Fueling His Hunger

by Sparrow Beckett

  After Luke had proposed, appallingly, in marker on her ass, his cousins had asked her if they could do the honor of walking her down the aisle. She wished her dad was there, but Atlas and Fox were like family now, and aside from her dad, there was no one better.

  Ophelia took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  Fox signaled toward the beach and bagpipes started to play. The sound echoed across the lake, dragging everyone’s attention. It was so beautiful her eyes started to well up.

  “Don’t cry,” Priya said, clucking her tongue. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

  “Come on.” Chloe took her friend’s hand and dragged her toward the beach. Their friends and family formed two lines to make an aisle leading to Luke and the officiant.

  Fox took one arm and Atlas took her other.

  She walked, on shaky legs, to her future.

  Luke looked up and their gazes locked. His jaw dropped for a moment before he recovered his composure. His lips curved into a wide grin.

  They joined hands at the edge of the water and happy tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t find it in her to care about makeup. She was overwhelmed with joy.

  Luke wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “Sorry, I’m a mess,” she whispered, half chuckling, before the ceremony had a chance to begin.

  “Don’t apologize.” He gazed down at her as though she were his entire world. “You’re perfect.”

  The elderly officiant, who’d been a joker through the whole rehearsal the night before, cleared his throat and smiled. “No kissing until we get through the rest of this, you two.”

  “Of course not,” Luke murmured. “What kind of man do you take me for?”

  Ophelia swallowed a laugh, trying not to feel like a fraud standing there with a white dress covering the teeth marks Luke had left on her ass. He’d snuck into her room that morning and accosted her in the shower, but had supposedly kept his eyes closed so he didn’t see her before the wedding. She was pretty sure he’d peeked, the bastard.

  The officiant read through their vows for them as they silently flirted, and then finally it was Luke’s turn to say “I do.” Rather than answer, he grabbed her and kissed her, long and deep, making Ophelia’s knees wobble.

  “Forever,” he whispered in her ear as their guests laughed. “I do,” he said, in a voice much louder and more enthusiastic than strictly necessary.

  The officiant shook his head at Luke in mock exasperation.

  Ophelia kept trying to fight down nervous laughter as the ceremony continued and she waited for her turn. When the time came, she paused and grinned at Luke mischievously. She let her answer wait just long enough to let him know she was messing with him, so she could get the “you’re in trouble, young lady” eyebrow.

  “I do!” she finally said, blushing hard.

  Her husband’s dark eyes were full of affection and the sexiest of threats.

  She was so in for it later tonight.

  With any luck, she’d be in for it every night from this man for the rest of their lives.

  Keep reading for a preview of

  PUSHING HER LIMITS

  Coming soon from InterMix

  From the other side of the street, the little shop looked pristine and unassuming. Mila watched the door as she chugged the rest of the black coffee in her to-go cup—a disturbing addiction her father had warned her about. Before graduating from the academy, she’d been a paragon of health and fitness. Now, five years later, that naïve, idealistic rookie was a distant memory replaced with a jaded, caffeine-addicted, bitch. And at just twenty-seven, she’d found her first silver hair that morning.

  She set her coffee down in the cup holder and pushed back her hair. The jeans and T-shirt felt unfamiliar, but were necessary to keep her cover. She was far more at home in business attire, which felt like part of her shield.

  Sighing, she opened the door and climbed out of the car, taking her messenger bag with her. Her badge and gun were stashed in her purse. Today she wasn’t Detective Palmer. She was Mila Tanner—and completely clueless about technology.

  A faint chime sounded when she opened the shop door, but a scrawny kid already sat behind the counter. Between the baseball cap pulled low over his face and the way he was hunched over his phone, she couldn’t get a good look at him. His shirt had the store logo on it, but she doubted he was the owner.

  Like most computer repair shops she’d seen, the place was cluttered but tidy, and held an assortment of cords, gadgets, and accessories. The sign behind the counter said she was in the right place, but there was no way this kid was Atlas Larson, who was supposedly about six foot four and two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle.

  When she cleared her throat, the kid startled then looked up at her.

  “Oh. Hi.” Sheepishly, he tucked his phone into his pocket and stood up from the stool he’d been perched on. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  His baby face matched the awkwardness of his body. A teenager.

  “What’s up?” He smiled then stopped himself and grimaced. “Wait. Let me try that again.” His shoulders straightened and he took a more professional tone, “Welcome to Larson Computer Solutions. I’m Austin. How can I help you?”

  She held up her messenger bag. “My laptop froze.”

  “Did you try turning it off and on again?”

  With a glare, she gritted through clenched teeth, “Yes.”

  “Did you try plugging it in?”

  “Is there a manager I could talk to?”

  Austin unfolded himself from the stool then patted the counter. “I’ll take a look. It’s probably something easy to fix.”

  The bored condescension was already getting on her nerves. She felt like spewing a few tech words just to throw him off balance, but she resisted. She had to stick to the part.

  “Okay,” she managed to say then withdrew the computer from the bag and placed it on the counter. “It’s fully charged. It starts up fine but then the screen either goes blank suddenly or it freezes in the middle of what it’s doing.”

  “Probably got a virus.”

  “I have antivirus software.” It was an old laptop that had broken down years ago and had been dropped several times. Hopefully, it’d stump the kid long enough for her to meet Larson. It’d be a pretty big waste of her afternoon if the kid managed to fix it in only a few minutes.

  He opened the laptop and pressed the power button. “Antivirus doesn’t protect from everything. I’ll run some diagnostics and see what’s going on.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Depends.” He shrugged. “Could be a half hour, could be a few days. You can leave your number and I’ll—”

  “I’ll wait,” she blurted.

  His brows rose.

  “Like you said, it might be an easy fix.”

  A door behind the desk opened, and a large figure filled the entire doorway. She craned her neck to see his face.

  Her initial impression was height and muscle and danger. His expression was friendly, but it was hard to tell if it stayed that way long. This had to be Atlas Larson and he was a huge motherfucker. Sure, she’d read the brief description they had on file, but none of that prepared her for a man who was built like he beat the shit out of people for a living, and dragged women off by the hair as a hobby. This bastard had criminal written all over him. It wasn’t proof of course, but it was a good start.

  Mila wasn’t intimidated by much, but this guy made her want to reach for her gun, just to reassure herself it was there. Years of keeping pace with the guys in the academy had hardened her, but it took a few seconds to compose herself. There were no reports saying these guys were violent, but even though she was good at hand to hand, she didn’t think she’d get far with this Neanderthal.

  “What have I told you about the baseb
all cap?” he asked Austin as he walked behind the counter. Before the kid could move, Larson had flicked the hat off his head.

  Austin scrambled to catch it, then tossed it under the counter. “Sorry.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He arched a brow at his employee, but his mouth quirked at the corner, with fond familiarity. Family maybe? “Is Austin figuring things out for you?”

  “Yeah,” Mila said, trying to sound more casual than she felt. Then again, he had to be used to women getting flustered around him. “It’s an old laptop, so I don’t know if he’ll be able to save it for me.”

  Atlas looked over the kid’s shoulder, and then at Mila. “If we can’t fix it, we can probably retrieve the information off of it, Ms. . . . ?”

  “Oh, uh. Mila. It’s Mila Tanner.” She could feel her cheeks heating and she wished she could plant a fist in what looked to be his very hard torso. Okay, so her feeling flustered wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to blame him.

  “Mila,” he repeated. A lazy grin spread across his face, and it made her shiver. A man this built shouldn’t be hot too. By all rights he should have looked like someone had taken a shovel repeatedly to his face. Instead he was all stubborn jaw, strong cheekbones, and hard blue eyes. And dammit, he was blond.

  The man needed to be licked. A lot. But not by her. She was a cop, and not at all attracted to possible criminals.

  But wow . . . yeah.

  He was looking at her the way men sometimes did if they were interested. She braced herself for the standard lame pickup lines, but he only pulled the laptop closer and waved Austin away. “I’ll do this. You go clean the break room.”

  Austin shrugged and wandered into the back, his phone in his hand before he’d gone two steps. The break room was probably going to have to clean itself.

  Atlas dragged the stool closer and sat, then motioned for Mila to take the stool on the other side of the counter, which she did. The longer she could keep the man talking, the more she could learn about him.

  “Like I was saying, I can get the information off of it, but I’m not sure I can get it running reliably again.” His lips pressed together and Mila did her best to stop checking him out. “It might be time for a new laptop.”

  “That’s going to have to wait a few months.” She grimaced. “So . . . you must do this all the time, right?”

  “Yes, we get several jobs like this a day. Why?”

  “Do you have, like, a confidentiality clause?” She forced herself to look away, trying to seem embarrassed, but she still knew it when he leaned his muscular forearm on the counter between them. When she glanced back up at him the corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Why? Forget to clear your browser history?”

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with watching porn,” she teased, smiling. Was she flirting or just staying the part? Maybe a little of both.

  He arched a brow, and the look made her insides shivery. “No. You just have watch what sites you use, or your computer will suffer the consequences.”

  Consequences? The way he said the word gave her a brief flash of being pulled down over his thigh and his hand coming down on her ass.

  It was official. She absolutely needed to get laid as soon as possible. Leering at the creeps she investigated was ridiculous.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, and he cleared his throat. “I’m Atlas Larson, by the way.”

  “Larson? Are you related to the owner?”

  “Yeah, he’s a bit of an asshole, but family’s family.” The gleam of amusement in his eyes made her wonder what he was thinking.

  “You’re the owner.”

  “Yes,” he admitted, closing her laptop. “But I stand by what I said.”

  She found herself smiling at him and wondered if he could tell she was fantasizing about him shoving her down on the counter and . . .

  “Um . . . how long have you been at this location?” she asked, trying to banish the pornographic images from her mind.

  “We just opened a storefront about six months ago. Before that we were mainly doing contracts for businesses, and some work from home, but it’s easier to advertise if you have somewhere to hang a sign.”

  She nodded, wondering how far to push the conversation on the first contact. If she seemed too interested in his business it would look suspicious.

  “We?” She asked. “Is that the royal ‘we’, or is that married ‘we’?”

  Shit. The idea had been to steer the conversation away from an interrogation about his business, but she hadn’t meant to sound like she was interested. Stupid. This guy had her all flustered and he hadn’t even done anything. Hell, she’d gone toe to toe with some of the biggest badasses in town, and now she was completely botching this because the guy happened to be easy to look at?

  His eyes narrowed. “It’s the royal ‘we’ but only if you’re referring to my cousin and my brother who are royal pains in the ass. As for a wife, I doubt any woman would tolerate me that long.”

  “No?” She’d been expecting bravado, not self-effacement. The latter was far more intriguing coming from a guy who was built and hot, and obviously intelligent if he fixed computers for a living. There was no way this guy could be a car thief. The other ones she’d met were ballsy fuckers, not nice guys. Although, maybe the nice guy thing was an act. Maybe her libido wanted it to be an act. If he was a car thief he was off limits, but if the tip had been bogus and he was just a hot, gainfully employed man who may or may not know how to use all of those muscles he owned . . .

  Bad Mila. Get your mind out of his pants.

  For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but then he just smiled enigmatically. “It’ll be ready Sunday.” He pushed to his feet and she got the distinct impression she’d been dismissed.

  Dammit. Had she done something to tip him off?

  Embarrassed, she rose, trying to gather her composure. She was going to have a serious talk with herself as soon as she got to the safety of her car.

  “Thanks.”

  She made it out to the car, not sure what the hell had just happened. When she went to pick up her ancient laptop and the useless files on it on Sunday, she had to make sure her head was in the game. With effort she managed not to look through the store’s front window to catch a last look at him.

  Sunday.

  Maybe she’d softened him up for more conversation, but he wasn’t overly chatty. He hadn’t really told her more than she could have learned online. Talk about being off her game.

  If she were lucky, she’d get laid after the wedding on Saturday. With those needs satisfied, maybe she could keep her mind on her work at their next encounter.

  Two writers in two countries transform into the super writing duo, Sparrow Beckett, each night after wrangling their housefuls of children and pets. They trade the cape and colorful tights for tattoos and cups of coffee then set out to create a world where readers fall in love with heroes and the women who willingly go to their knees for them. Their books are the products of two kinky minds who don’t take themselves too seriously. They are the authors of the Masters Unleashed series (Playing Hard to Master, Finding Master Right, and To Have and to Master) and the Masters of Adrenaline series (Stealing His Thunder, Fueling His Hunger, Pushing Her Limits). They also write solo books under the names Sorcha Black and Justice Serai.

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