Oh fuck. What the hell had she been thinking? Traveling for an entire week, hopscotching from Madrid to London to New York to Arizona. That first night she hadn’t even unpacked yet. She was still partially in airplane mode so drinking her ass off and thinking that was going to help had been the height of lunacy.
For some insane reason, she’d blathered on and on about Aldo and their doomed engagement. Not a shred of fucking reality or truth made it out of her mouth, a fact that made her uneasy. Basically, she explained away their breakup as a simple matter of bad timing.
In her alcohol-blurred recollection, Meghan and Alex said next to nothing during her cosmopolitan rant while Parker turned every shade on the color wheel from seething blue to angry red and outraged purple. She’d said awful things that tasted bitter in her mouth—but that hadn’t stopped her from throwing down.
After Alex and Meghan had said good night, she remembered stumbling from the room only to find a scowling Parker hot on her heels. They’d gotten into a nasty row at the foot of the stairs. Angie grimaced remembering the angry exchange.
He’d scolded her like she was a kid. Said getting wasted and going on and on about her love life was disrespectful to her brother. He’d been right and since she’d been lying about all of it anyway, that only made her feel worse. But she couldn’t admit that to him. Hanging on to her pride was a struggle around Parker on a good day. Dammit. Why did talking to him have to hurt so much?
He railed at her about behaving like a snotty Euro-socialite and wondered where the real Angelina was.
She’d lost it in rather spectacular fashion, waving her arms, hopping up and down like a crazy person moving from the floor to the first two steps—up and down and up and down. What was it she’d thought before? That she was older, wiser, and would make better decisions this time? Yeah, that didn’t even last through one night. The truth was, she had no idea what she’d even said. Drunken explosions were like that.
What she did remember was Parker yelling and her wanting to cry. She didn’t want him to yell at her. Why wasn’t he happy to see her again? Why didn’t he love her? Why? Then finally, like a plug was suddenly pulled, she’d hit maximum overload and just like that, she’d slithered to the ground in a drunken blackout.
There was nothing after that. She’d simply woken up late the next morning feeling like she’d been run over by a herd of buffalo only to find that she was half-naked and safely in her bed.
How embarrassing. She’d tried to remember but the harder she tried, the more it seemed a given that he’d scooped her drunk ass up and gotten her tucked safely in her room. The clothes she’d worn were draped over a chair, her favorite ankle boots nearby. She had been too wasted to be that organized.
Finding herself wearing nothing but a bra and panty set had seriously rattled Angie’s cage. Knowing he’d undressed her, she didn’t know whether to be outraged or excited, especially when she fixated on his reaction to stripping her down to her lingerie.
And that right there was the real reason why she was plodding along on a horse out in the desert. A week ago, it hadn’t seemed possible that the situation between them could get any worse, but boy, had she been wrong about that. She’d really fucked this up and had to get her shit together.
Now if only she knew how . . .
ALEX WENT LOOKING FOR MEGHAN the first chance he got. He’d been dragged from their bed by an early call and hadn’t gotten a chance to start the day the way he preferred—with her writhing on his cock while he played with her breasts. By the time his business was concluded, she’d risen, showered, and gone to start breakfast.
Quickly following suit, he raced through his morning routine, still buttoning his shirt when he hurriedly left the master suite hoping to catch her in the kitchen.
Damn. She was gone. He’d missed her by mere minutes. She’d left a note stuck to the fridge that said Yoga with a cute drawing of a lotus flower for emphasis.
There wasn’t anything to do at that point. He knew better than to interfere when she was in the zone so he grabbed a mug of coffee and headed to the tech cave. There were a couple of things he needed to do and check with Tori about.
He gave her ninety minutes then headed across the compound to the cute southwestern style bungalow that she’d had custom designed into a yoga studio and meditation retreat.
He still hadn’t figured out what was eating away at her and then last night she went slightly batshit when some sort of problem came up with her dress. The freak-out was minor and very short-lived—Meghan wasn’t a drama junkie—but it reminded him that she was under an enormous amount of pressure. Just because he was a guy and had no fucking idea what any of this bridal shit meant didn’t make her worries any less valid or troublesome.
Coming prepared with a surprise might help so he’d had Betty working the phone and the internet for a couple of days, putting together something special for his stressed out bride-to-be.
At the bungalow, he made his way quietly onto the wraparound porch and glanced in a window before rounding for the door. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Okay, something was definitely up, and dammit, he needed to know what.
Aarrgh! She was beyond her limit. Dropping onto her knees like a puppet whose strings were cut, Meghan slumped, her whole body limp and useless. Thinking maybe pushing so hard wasn’t such a good idea, she eventually rolled flat on her back, arms and legs outstretched.
“Relax,” she whispered out loud. “Breathe.”
In and out. Slowly. Mindfully. She breathed deep. For long minutes, she tried to bring her thoughts back when they wandered, but the unseen forces battering Meghan’s mind and spirit were too strong to control. Or ignore.
She was worried twenty-four seven and not about the wedding itself. Her mother and Angie were doing all the real work. No, what was nagging at her day and night was something else. Something she was having a hard time putting into words.
Meghan lay there on the studio floor with her eyes closed and tried to calm the anxiety. She heard a noise and in the next heartbeat felt his presence. He was there in the room with her. She didn’t have to open her eyes for visual confirmation. His effect on her was palpable.
She heard the quiet snick the lock made when he shut the door followed immediately by the distinct sound of the shutters closing.
Her stomach fluttered with anticipation. He hadn’t dropped by to look at silverware patterns. Gracefully rising, she stood and admired the handsome giant moving around her studio. Alex never failed to take her breath away with his brawny masculinity. Not one of those guys with the carefully styled hair and at least some awareness of fashion, her Major was a bona fide absentminded mess. If their life were a comic book, he’d be the Nerd King and she’d be an Irish version of a very sexy Jessica Rabbit.
He was so commanding that the minute she was in his powerful presence, all the chatter in her head quieted. Just by being, he cut through all of it. This unique facet of their relationship fascinated Meghan. He led. She followed. Without question or inner murmur.
But at times, she didn’t feel like waiting and following took too much time. Sometimes, like now, she couldn’t be the obedient submissive when her passions took over.
She didn’t exactly jump on him but came damn close. All Meghan knew was she desperately needed that inner noise and turmoil to relax its grip. Losing herself in Alex’s arms became as necessary as taking her next breath.
“I missed you this morning,” she murmured. Wrapping around his big, sturdy body, she felt the heat coming off him and sighed.
He groaned. “You know I don’t like it when you leave our bed unsatisfied, my love.”
She smiled shyly and nuzzled into his neck. They had an agreement. She wasn’t to leave their bed in the morning without permission. Actually, it wasn’t so much an agreement as an edict made by her domineering lover. She’d struck gold with her hunky bad-boy Major. His day was entirely shot to hell unless he had seen to her pleasure first thi
ng. And by pleasure that meant anything she wanted. A back rub. A screaming orgasm. A foot massage. Hell, he would’ve lain in bed with her and read Green Eggs and Ham if that was what she needed from him. Ah, the shit she had to put up with, she thought, giggle-snorting against his skin.
His arms tightened as she relaxed against him. Mmmm. Rubbing on his hard, wide chest felt delicious and he smelled so damn good.
And just like that, her pussy clenched with need. No, really. Actual clenching. The sort that triggered a husky moan to rumble from her throat.
Ordinarily, she didn’t call the shots. Another one of their so-called unspoken agreements, only a bit more basic and in your face than the others. This one was all about roles. When it came to what went on in private between them, Alex was very much the sexy, caring dominant. Right now though? She was greedy.
“Kiss me, Major,” she demanded.
He didn’t hesitate at her gruff command, holding her face in his hands and taking her mouth with a hunger that thrilled Meghan.
Their tongues tangling, Alex devoured what she gave. His voracious sexuality consumed her, and in moments, she was panting with need and completely out of control.
She wanted him. Now. As in right fucking now.
Her hands were everywhere—undoing the buttons of his shirt, gripping his waist, kneading his muscular back, and massaging his scalp.
His hands settled on her ass, grabbing her forcefully and hauling her into intimate contact with the prominent bulge that told her of his desire. Her yoga pants offered little hindrance to his wicked fingers as they massaged and kneaded the globes of her butt.
Their kissing became wild and fierce. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, and right before releasing the soft flesh, he bit her. She gasped with pleasure, wanting more.
He performed a similar action on her ear. Drawing the fleshy part of her earlobe into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking lightly. She shivered with delight as her pussy pulsed with need.
And then he bit her ear and tugged on it with his teeth, growling deep and low. She moaned when he licked the skin just below her ear and nibbled, occasionally sucking and finally biting the shit out of her neck and shoulder. That was it for Meghan.
“Alex,” she moaned. About to tell him of her desperate need, he cut her off with an earthy grunt.
“Let’s go back to the house. I have a need for you naked in my bed with your hands bound while I pleasure your body.”
No! That was not what she wanted.
Okay, I should probably take that back, she thought. I did want that. But right this second? Him. Inside me. Now. Not twenty minutes from now after we’d wandered home.
Writhing against him, Meghan became desperate. Tearing at his clothes in blind haste, she struggled to get past the barrier and connect with skin.
She also tried to send them both to the floor, but he was having none of it. Worked up and frustrated, Meghan wasn’t going to have any problem begging for what she wanted.
But she hadn’t gotten a chance to plead. Grabbing her aggressively, he walked them to the nearest wall and slammed her up against it—hard. Gasping with surprise, she locked eyes with his and cowered at the grim expression coming back her way.
“We seem to be at an impasse,” he growled.
Biting her neck just below her chin, she whimpered softly.
He moved his mouth close to her ear so she felt his warm breathing on her skin. “You want me to fuck you and I want you to tell me what the fuck is wrong.”
Oh, shit. He knew her too damn well. Meghan wanted to howl with frustration. How could she tell him what she didn’t really understand?
Was that a bucket of ice-cold water she felt slither along her nerves? Well, that was what it felt like. Shit. Talk about a buzz kill.
Pushing out of Alex’s arms like doing so was no big deal, she shrugged and tried to make a half-hearted jest.
“Yes, well . . . I don’t think we have enough time for either of those options.”
Turning, she gathered up her water bottle and an Adidas jacket and made a wry face. “Anyway, I’m due at Lacey’s to . . . uh, meet with the girls.”
He didn’t even try to disguise the shocked expression on his face. She wasn’t acting like herself, she knew that, but he’d tapped into something she wasn’t ready to discuss.
“I’ll text Ria later about dinner. Let me see what everyone else is doing, okay? Cam will be back tomorrow so I’m sure Lacey isn’t thinking about cooking.”
Meghan was babbling and knew it; she didn’t know how to just run away because doing so wasn’t in her character. She wanted to reassure Alex, but she also didn’t want to get into it with him at the moment.
He was looking at her with such intensity she was sure he was using his x-ray vision or something.
Maybe he understood or maybe he was just really good at reading her vibe because he eased off and gave her the space she needed. But not without getting the final word.
“To be clear,” he drawled in that clipped tone he used when her Major was large and in charge. “We will talk, Meghan. I’m letting you run but make no mistake, you just admitted there is something wrong and I won’t be denied.”
“I know,” she choked out.
He took a step forward but Meghan knew if he touched her she’d fall to pieces. Before he could, she backed away and broke eye contact.
“Gotta go. See ya!”
Feeling like a thief running away in the night, she ran from the studio, grabbed a cart, and headed for Cameron’s cabin while seeing nothing but the shocked and angry expression on Alex’s face as she took the coward’s way out.
Watching Meghan’s hasty retreat in dismay, Alex wondered what the mother fuck had just happened.
She ran. He couldn’t believe it. Weakness and self-doubt? Christ! This was huge. She was normally a force of nature. Nothing rattled her. She liked to say that was because she’d been a teacher for so long. Never show fear in front of a room full of tweens. But after meeting her family, he knew that ball-busting thing was in the O’Brien DNA. For her to fold so quickly . . . well, shocked didn’t quite cover how he felt.
He was also pissed off. Not at her. Hell. Never at her. No, he was angry at whatever was making her unhappy. Meghan and unhappy were two things that should never occur in the same thought. He couldn’t have it. She was his everything, and as far as Alex was concerned, she should never want for anything. Never worry. Never feel unsure. He’d promised her father that he would see to her every need and he took that shit seriously. If something was wrong—which it so clearly was—then he wasn’t taking proper care of her.
Dammit. What should he have done differently? Should he have dropped her to the floor and fucked her doubts away? It was what she’d been aiming for. He wasn’t daft. He knew desperation when he saw it.
And that was why he’d tried to slow her down. Not pull back but just take a breath. Suggesting they returned to their bed would give him time to try and dial back some of the desperation. He didn’t want to be her fear habit. Something he knew well from his military days. Obliterating whatever was bothering you with alcohol, sex, food . . . whatever. Didn’t matter. What did matter was the underlying cause. He wouldn’t allow their intimate life to be corrupted by doubts and fears. They’d come too far for that.
But when he’d challenged her, she’d stopped on a dime and shut down. It was the first and only time Meghan had ever come even remotely close to saying no, and he did not like the way that made him feel.
Thankfully, it wasn’t him she was rejecting and that was the only reason why he wasn’t chasing her ass down right this second. She was saying no and running from whatever was eating her up.
He’d let her have the afternoon with the girls. They were good for Meghan. Maybe the ladies could help her find her center again. Bitches need other bitches, he laughed to himself while making a mental note to thank Tori again for turning him on to the awesome expression that seemed to come in handy for all
sorts of things.
“WHEN DOES THE HUBBY GET back from Yuma?” Tori St. John asked.
Angie liked the little whirlwind who somehow managed to bag an arrogant, over-sexed alpha. The new mommy, who packed a serious amount of wallop in her tiny frame, was, at present, an adorable mess.
Lacey marched through the room with her beautiful son slung on her hip. She dropped the stack of baby blankets that she was carrying next to Tori, who was trying to build a sleep nest for her snoozing baby.
The simple domesticity made Angie smile. These women were so cool. She felt an instant kinship with them. The wives of Family Justice. Alex’s second family.
“Mmm, Texas kicked his butt. Too much time in a suit and tie. You know Cam.” Lacey chuckled. “At least the stop in Yuma wasn’t so formal. Those Border Patrol guys and the Marines at the air station roll out the guy carpet, if you know what I mean.”
Tori gurgled with mischievous laughter. “Oh, you mean like tittie bars and rattlesnake shots off a hooker’s ass?”
Lacey’s pursed lips and mocking eye roll said that was exactly what she imagined went on.
Meghan snatched Dylan from his mom’s hip and danced away grinning. “I bet if we checked her cell phone, we’d find that she and Cam FaceTimed last night from whenever he got back to his room after dinner until they fell asleep together. That man is too besotted for tittie bars or hookers!”
“If he wants to keep all his body parts intact, he better not be drinking snake bites or whatever you said off some poor woman’s butt.”
“Rattlesnake shots, darlin’,” Tori jested. “And only you, honey, would call a hooker some poor woman!”
“Shut up, Victoria,” Lacey snapped. “I understand how someone ends up in that position. That’s all I meant.”
After tucking a dozen blankets around her sleeping baby so he couldn’t move nestled in the soft cocoon on his back, Tori jumped up and bear hugged her sister-in-law.
Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 8