by Maya Banks
Chapter 22
Serena smiled at Sam when he opened the back door for her. She leaned up and kissed the startled man on the cheek and all but flew to the front door.
She burst into the living room expecting to find Damon sitting in front of the fire with his book and a glass of wine, but to her disappointment the room was empty. She quickly weighed her options. He could be in his office, but if that was the case she didn't want to interrupt work with what she hoped to be a special moment. Or he could be up in the bedroom, which offered a whole host of possibilities.
She turned eagerly, only to see Sam walk into the living room.
"Miss James, you left the car so quickly I didn't have time to inform you that Mr. Roche is on the terrace. He wished you to join him when you returned."
"Thank you, Sam," she said as she whirled and hurried toward the glass doors.
Her heart was beating like a freight train. She was breathless, scared, but happy. So very happy.
She came to a halt on the stone patio when she saw Damon sitting at the circular glass table several feet away. In her haste, she'd forgotten to shed her shoes, and she kicked them off now, enjoying the warm concrete under her feet.
He was staring into the gardens, a glass of wine held idly in his hand. He looked contented, a man sure of his place in the world. And now, finally, she knew her place in the world. His world. It didn't matter where, as long as he was in it.
A ridiculous knot of nervous energy rolled in her stomach, squeezing until her breaths came out in little painful squeaks. Then he looked up and saw her.
She swallowed the huge lump in her throat when she saw his eyes soften with love. He had the most delicious brown eyes and they went positively liquid when he looked at her. She wanted to lock this moment away in time. If only she could stand here watching him look at her that way for the rest of her life, she would be happy.
"Serena mine," he murmured, holding his hand out to her.
She rushed forward, taking his hand and dropping to her knees beside his chair. She rubbed her face over his leg, closing her eyes as his fingers tangled in her hair.
"No, love, you're going to hurt your knees. The stone is too hard and rough for you out here."
She shook her head. Knees? What knees? All she could feel was his love, wrapping securely around her, holding her when she couldn't hold herself.
"Come here," he said quietly, pulling her into his lap.
When she was settled against his chest, he stroked her long hair from her face with gentle fingers.
"What's wrong, Serena?"
She expelled her breath in a quivering rush and smiled. "I love you. Do you know that, Damon? Do you know how much?"
He looked stunned by her announcement. His pupils flared, and his fingers stilled in her hair.
"I know. I hope I know." He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she could feel him trembling against her. "I love you too, Serena mine. So damn much, I ache."
She pulled away and caught his hand, pulling it from her hair to cradle it between her palms. For a moment she studied their entwined hands thinking of all the times she was bound to him, for him, only this time it was her doing the binding. She was in control.
When she looked back up at him, he was studying her with those deep brown eyes. Dropping his hand, she leaned forward, putting her palms against his face.
"Will you marry me, Damon? Will you be my husband and my lover for the rest of our lives?"
His eyes widened. First shock and then joy flooded them so warm and vibrant that tears clogged her throat, burning and squeezing. If she'd had any reservations, any concerns, they vanished as she saw his relief. Had he been so worried she wouldn't marry him?
"Yes," he said solemnly. "I'll marry you, Serena mine. Anytime, anywhere. I don't care as long as you'll be mine."
She brought her lips to his, kissing him hungrily. Then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him fiercely, content to just hold on and feel his strength, and his love.
"I don't want to wait," she whispered against his neck.
"Then we won't wait," he said simply.
"I want to be yours."
"You're already mine, Serena. No ceremony or lack thereof will ever change that. You'll always, always be mine."
She smiled and squeezed him a little tighter. "We need to call your mom. And mine. She and Dad will want to fuss." She pulled away and sat up to look him in the face. "I don't want a fuss but I don't want to disappoint my mom either. Maybe we could compromise and keep it small, just friends and immediate family."
He cupped her cheek in his palm and smiled lovingly at her. "Do you know how happy you've just made me? Are you sure, Serena? You seemed to have doubts before. I want you to be sure this is what you want. I won't push you for more. You know that."
"I do know. Oh, Damon, I love you so much."
"It figures you would catch me so unprepared," he said ruefully. "The ring I've carried everywhere with me over the last weeks is sitting upstairs in the drawer of my dresser."
"We can get it later. All that matters right now is you and me." She squirmed with excitement on his lap. "I'm getting married. Holy hell, that's scary!"
He administered a light smack to her hip. "Marrying me should not be in the least bit scary. You should be swooning with joy."
She grinned. "Okay, I'll stand up and swoon but if you don't catch me, I'm going to kick your ass."
"I'd rather carry you upstairs, tie you to my bed and make love to you all afternoon long. Then maybe I'll let you up so we can call our families."
"And they say romance is dead," she murmured as she closed her mouth over his.
Somewhere between the melancholy and the ass kicking, Julie's self-disgust overpowered everything else. Which was good, because there was only so much wallowing she could take.
Yeah, Damon and Serena hit her hard, but they were Damon and Serena. Julie was . . . well, she was Julie. Looking at someone else's relationship for the answers was like reading about a romance novel hero and expecting to find a carbon copy in real life.
Smart women didn't do either. And above all, she was a smart woman.
After boiling in a bathtub for the better part of the afternoon, she applied fourteen different types of girly garb, painted her toenails, did all the waxing she could reach and went digging through her freezer for some Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream.
She needed a plan. She wasn't going to, in the words of Serena, allow the kicked puppy to take over. No, that wasn't her style. What would the real Julie do when confronted with Nathan's one-upsmanship?
She smiled around a spoonful of ice cream. The real Julie wouldn't get mad. She'd get even. And that posed all sorts of delectable possibilities.
Luring him in for another massage would never work. He'd see that one coming a mile away. Besides, she was nothing if not original. No, she wanted something bold. Something he'd never see coming in a million years. Something that gave her the upper hand.
Easier said than accomplished, however.
She sighed a little mournfully as she licked the sweetness from the spoon. The only thing that irked her about the entire experience—now that she knew who her mystery men were—was that she hadn't been able to look at Nathan and Micah, especially Nathan, while they were fucking her mindless.
A woman should never be blindfolded when making love to men who looked that good. That was her own stupidity, but then again, if she hadn't made that stipulation, Nathan wouldn't have seized his opportunity.
But still. She groaned as her body went all fiery again just thinking about Nathan's naked body lying over hers, his hips flexing, muscles bulging while he thrust. Even ice cream wasn't going to help this burn.
Micah was probably nice to look at too in the buff, but with Nathan in the room, she doubted she would have even seen Micah. Which was too bad, really. When a woman stopped noticing a good-looking man, she was either in love or struck blind. She was going with the latter, since lust didn't equal love
in her world.
She let the spoon rest on her tongue as she stared dreamily into the distance. Nathan Tucker in her bed. Powerless. Hers to do with whatever the hell she wanted. Nathan Tucker tied to her bed. Oh hell yeah. Her girly parts were singing at the idea.
What she could do to a man who could do nothing but lie there and take it. Oh, she'd treat him very, very well. He'd enjoy his captivity before she turned him back into the wild. Mreowl Her chill bumps had chill bumps as she imagined all she could get away with if she had him completely at her mercy.
It would be the perfect payback. A man like him would chafe at being subdued by a little ole woman like her. He'd huff and snarl but in the end she'd bring him gently to heel. He'd be purring like a well-trained kitten by the time she finished pleasuring him.
She frowned as she dug back into the ice cream. As fantasies went, this one was stellar. But the execution. Now there was the deal breaker. How the hell was she going to get Nathan Tucker in her bed, naked and bound?
She could ask Faith for handcuffs—the good police-issue ones, because she didn't want the kind he could break out of in two seconds flat. Faith was a kinky bitch, and Gray was an ex-cop. They had to have a few lying around, didn't they? It still didn't answer the problem of how to get Nathan into them, however.
Well, just because she didn't have an immediate answer didn't mean she was going to give up. Some things were just too good to let go of. Nathan naked and at her mercy was one of them.
She polished off the rest of her ice cream and sat back with a satisfied yawn. After last night she had that yummy kind of lethargy that spoke of great sex and multiple orgasms. Going back to bed wasn't a bad idea. She had a full day of client appointments to start off her week. She'd worry about how to take down Nathan tomorrow. Today she was going to stare at the back of her eyelids and dream of all she'd do when she did run him to ground.
Chapter 23
“Where the hell is Micah?" Nathan asked.
Pop looked up from the scattered paperwork on Faith's desk while Connor stood to the side staring over Pop's shoulder as they looked for an invoice.
"I forgot this was his time off," Pop muttered.
"You gave him time off when we're short Faith and Gray?" Nathan asked in disbelief.
"Well, it wouldn't be my first choice, but the only time he ever asks for is every year on precisely the same days. He has a standing request in. Never changes them. Never calls in any other time, so I have a hard time telling him no."
Nathan frowned. Come to think of it, Micah did take off every single year on the same days. Even stranger, he disappeared and no one knew where he went or heard from him until he came back to work.
"Faith and Gray will be home tomorrow," Connor offered. "At least we'll have decent coffee again."
Pop grunted, his lips curled into a surly line. None of them was worth a damn without their supply of coffee. Problem was, no one knew what kind Faith used. It was her highly guarded secret. She used it as a weapon in case they ever got any crazy ideas about firing her. As if.
"So how'd your date with Julie go, anyway?" Connor asked. "Haven't had a chance to ask you since you two went out."
Nathan blinked. They didn't normally talk about their damn personal lives. But he saw the gleam in Connor's eyes and scowled.
"It went fine."
"Yeah? She stick around long enough for you to call it an actual date?"
"You're asking for it, Malone."
"Leave the boy alone," Pop said with a wave of his hand. "We've got enough to do without you two bickering like a bunch of children."
Connor sent him a sideways look and grinned slyly. "I was thinking, if you two aren't going out regularly, I might ask her out. I've only met her a couple of times but she's seriously hot."
Nathan rocketed to his feet. "Over my dead body!"
Pop gave him a disgusted look. "Sit down, son. You're way too damn easy."
Connor chuckled. "Who says I wasn't serious?"
"That girl would eat you alive," Pop said, not looking up from his search. "Look at what she's done to Nathan. You like your conquests to be easy, and I'd say Julie's anything but easy."
Nathan snickered. "You like 'em easy, eh, Connor? There's a word for that, you know."
"Fuck you. I just like girls who don't rank up there with crazy ex-girlfriend status."
"You've had your share of crazy exes," Pop muttered.
"Oh?" Nathan hooted. "Do share, Pop."
"Don't we have work to do?" Connor asked.
Pop grinned and looked over the paper he was holding. "I'll never forget the one girl who waited for him naked in bed. He was coming home on leave, and he'd broken things off with her before he shipped out last. Only problem was, it was my bed she took position in. I liked to have never got her out of there. Connor hid in his bedroom like a damn coward."
Nathan laughed until his sides hurt while Connor glared holes in his dad.
"There was also the one who painted herself in camo colors and decided that was all the clothing she needed."
"Pop, enough already."
Connor sounded a little desperate, which made Nathan all the more determined to hear Pop out.
Ignoring Connor's frantic attempts to hush him, Pop laid the stack of papers to the side and leaned back in his chair, his teeth flashing in a smile.
"The girl had brass, I have to hand it to her. Connor and I were at the local pizza place having dinner—with Connor's new girlfriend, I might add—when Miss Camo-in-All-the-Right-Places waltzes up to Connor and plops herself onto his lap."
"Yeah, and my new girlfriend dumped me over that," Connor grumbled. "I've sworn off psycho women."
"Julie's not psycho," Nathan growled.
Connor grinned. "I never said she was. I want to ask her out, remember?"
"Quit yanking his chain," Pop said. "Wouldn't hurt you to ask someone out, though. I'm not getting any younger. I'd like grandchildren before I'm too old to see them."
"We could always set him up," Nathan snickered. "I'm sure Micah knows someone."
"I don't need your goddamn help finding a woman. The day I do is the day they put my ass in a pine box."
Nathan held up his hands. "Touchy today."
"It's called not getting any," Pop said with a perfectly straight face.
The laughter Nathan had been trying to hold back poured out. Connor rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.
"When you two are through dissecting my love life, I'll be out in the truck waiting. Someone has to do the goddamn work around here."
Connor stalked off while Nathan was still laughing. Connor could give with the best, but he damn sure couldn't take it.
Still chuckling, Pop hauled himself up and grabbed his keys. "Well, come on. Let's go join my grumpy-ass son so we can get this job done. He's right about one thing. Someone has to work around here since it seems everyone's taking off at the same time."
Nathan walked out ahead of Pop and slid into the SUV with Connor. A few minutes later, Pop ambled over to Connor's side and motioned for him to roll down the window.
"You two go on ahead. I'll take my truck. I want to check on a system I just got a call about. Owner says the alarm keeps going off."
"Sure you don't want us to come along and help diagnose the problem?" Connor asked.
Pop grunted. "I may not be the computer guru in the family, but I'm laying odds it's a damn stray cat or a squirrel that's the culprit. If I have any trouble, I'll holler at you boys."
Connor nodded and backed out of the parking lot.
"Want something to eat before we go?" Connor asked.
Nathan shrugged. He wasn't really that hungry, but Connor and food made a date at least every two hours. Nathan was convinced the guy had tapeworms. There was no other explanation for how he never worked out with the other guys, and yet he was lean and muscled despite the fact he ate half an elephant's weight on a daily basis.
They hit the drive-through of their favorite loca
l fast food joint, and Nathan listened while Connor ordered an obscene amount of food. Nathan got a coffee, thinking it couldn't be worse than Connor's earlier attempt. It wasn't much better, but it was liquid caffeine.
"Julie's salon isn't far from here, is it?" Connor asked casually.
"No," Nathan said tightly.
"Shopping center one block over, huh?"
Nathan turned to look at Connor, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Cut the crap, Connor. Unless you're wanting to schedule a hair appointment, why the hell do you care where Julie's salon is?"
"Or a massage," Connor said innocently. "I guess I could always get my ear pierced like you and pussy boy Hudson."
"Pussy boy Hudson would kick your ass and you know it," Nathan said with a grin.
"Nah, he's old and rusty."
Nathan snorted. "And you aren't? You've gotten soft since getting out."
"Julie's different," Connor said, pulling the conversation back to her again. It was starting to annoy the shit out of Nathan.
"What do you mean, different?"
Connor shrugged. "You know what I mean. She's .. . rounder, a little on the plump side. You usually date the tall, lean blonde types."
Nathan stared at him agape. Plump? Was he trying to insinuate that Julie was fat?
Connor glanced over at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Why do you look so appalled, man?"
"What the hell are you trying to say?"
"Just that she's not your usual type. She's got hips, breasts."
"She's fucking perfect," Nathan growled. "Ain't a goddamn thing wrong with her." Hips and breasts. Was Connor sitting there seriously criticizing Julie's attributes? If he wasn't driving, Nathan would kick his ass on the spot.
"I wasn't badmouthing her, dude. Just citing the differences."
"How about you don't even fucking look at her, and you won't have to worry about her differences."
Connor chuckled and held up one hand in surrender.
"Hey, speak of the devil. Isn't that her?"
Nathan blinked at the abrupt change in topic but looked in the direction of Connor's attention. Sure enough, Julie's sporty convertible darted into traffic from the on-ramp and surged ahead three cars.