She nodded, knowing how hard it must have been for him to say that. “Let’s start with your pajama top.” With his help, even after her gently slapping him away more than once, she got it unbuttoned and off him.
His bottoms were next—and would be the challenge. She took a shaky breath, and slowly untied the drawstring, careful to avoid touching the heavy bandage on his left side. She had to lean over him and slide her hands under his ass, pushing the thin cotton down until her fingers touched the back of his thighs.
He growled as her hands slid across his bare skin. “Stay right there.”
“Marcus—”
“I want to admire the view. I’ve missed you, Leah. Missed feeling your hands on me, touching you.”
How he felt was more than obvious. His erection tented the loose front of his pajama bottoms, and she knew from sliding them down that he didn’t wear anything underneath except warm skin.
She slipped her hands free and grabbed the soft throw off the end of the bed to drape over him, to keep her from doing something stupid. Like taking him in her hand.
Once he was covered she eased the pajamas down his legs. By the time she cleared his feet Marcus had his eyes closed, sweat sliding down his face.
“Marcus.” She dropped the pajama bottoms and moved to him, brushing hair off his forehead, and not liking that his skin felt hot. “I’m going to call—”
“Okay, Leah.” He didn’t sound breathless, thank God. “My body still hurts. It’s going to, for a while. I want to sleep for a little bit. Will you stay?”
“You don’t have to ask. I’ll be right here.” She used the cuff of her sweater to wipe at the sweat on his face. “I’m going to get a cold washcloth.”
“That would be good. Great, actually.”
She pulled off her sweater as she headed for the bathroom, hunting in the huge linen closet for a washcloth. After she quickly wet it down in the sink and wrung it out, she rushed back into the bedroom.
Marcus was sound asleep.
Leah sat in the chair at the small desk on the other side of the room, and took a minute to let herself fall apart. Just a minute.
When that minute was up, she wiped her eyes, took in a shaky breath, and stood, moving to the head of the bed. In sleep, the new lines on his face had eased, his constantly tensed muscles finally relaxed. She gently wiped away the sweat on his face, going back to rinse out the washcloth again, so she could leave it on his forehead. He was still a little feverish, and that worried her. If it didn’t go down, she was calling
Dr. Richards, whether he wanted her to or not.
Exhaustion smacked her—the last weeks had been brutal, with little sleep and constant worry. She looked at the king size bed, and decided she could lay on his right side and not worry about hurting him if she did something stupid, like flail in her sleep.
She slipped off her flats, hiked up her long cotton skirt, and climbed on the bed. Marcus didn’t even twitch. With a sigh, she lowered herself to the thick duvet and fell asleep almost before her head reached the pillow.
***
Pain jerked Marcus awake.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the sharp, angry burst to subside. Dr. Richards told him he’d have episodes, where his wound hurt as much as when he was first stabbed. Healing pain. He swallowed, opened his eyes to look for Leah—and found her on the edge of his bed, curled up and sound asleep.
Her skirt had ridden up while she slept, revealing her surprisingly long, shapely legs. He loved having them wrapped around him, so strong, so warm. It was going to be a long time before he felt that again.
“Damn you, Tanya.” This time, she wouldn’t walk away, no matter how many high priced lawyers she hired.
This time, she was going to face her obsession in court, and see what she had done.
The pain eased, enough for him to take a deep enough breath to relax again. He reached out his right hand, just able to touch Leah’s back. The contact comforted him, and he felt less alone as he drifted off.
She had stayed, and he made sure before she had time to think about it, that she was his for good. As soon as he could, he’d put a ring on her finger to seal the deal.
He wasn’t letting her go.
***
Leah woke to find herself pressed against Marcus, her right hand spread over his bare stomach.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart.” His voice wrapped around her, rough with sleep, but no pain that she could hear.
“How do you feel?”
“Better. Sleeping for eight hours will do that.”
“Eight—what time is it?”
“Almost four.”
“You must be starving—”
“Stay, Leah. My stomach can wait a little longer. I want to feel you, right here.” He slipped his arm under her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “I missed touching you, every damn second I was in that hospital bed.”
“I missed you,” she whispered. Tears stung her eyes, and she heard them leak into her voice. “God, Marcus—I was so scared—”
“I know, love.” He held her tighter, his lips brushing her hair. “All I could think about when I saw Tanya was keeping you safe. She’s always threatened violence, but never followed through. Now she’ll pay for it.”
“She’s still in jail.” Leah knew for a fact, questioning Graham every time he came to visit Marcus. “Graham said she shouldn’t get bail, not after what she did.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t guaranteed, Leah.” Fear shot through her. “Tanya is a millionaire, so she can afford the best defense. They may very well get her out—and we’ll deal with that if it happens. I won’t let her near us again, even if I have to hire every security firm in the city.”
Leah knew the men who had been watching his penthouse blamed themselves for the attack. But Marcus took it on himself, since he had made the decision to walk instead of taking a car.
“Fantine said she could do fittings anywhere, as long as she had enough space. I can’t believe she’d accommodate me like that—she hardly knows me.”
“She knows how I feel about you. And this scared her enough to know that Tanya is more than just a crazy stalker ex. Fantine’s incredibly protective of the people she cares about, since she lost her parents to a drunk driver.”
“Oh, God. That’s awful.” Leah made a mental note to give Fantine a long hug the next time they were together.
“We became her family when she moved in with her aunt, who was our housekeeper.”
“That sounds like something out of a novel.”
His laughter rumbled in her ear. “When you grow up with money, Leah, you have a certain lifestyle, whether you want it or not. I didn’t, which is why I left as soon as I could, and why I live alone here. Servants can really cramp a bachelor’s love life.”
She snorted. “It must have been a nightmare. Having someone to clean up after you, cook your meals, keep your laundry clean—”
He kissed her silent, his left hand tugging at her shirt until he found access, and closed over her breast.
“Damn,” he whispered. “You’re wearing a bra this time.”
“Give me a second.” She sat, unhooked it, and watched his face light up when she took it off without removing her shirt.
“I’ve seen women do that before. It’s like a magic trick.”
“I’ll never reveal the secret.”
“Come here.”
She lay down next to him, and he slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her breasts.
“I could have done that for you.”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. I like opening my own presents.” He traced circles around her already aching nipple, and just as she was ready to beg him to touch her, brushed his thumb over the peak. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “God, Leah, you are so beautiful.”
She let out a low cry and arched into his hand. He made her feel beautiful, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the way he loved her.
Her cry strangled to a moan when his mouth closed over her breast, his tongue teasing her.
“God—Marcus—you should be—careful—”
He kissed and stroked her other breast before he came up for air.
“I’m feeling no pain right now, and I want to take advantage.”
“We can’t—”
“No, but we can do a replay of our night at the charity auction.”
A thrill spiraled through her, and she slid her hand lower, until she touched the edge of the throw covering him. He groaned, digging his fingers into her back.
“You’re sure?”
“I can’t wait any longer, gorgeous. It’s been three torturous weeks.”
He groaned again and captured her lips, kissing her until they were both breathless, and his cock tented the throw. She folded it back, revealing him, and closed her fingers around his thick, hot length.
“Leah—God—” He thrust into her hand, already rock hard. She sat, giving herself better leverage, and stroked him “Shit—sorry.”
“No apologies—I know you’re losing control when you swear, and I like it. You need to hold still now, let me do the work.”
“No problem here.” She tightened her grip and slid her hand along his length again. “Damn, Leah—that’s good.”
“Keep still.” Feeling nervous and aroused at the same time, she worked him, slowly at first, and kept her free hand on his hip as reminder for him to stay still. “If you feel any pain, let me know.”
He nodded, already clutching the sheets as she tightened her grip, loving the feel of him, so hot, so thick.
“Leah—” His raw whisper froze her hand. “Okay. I want you to—touch yourself.”
She swallowed. “I don’t—”
“Watching you—shit—” He throbbed against her fingers. “It’s something I really want to see, have wanted since I first touched you—in the museum.”
“Okay.” She let go of him long enough to pull off her soaked thong and hike up her skirt, spreading her knees enough for him to see her. “Good?”
“Perfect.”
She closed her hand around him, felt him twitch against her fingers, his sharp gasp turning her on. With a deep breath, she reached down, then slid her finger over her clit. Heat shot through her, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She started stroking him again, and he kept his eyes on her as she slipped her finger inside, stroking herself at the same pace.
“Two fingers, Leah,” he whispered. She added a second finger, and gasped, thrusting them both inside, her body clenching around th
em. “God, you’re incredible.”
“Marcus—I’ve never—”
“I know, love.” He closed his eyes. “Shit—too fast, Leah. I wanted to last longer—”
His cock throbbed, so hard and hot she knew he was close. She stopped touching herself and focused on him. She stroked him, her free hand spread over his stomach to keep him from thrusting up.
“You’re perfect, Marcus,” she whispered.
Her fingers circled his head and he gasped, moisture leaking out. She couldn’t stop herself; she leaned over and licked it off, then kept going, taking him in her mouth.
“Leah—oh, fuck—”
She kept stroking him, keeping just the first inch of his cock in her mouth. She wanted more—God, she wanted all of him, thrusting deep, feeling him fill her mouth. That would wait. For now, she could taste him, get him off, and not hurt him.
His stomach muscles tensed under her hand and she knew he wanted to move, so she stroked him harder, faster, sucking and licking his head.
“Leah—shit—I’m going to come—”
She met his eyes, her mouth still on him, and his eyes widened when he understood. Then his head dropped back and he stiffened, every inch hard and pulsing as he climaxed.
She kept stroking him, swallowing every drop, loving the feel of him, the taste of him. When he finally relaxed, she eased him out of her mouth and kissed his head.
He shuddered, staring at her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“God—Leah.” His voice cracked over her name. “Come here.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, so warm, so tender she never wanted him to stop. When he finally pulled away, he cradled her cheek. “Your turn.”
“Marcus—you don’t—”
“Yes, I do. I want you to feel what I felt, and I want to watch you fall apart.”
She couldn’t resist a request like that.
Sitting up, she knelt and spread her legs. Marcus cupped her almost before she was in place and she gasped, jerking against his hand.
“So wet,” he whispered. “So hot. Have you always been so hot, Leah Frane?”
“Only for you.” She whimpered when he slid the tip of his finger inside her. “God—Marcus, don’t tease me.”
“If I had the strength, I’d tease you until you begged for mercy. But you wore me out.”