The Billionaire’s Ward: McClellan Billionaires Book Three

by North, Leslie

  But now that she'd found it, what was next? She should have felt relieved that her search was over.

  Instead, she felt... scared.

  8

  The morning sky was still tinged with the pink of dawn, but Annabelle had already finished her breakfast. “Can we get out of here?” she begged, as she sent her cereal bowl clattering into the sink. “It's so loud.”

  “You're pretty loud too, you know,” Maggie laughed. But then the whole house shook with the din of hammering, and she clapped her hands to her ears. “Yes, good idea, go get your shoes.”

  Annabelle hurried away. Maggie gulped down the last of her green tea and rinsed her mug before pouring another. Sleeping through the din of renovations was impossible. She'd woken up early, but that didn't mean she felt awake yet. Hopefully, she could get Annabelle involved in some kind of solitary game that didn't require much mental effort on her part. Maybe something involving lying down.

  “Have you ever made drip castles?” she asked Annabelle once she'd returned. When her charge shook her head, she grinned. “You're going to love this.”

  She grabbed a blanket, and they headed down to the beach. The water was calm and glassy, giving off flashes of gold as it reflected the slanted sun. The air still held a trace of the night's chill, but Maggie could tell it was going to be the hottest day yet. Hot enough for a swim for sure.

  “Here's what you do,” she instructed Annabelle, showing her how to take small fistfuls of watery sand at the surf line. “Let it drip through your fingers like that. See how the drips pile up on top of each other? The more you drip in one place the taller it gets. You can make really cool castles like this, if you're patient.”

  “Let me try!” Annabelle grabbed a fistful of sand and carefully emulated Maggie's slow process. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she worked. Maggie sat back on her heels, expressing encouragement and excitement as the castle grew in size. Then she leaned back on the blanket and sipped her cooling tea.

  A light breeze played with her hair, lifting it from her neck. Almost like Vane's fingers had last night. Annabelle wasn't paying any attention to her, but Maggie hid her flush behind her mug anyway.

  What was it about last night that had her so unsettled? She shifted on the blanket and then shifted again.

  “Watch out, Miss Stewart! Don't kick my castle!”

  “Oh, sorry, honey!” Maggie tucked her feet back under her and flushed even hotter. She was squirming like a little child just thinking about Vane, but it wasn't just pleasure.

  She wanted to run. She wanted to jump out of her skin. She wanted to drop her mug on the sand and sprint away from this feeling of... what was it?

  Contentment?

  “Complacency,” her mother would have sniffed as she packed their bags and threw them into their beat-up old hatchback as Maggie sobbed. “That's what's wrong with this world—everyone is content to settle for good enough. But not you and me, baby girl. There's always someplace new to explore, always another adventure to begin. We don't let ourselves get tied down. We don't settle and grow moss. We're rolling stones, baby girl. We're explorers.”

  She'd keep up this monologue until they were all packed up. She'd rub Maggie's shoulders and brush the hair back from her tear-streaked face before shutting the car door. “Freedom!” she'd always yell just before turning on the engine and gunning it down the road. And Maggie would press her lips together to keep from sobbing harder as she watched another home recede from view. “Come on, baby girl, where's your sense of adventure?” her mother would demand.

  And Maggie would twist around in her seat and give her mother the smile she wanted. “Yay,” she would say. “I can't wait to see what happens next.”

  She said it so many times, she started to believe herself.

  What happens next? She stared at the glinting water. You can't... stay here. A slow-rising panic gripped her throat at the very idea.

  She gulped down the last of her tea and scrambled to her feet. “Can I help, honey?” she asked Annabelle, a bit more frantically than she meant to. But she needed to distract herself from the terrifying vision that had just popped in her head.

  Herself. Completely overgrown with moss.

  “It needs a wall there,” Annabelle instructed. Maggie nodded and got to work, pushing all other thoughts from her mind. She allowed herself to get so wrapped up in her construction project that she didn't even notice that Annabelle had stopped until the little girl laughed. “Ha! Uncle Vane, you look funny.”

  Maggie jerked back and nearly tumbled into the water. “You snuck up on us!” she blurted indignantly, then looked up at him. “You're right, Annabelle, he does look funny.”

  Vane laughed and brushed his hands through his hair, causing a shower of white dust. “Plaster,” he explained. “I probably look like a snowman.”

  “A really weird one,” Annabelle observed.

  “Thank you.” He stuck out his tongue at his ward, who giggled. “I came right out here to find you as soon as we uncovered it.” His eyes glinted, and Maggie was once again struck by how unfairly handsome he was. Even coated in plaster, he still looked amazing. Maybe even more amazing. Like a walking piece of sculpture. “You guys have to see this.”

  “What is it?” Annabelle jumped up eagerly.

  “A surprise for my favorite girl.” He winked at Maggie. “Girls.”

  Her cheeks heated. She wanted to demur. Putting distance between herself and him was the only way she was going to get through these next few weeks without going completely out of her mind. But his smile was so eager and he looked so delighted when Annabelle peppered him with questions, that her “no" died on her lips before she could say it aloud.

  With a sigh, she found herself following him back up to the house.

  “It's upstairs,” he said. The crew had broken for an early lunch, and the house rang with sudden, echoing silence. Maggie could even hear her heart thudding in her ears and wondered if Vane could hear it too. Did he know he was the reason it was racing?

  He led them to a room at the end of the second-floor hallway. It was packed high with boxes from the attic along one wall, but the other wall had been torn out down to the studs, exposing an old brick chimney and a space just to the right of it. “Check it out.” He gestured for Annabelle to go into the space first.

  She bent her head under a beam. “It's a secret room!” she gasped.

  “What? Really?” Maggie had to bend almost double, but she managed to squeeze through the tiny entrance. She straightened up and gasped.

  It was a small nook, small enough that Annabelle could touch both walls if she stretched out her hands. One wall was the brick of the old chimney, and the other sloped down as it followed the roofline, but the other two were decorated in perfectly preserved floral wallpaper in the distinctly seventies hues of mustard and avocado green.

  “It's like a time capsule!” Maggie marveled as she turned in a small circle. “Is that macramé? This is back in style now.” She touched the bohemian tangle that still hung from the rafters. “What is this place?”

  “I think Annabelle called it. It's a secret room. They must have walled it off during the last renovation,” Vane explained. He ducked under the beam and straightened up.

  Maggie took an instinctive step back. “Ow!” Annabelle complained as she trod on her foot. “There's not enough room for you guys—you're too big!”

  Maggie looked up. “She's right,” she tried to laugh. “Your hair is touching the ceiling.” But her breath was coming faster now. With Vane in the room, she suddenly felt like she couldn't get enough air. Every breath filled her lungs with his scent, the salty tang of the sea air mixed with something unidentifiable but so quintessentially male that it made her limbs go to jelly. She pressed her hand against the wall in a desperate bid to keep from swooning. “I don't think we can all fit in here.”

  “Are you okay?” He moved his hand sympathetically, brushing the small of her back. Her skin tingled unde
r his touch, making her breath come even faster. “Are you claustrophobic?”

  “Not usually.”

  “It's okay. Here.” He held out his hand.

  He kept his hand on her back as he helped her climb back out of the space. Maggie knew it was meant to feel reassuring, but it only added to her dizziness. When she straightened up, the corners of her vision went dim and she stumbled.

  Vane caught her up. She sagged against him. He felt as solid and unmovable as an oak tree, and she braced her hands on his elbows until the dizzy spell passed. She blinked away the spots that swam in her eyes and looked up.

  “You okay?” he said, gazing down at her in concern.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed, and then smiled.

  “You sure?”

  “Don't I look okay?” She exhaled.

  He tightened his grip on her. “Here in my arms? Yeah, you look... perfect.” He kissed her, sweetly at first, and then with a desperate ferocity.

  “Uncle Vane! Can I put my bed in here?” Annabelle shouted from the other side of the wall, completely oblivious.

  Vane chuckled, but he didn't let Maggie go. She laughed and let her head fall against his chest. “I don't think it'll fit, little lady. But the room can be yours. We'll put in a real door, and you can decorate it however you want.”

  “Can I take the ugly flowers down?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Cool! Hey, Miss Stewart! Can you help me paint?”

  Vane looked down at Maggie with such tenderness that she felt dizzy all over again. “As soon as we put the door in so Miss Stewart can feel comfortable, okay?”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “For what?” he said with a wink. “I want you to feel at home here, too.” He sobered. “I really hope you do.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  How could she explain to him that that was the problem?

  * * *

  “I miss bedtimes,” Vane had told her with a sweet smile. “I got this. You take the night off.”

  Maggie stood at the edge of the water. Behind her, the full moon hung low in the sky, giving the seafoam that whirled around her toes a silvery glow. With every gentle, lapping wave, her toes sank deeper into the sand. She'd left Annabelle bouncing at the edge of her bed, lecturing her amused and slightly bewildered-looking guardian on all her ideas for the renovation of her secret room, which she had quickly dubbed Narnia. Now she inhaled the salty tang of the ocean and once again felt that she'd found something precious.

  She dropped into a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, and splashed water into her face, hoping it would help to clear her thoughts. It felt cool and delicious on her overheated skin but did nothing to cool her overheated brain. She splashed herself again, then stood up.

  “I haven't even gone into the water yet,” she realized with a laugh. Gathering the edge of her skirt in her hands, she stepped into the next little wave. It lapped around her ankles, then her calves. The ceaseless waves against her skin almost felt like the caress of a lover’s touch. She waded in until the water kissed her thighs.

  “Don't you have a swimsuit?”

  She turned with a start and nearly toppled over backwards. “You scared me!” she called.

  “You're really easy to sneak up on.”

  She stuck out her tongue. A sudden impulse hit her, and she splashed him. “There! Now you need a suit too!”

  Vane sputtered and wiped his face. “Hey, I have the baby monitor; you're going to electrocute me.”

  “It would serve you right,” she laughed as he pulled the monitor from his pocket and set it on the sand. "That was a good idea, bringing it out here. You could maybe stop the terrors before they get too bad." Then her mouth went dry as he lifted his shirt. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm hot,” he explained. “And you look like you want company.”

  “Do I?” Her throat was too tight. She couldn't swallow. Not with Vane's torso suddenly in view like that. “Do you work out?” she blurted.

  He grinned. “I try.” He waded out until he was next to her, not seeming to care that the bottoms of his shorts were soaked.

  She shook her head. “You have, like, an eight pack.”

  He idly touched the burnished planes of his stomach. “It's not what it was when I was younger. Parenting is murder on the physique. All those snacks. I'm getting soft.”

  She poked his rock-hard abs. “Yeah. Real soft.”

  He jerked when she touched him, his muscles contracting involuntarily as her hand brushed his skin. Maggie's sarcastic smile fell away, and she felt her gaze drawn upward irrevocably. When she saw that inscrutable look on his face, her cheeks heated and she made to snatch her hand back.

  But he caught it and swiftly brought it to his lips. “No,” he murmured against her wrist. “Don't stop touching me.” He pressed a kiss to the swiftly beating pulse at her wrist.

  Maggie turned her hand to cup his face. “Like this?”

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  She could feel her heartbeat in every part of her body. The slow, steady pulse as she let her fingers wander down from his cheek to trace the sharp angle of his jaw. The tendons in his neck flexed as she traced his collarbone and dipped into the hollow of his throat.

  “You're beautiful,” he murmured, but made no move to touch her in return. Her heart beat faster as she realized he was letting her take control. She could stop this any time she wanted.

  But she didn't want to.

  She traced her finger down the center of his chest, pausing at the dip below his sternum where the broad planes of muscle converged before following the clear path down to his navel. She spread her palm wide and pressed it flat just below it. “If I'm going to keep touching you,” she murmured, feeling half drunk with power. “I'm going to need to go lower.”

  His stomach hitched under her hand. She looked back up at him and was startled by the raw hunger in his eyes.

  Startled and thrilled.

  “So go lower,” he urged.

  She licked her lips. Keeping her eyes on his, she undid the button on his fly. He made a sound low and deep in his throat, and she felt him shudder. “Keep going?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes. “Please,” he growled.

  How could a word be a plea and an order at the same time? Maggie couldn't believe what she was doing.

  But more than that, she couldn't believe what he was doing to her. He was just standing there, not touching her, but the power that vibrated through his body, the sheer effort straining his muscles as he kept his hands clamped to his side, was intoxicating. She wanted to see how far she could push him. What would make him break? What would make him lose control and yank her off her feet? Crush her to his chest and kiss her until she couldn't breathe?

  Would he break if she sucked at his neck as she sought below his waistband? No, but the noise that rumbled up from deep in his belly urged her onward. Would he still be able to stand when she closed her hand around his girth? He grunted, and his hips jerked involuntarily. Maggie grinned in triumph against his shoulder.

  And then slowly, so slowly, and as gently as the water lapped their legs, she moved her hand.

  “Oh God,” he gasped as she stroked his length. He shuddered and made a noise like a wounded animal “Maggie, shit, Maggie...”

  The way he said her name—with his voice nearly breaking—inflamed her. “When was the last time someone touched you?” she wondered.

  “Like this?” A rueful grin played across his lips. “It's been a long time. I've had... other things on my mind.”

  “What's on your mind now?” She licked her lips.

  That was what broke him. Not her touch—her need to know him.

  Vane made a strangled sound that Maggie hoped was the last shred of his icy composure breaking. She looked up at him eagerly.

  And then gasped as his lips slammed into hers.

  Vane's kisses had always left her dizzy. But this one, out under the stars, wi
th the sound of the ocean in her ears, made her feel like she was outside of her body entirely. Maggie had had her share of fun back in the day, but this was like no high she'd ever experienced.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her easily, and she clung to him, fastening her legs around his waist.

  Her fears melted away. There was nothing else but Vane. Vane's lips, Vane's fingers, Vane's groans as she arched against him. “Need you,” he rumbled in her ear.

  “Have me.” She whooped as he splashed out of the water. “I'm on the pill,” she gasped as they tumbled into the sand.

  “I'm clean. I got tested as soon as I got Annabelle, and there's been no one... there is no one...” She cupped his face and took his lower lip between her teeth.

  The faint popping of stitches as they tore each other's clothes off, the frantic gasping as skin met skin, the lapping of the waves and the sound of Vane's groan as he pressed his length to her center were the only sounds that filled Maggie's ears. Lost in the mindlessness of what they were doing, she barely noticed he'd paused until he'd gone silent.

  She opened her eyes.

  The moon had risen fat and full, and the silvery glow made him look almost otherworldly as he looked down on her from above. “Maggie. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you right now, but I want you to know this. If this isn't what you want, you can tell me. Tell me right now, before this goes any further, and I'll stop.”

  She licked her lips. The feeling that she was where she had always hoped to be was stronger than ever. She pressed her hands against the small of his back. “Yes,” she whispered.

  A shudder rippled through him. With a barely suppressed growl, he thrust inside her.

  Maggie gasped at the sudden fullness. She clutched at his neck, his shoulders; if she didn't cling to him with everything she had, she'd start falling. "Maggie, yes." Vane's voice was completely changed. Gone was the sense of command, of order and control. He sounded like a wild thing, barely able to form speech. He bent his head until his forehead rested on hers. "Yes," he said again, like he was mirroring her, giving in to her the way she'd given in to him. "Let me hear you." He drew back, exchanging his deep, slow, thrusting rhythm for short, shallow strokes that drew little yelps from Maggie's lips.