Her voice rose as he fucked her mercilessly with his tongue, and her taste filled his mouth. He groaned against her, thrusting his hips in time with his licks. He was so close to the brink already, and she had driven him there. “Come for me.” He wasn't even sure his voice was audible against her skin, but she obeyed him almost instantly.
With a hoarse, sharp cry, she clamped her thighs together and fell forward. Vane held her in place as she arched her back like a cat. “Vane!” she cried.
He flipped her onto her back as she thrashed. Her eyes flew open as he thrust himself deep inside her in one powerful stroke. “You're still coming,” he groaned. “Shit, Maggie, I can feel you coming.”
“Vane.” She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tight. “Jesus.”
“I still—” He was close to frantic with need but forced himself to take his time. Savor her in slow, steady strokes because it would be at least twenty-four hours before he could have her again. “I'm still going to make you come with my tongue one more time. I got carried away. Sorry.”
“Fucking hell, you're forgiven. Now fuck me, please.”
The perfect combination of innocent and sexy. She drove him crazy. He braced himself on his elbows above her and did exactly what she asked. He fucked her. No matter how hard or rough he was, she seemed to want more. She raked her nails down his back as he thrust faster and faster. White-hot lightning surged up his spine until it exploded behind his eyes and everything went black. He came with a roar just as Maggie shrieked. Burying his face in her neck, he pumped the last throes of his relief as she came, letting her use him to get off one last time, because damn. She was just... perfect.
* * *
“Are you sure?” Vane asked Al one more time.
The contractor rolled his eyes. “Look, thanks for breakfast and everything, pretty boy. But the day I can't handle a meeting with the city inspector is the day I hang up my hard hat and finally move to Palm Springs like the missus wants.” Al rolled his eyes again and glanced at Maggie as she buttered Annabelle's toast. “You've got more important things to do.”
Vane opened his mouth to protest. And then closed it with a snap. No doubt, in his own gruff, sarcastic way, Al was doing him a favor by offering to handle this meeting. And while he would have insisted on being there for something as important as a permit review in the past, right now, with Maggie floating around the breakfast table like some kind of angel of the dawn, he really couldn't think of anything more important than being with her.
“You're right, I have way more important things to do,” he joked to Al as he stood up. “I'm a busy, important man, after all.”
Al gave him a good-natured salute with his middle finger—checking that Annabelle was not paying attention first—and then downed the rest of his coffee. “Do me a favor and get the hell out of my way. Go clear onto the other end of the island if you can. Last thing I need is a fancy suit butting into my business.”
He set his mug down, wiped his face, and then left the kitchen without saying goodbye.
“Well then,” Maggie said, sounding half amused, half-scandalized.
“I think we've been summarily dismissed,” Vane agreed. “We'd better do what he says.”
“What are we doing?” Annabelle asked. She looked up at Vane with naked interest. Crumbs clung to the corner of her mouth. Her hair was still in a snarl from her pillow, and she had the bright-eyed look of a kid about to set off on an adventure.
His heart swelled just to look at her, and he had a strong impulse to catch this moment and preserve it in amber. Freeze her forever, just like this.
And there was only one way he knew to do that.
“How about,” he said slowly, “we take some pictures?”
“Yay!” Annabelle jumped from her chair. “I'll dress pretty!” She dashed off.
Maggie looked at him in confusion. “You're a photographer?”
“Hardly. I'm an amateur with fancy enough equipment that I can fake it pretty well.”
“Why didn't I know this?”
“I bet there's a lot you don't know about me.” He took advantage of Annabelle's absence to slide his arm around Maggie's waist and pull her close. “But if you stick around, you'll find out all my secrets.”
Her smile faltered. Vane dropped his hand as his neck heated. “I'm just kidding,” he tried to recover. “I know you're leaving soon.”
“Yeah,” she said, and turned to busy herself with the breakfast dishes.
11
Maggie dragged her toes across the sand. Ahead of her, Annabelle splashed dramatically in the water, posing for all she was worth.
“Stop looking at the camera!” Vane laughed for the millionth time. “These are supposed to be candids, and you're posing!”
“I'm not posing!” Annabelle protested before posing again.
Vane looked over his shoulder, laughing. But his smile fell when he caught Maggie's eye. “What are you doing way back there?” he asked. “Come here. Front and center. I want to see you.”
“Come on!” Annabelle yelled.
For the girl's sake, Maggie allowed herself to be drawn into the game. She tried to push aside the flare of fear that Vane's offhand comment in the kitchen had ignited in her and joined in with Annabelle's calculated splashing. With Vane's encouragement, she found herself being able to push away her mother's voice in her head exhorting her to, “Keep moving. Never grow moss,” and enjoy the moment. Vane moved in closer and closer, the shutter on his fancy camera clicking like he was a paparazzo on the red carpet. Before long, he glanced down at his bag.
“I need a new SD card,” he sighed. “Just when I was starting to warm up.”
“You've taken at least a thousand pictures already.”
“Like I said. I'm starting to warm up.” He grinned at her, and she felt more of her apprehension melt away. “It must be close to lunch time anyway. Let's go eat, and I'll download these.”
They gathered their strewn belongings and headed back up to the house, only to be met with a stone-faced Al.
“First thing I want to say is it's on me,” the contractor announced. “And it'll be done on my dime, Vane.”
Vane slowed to a halt. “What's going on, Al?”
“A supplier fu—” Al glanced at Annabelle. “Supplier screw-up,” he amended. “That I would have caught if I was the one who signed off on the delivery. But I let my wife's lazy-ass—sorry—nephew do it because he needed the credits for his internship.” Al raked off his hard hat and wiped his brow. “I wanna let you know that I fired his sloppy ass. Sorry,” he added as Annabelle's eyes went wide.
“But what happened?” Maggie wanted to know.
“Wrong grade of lumber.” Al looked genuinely pained. “They tried to pull a fast one by sending us the cheap shit—sorry—instead of the one up to code.” He groaned. “And my head carpenter's been out 'cause his wife just had a baby. I didn't think I needed to check on it because I'm so used to him knowing his shit—sorry. But since it was signed off on, the crew just went ahead and used it.” Al wiped his brown again. “It's a real mess, and I am real sorry.”
Vane pressed his lips together. “How long?”
“Obviously, I fired that supplier with a vengeance. But we gotta tear down all the work we did with the wrong lumber and then wait for the back-ordered stuff that meets code to come in.” He shook his head. “I'm thinking at least another four weeks.”
Vane let out a long breath. “Shit.”
“You swore, Uncle Vane.” Annabelle looked gleeful.
Vane shook his head. “Sometimes it's warranted.” He gripped Al's hand. “I'm not letting you eat the cost of this, Al. You know money is not my concern.”
Al nodded. “Time is.”
“Uh huh.” Vane turned to Maggie. The corner of his mouth kicked up in an apologetic smile. “I hate that I have to ask you this, but I have no choice.”
“Stay?” Maggie squeaked. All eyes were on her. Even the sun felt like a spotlight..
. or the bright light in an interrogation room.
“I hate that I have to ask you,” Vane said again. And he looked like he really did. “I can pay you extra, like an overtime fee—”
“Stop,” she begged. She didn't need the reminder that he was paying her. Not after what they'd done last night—and the night before that, and the night before that. She felt the sudden urge to take a shower. “I know you need me—”
“I do.”
“Me too,” Annabelle said glumly.
Maggie's heart wrenched. “How long?”
“End of the summer.”
She swallowed. That would put her right up against the start date of her new contract. No time for vacation. No travel, no exploring, just the beginning of a five-year slog trapped in one place. A shiver of fear went down her spine at the very thought... but what could she do? They were all depending on her. She was helping them.
How could she possibly say no?
“Okay,” she relented with an explosive sigh. “In for a penny, in for a pound, right?” She summoned all the courage she had and announced, “I'll stay.”
* * *
The first thing she noticed when she woke the next morning was that everything was wrong. Why hadn't her alarm gone off? Why hadn't Annabelle come tiptoeing in to wake her? Why did the slant of the sun indicate it had already climbed halfway up the sky?
She jumped up with her heart in her throat and raced down the hall to Annabelle's room. The door stood open, the bed was rumpled and unmade, and to Maggie’s horror, her drawers stood open and clearly rifled through.
“Annabelle?” she choked.
“Hey.”
She screamed and whirled around.
Vane threw up his hands. “Hey, don't attack. It's okay.”
“Where is she? Why didn't you wake me up? Is she downstairs? What's going on? Why does it look like a bomb went off in here? I mean, more than normal?”
Vane chuckled. “I'll answer those questions backwards, if you don't mind. It's messy because Annabelle is bad at packing. She's not downstairs; she's actually on the road right now. I didn't wake you up because I wanted you to get some rest.”
“But why? Where is she?”
“Whoops, forgot to answer the very first question, huh?” Vane slid into the room and wound his arms around her. “I called my brother and asked him to take her for a few days.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I know you wanted a break. I can't give you one at the end of the summer like you wanted, so I figured the least I could do was give you one now.”
“Your brother?”
“Art just had a baby, and Annabelle loves that little hellraiser more than anything in the world. She was thrilled with the idea of spending a few days getting spit up on by the little Jack-Attack.”
Some of the tension flowed out of Maggie, and she sagged into Vane's chest. “You mean, I'm not on nanny duty?”
“In fact, you are forbidden from doing anything remotely nanny-like for the next three days.” He kissed her long and slow before pulling back. “I'm glad you got to sleep in, but we need to get a move on. Our plane leaves in an hour.”
“What?” she yelped. “Plane?”
He shook his head. “To be precise, a jet, and I guess it's fine if we're late, seeing as we're the only passengers and they won't fly without me. But still, let's get going.”
Bewildered, Maggie washed up and got dressed. She'd just poured herself a second mug of green tea when the sound of wheels on the gravel drive sent her to the window.
“Car is here. You all packed?” Vane waved to the driver.
“You have a chauffer?” She blinked at the uniformed man mounting the porch stairs.
“Kind of. Mostly I pay him to sit around,” Vane joked as he shook the man's hand. “Frank Meechum, meet Maggie Stewart.”
“Pleasure,” Frank said, kissing her knuckles in an ostentatious display of chivalry. “And, sir, you pay me to be available, not to sit around.”
“Oh, is that what I'm doing?' Vane chuckled. “Well then, it must be worth it. Bags are on the landing upstairs.”
“I can get my own bags,” Maggie protested. But Frank was already vaulting up the stairs two at a time. Vane held open the front door for her. “Really, it's no problem.”
“Let him earn his fee,” Vane laughed and guided her to the sleek town car.
She slid into the back seat and swallowed hard as her fingers brushed the buttery-soft leather seats. She'd known Vane was wealthy—the beautiful house and the costly repairs were a big clue—but a uniformed driver? Was he just showing off for her benefit?
“Airport, sir?” Frank asked once he'd stowed their bags in the capacious trunk.
“Hobbes has the jet waiting. He's probably in a bad mood because I got him up so early.”
“If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I'm pretty sure Hobbes is always in a bad mood.”
“Wait, who is Hobbes?” Maggie asked, bewildered.
“Jonny Hobbes. He's my pilot.”
“He wouldn't be if you would finish those flight hours, sir,” Frank spoke up from the front seat. "You always say you can't wait to fly yourself.”
“Mind your own business, Frank,” Vane laughed easily.
“Wait a second. Back up. You have your own plane?” Maggie stared at Vane, wondering what else she'd missed.
He blinked at her. “When I started being bicoastal, it just made more sense,” Vane explained, as if buying his own private jet was the same thing as buying a bus ticket. “It's a little much for a short trip like this, I admit. But I didn't want to waste any time.” He pressed a kiss to her hand.
She swallowed hard and tried to push down the rush to judgment. She could hear her mother's voice in her head, sniffing disdainfully before railing against fat cats and their inherent evil. Vane wasn't evil. He was a nice person, and he treated the people who worked for him with an easy, joking respect. They all seemed to like him, even Hobbes, who was indeed in a bad mood. He was the same Vane who had her wondering if she could finally stop searching.
Once they'd landed in wine country and a different driver had whisked them to a rustic bed and breakfast, she felt like she was back on solid footing with him. Their private cabin was tasteful and luxurious, but not opulent. And the owner of the B&B, a frizzy-haired, bangle-wearing hippie named Melody, reminded Maggie so much of Kiara that she did a double take upon arriving.
“We press our own grapes,” Melody explained at the end of the brief tour of the grounds, which included a private lake and several tidy acres of grapevines. Maggie glanced down at the owner's bare feet and hoped that wasn't what she meant by press. “We're up to six different varietals this year and expanding further. Our signature blend is a Riesling we age in oak barrels like Chardonnay. Would you like some sent to your cabin?”
“Please, but...” Vane paused and let his eyes roam up and down Maggie's body. “In a little while, okay?”
Maggie flushed to the roots of her hair, and she whooped with laughter as Vane scooped her up in his arms and rushed across the rolling lawn to their cabin. Clinging to his neck as she kissed him, she could almost feel like this was right. That the two of them could maybe stay like this forever. But she knew they had a time limit. Vane had asked her to stay longer.
Would he want her to stay even longer than that?
And if he asked her, Maggie wondered as they tumbled into bed, would she be brave enough to say yes?
12
“You're back!” Annabelle yelled as Maggie and Vane emerged from the back of the car.
“How are you, Frank?” A blond, tattooed version of Vane called from the porch. He was bouncing a sturdy baby boy in his arms, seemingly unconcerned that the baby was trying to hurl himself backwards towards freedom.
“Good, Mr. McClellan—”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Art,” the blond version of Vane complained. “God, you make it so awkward.”
“Maggie, meet my brother Arthur.” Vane ro
lled his eyes. “I swear we weren't raised in a barn—he just likes to act that way.”
“You're Maggie, huh? You look like a fun person. Why on earth would you want to spend time with my brother?” Arthur tempered his teasing with a smile as he slapped his brother on the back. The baby headbutted him, and he chuckled and clapped his hand to his face. “I'm going to get going before this one decides to make a break for the ocean. The place is looking better, Vane.”
“Getting there,” Vane agreed, shaking his brother's hand. “Thanks for the last-minute babysitting.”
“Hey, my little Bluebelle did more babysitting than I did.”
“Uncle Vane! Uncle Art paid me money!” Annabelle yelled from the porch. “Can I go buy something?”
“You need to teach her about investing,” Art said with a wink. “All that boring stuff Granddad was into.” The baby let out a frustrated wail and pitched headfirst towards the ground. Art caught him easily and laughed. “Okay. Time to strap this one in. Nice to meet you, Maggie. If you manage to dislodge the stick from Vane's ass, I'll be pretty damn grateful.”
Vane blew out a heavy sigh once Art had wrestled his protesting baby into the backseat of his sports car and peeled off. “My little brother is a charming fellow.”
“He's funny,” Maggie giggled. “You sure you two are related?”
“Hey, I make you laugh plenty.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “And more importantly, I make you make other noises too.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Annabelle asked innocently.
“Did you have fun with your cousin Jack?” Vane redirected smoothly. He went to his ward and kissed the top of her head, a gesture that made Maggie's heart feel too big for her chest. “He's a handful.”
“Not for me,” Annabelle loftily declared. “Aunt Cassandra says I have the magic touch. He actually napped for me yesterday, which Aunt Cassandra says takes at least an hour of bouncing, but I got him to go to sleep in, like, only five minutes. I think I should run a daycare or maybe be a nurse who takes care of babies in a hospital, because I'm, like, totally the best babysitter on the planet.”
The Billionaire’s Ward: McClellan Billionaires Book Three Page 8