by Low, Gennita
He made her sentimental; she’d never been that way before. “Why don’t you take a nice, hot shower and then—”
“Later,” he said, the way she’d hoped he would before standing and pulling her close.
And then she couldn’t wait—had never wanted anyone more. No words were necessary—he was on her the way he’d been from day one. Logistics were of course trickier but the man and his body seemed to bend in ways that were superhuman. Chris’s hands were weapons all their own—the fact that they roamed her body with such gentle and purposeful need made it all the better. And when he took her, all was right in the world again. His mouth covered her skin, his kisses hot against her neck as he trailed his tongue in a way that made her squirm with pleasure. She exploded, then melted and he was far from done.
She hadn’t known how badly she’d needed this. Beyond the sex, she’d simply needed to be in his arms.
*
Jamie held him the way she always did, an embrace that had a meaning all its own. Her touch had always said more than she’d allowed herself to verbalize, especially in the beginning. She was different now, but he still relied on the old ways to reconnect.
Coming back was hard. He felt different—was different—but this was the same, with Jamie’s soft skin and the scents that were uniquely hers, the way she moaned under his touch. The way she let go like she never had with anyone, that was all his. Her nails scored his shoulders as he shuddered against her, finally letting himself go after making sure she was more than satisfied.
You’re home, he told himself. In more ways than one, in Jamie’s arms, he was.
*
Chris massaged Jamie’s belly as they lay there, naked, sated. It was Christmas morning now, but she didn’t mention that, or his birthday, because neither were particularly happy memories.
Today, with them all together, they’d try to change that. But his mind was somewhere else, his hand splayed out now like he was feeling the shape of the baby inside of her.
“Can you turn him?” she asked.
“It’s going to hurt you if I try, Chere. What about just going to the hospital?”
“You would try with any other random woman, but not me?” she asked and then narrowed her eyes. “And why aren’t I in labor? Why doesn’t your crazy labor mojo work on me?”
“Hush, bebe,” he told her with a smile, bent his head to her belly and began to sing—it was a lullaby in Cajun French he’d sung to her belly before, but this time it was all for the little boy. He held his hands so they hovered just above her bared skin in a Rieke formation, like he’d told her his momma taught him when she was a midwife.
She closed her eyes and listened to his voice as everything flashed in her mind. Their first meeting, the downed plane where this baby boy was conceived, against all odds, and they’d survived despite all of it. The hospital in Djibouti where she’d been scared to see him again. The school in Brooklyn where he’d saved her and PJ in a standoff with a killer, ending the nightmare they’d been living with since they were young.
Everything had worked out so well, despite the many times she’d thought they never, ever would. She had to believe now, too, because everything Chris did seemed to be touched by a certain kind of magic she’d never known existed.
All she needed to do was believe. Concentrate. Felt Chris begin the actual manipulating of her belly as the life inside of her began to shift.
It hurt. The pain was almost to the point of unbearable. But she squeezed her eyes tight and she dealt with the pain and she just breathed. Because, in the end, that’s what life was really all about—breathing and holding on.
She was doing both.
“Jamie, it’s okay—you can open your eyes.”
“Did it work?” she asked.
“I think so. His head is here.” He put her hand on her exposed skin and she felt the bump, where it was supposed to be. Except now, she felt a lot of pressure. “That’s normal.”
“Normal, but not exactly fun.”
“It’s going to happen any time now, Jamie.”
“Let’s try to get through Christmas first. Your dad cooked so much and Nick brought in the tree,” she said. “I hope that’s okay. I just thought—”
“It’s more than okay.”
There was a knock at the outer door, and Jamie slid a shirt on as Chris pulled on sweats and padded to answer it. She was surprised they’d waited this long to check—and she heard Saint’s voice in the background as well.
Chris hadn’t walked here alone.
“Wait a minute, you mean the one woman not affected by your baby mojo crap is your own wife?” Jake was demanding as she walked into the other room. He pointed to her. “She’s like a hundred years pregnant for Christsakes. Help her.”
“Jake, leave him alone,” Isabelle told him, took his hand. “And as long as we’re not in any rush to labor, I have some news.”
“Oh my God,” Jamie said before Isabelle could speak again and she and Kaylee were hugging her, because they just simply knew.
“’Bout time,” Chris told Jake, who snorted, but the pride was evident in his brother’s face. Nick’s eyes were wet, his voice rough when he said, “That’s good stuff, man. Really good.”
Kenny’s voice boomed out, “And I, for one, can’t wait for payback. Because, my boys, you are going to be her bitch for many, many years to come.”
Chapter Six
‡
It was the nightmare again, but even though it was as scary as ever, it soon turned around. Because Chris was there, right there next to her, with his rifle and his sniping magic and he was saving the day… saving her…
“Can you please breathe?”
A voice—Chris’s voice, in her dream. She turned and saw him, and that’s when the contraction hit.
“You’ve been in labor for half an hour,” he said.
“I guess this is some kind of delayed reaction,” she grumbled after the worst of the pain hit her.
Chris wasn’t listening, instead rummaged through the black doctor’s bag his team had brought him as a gag gift. Of course, that was before they’d realized that his delivering of babies was more than a one-time thing.
It was Christmas Day and Chris’s birthday, too. She’d come in here to rest before dinner and was now in full-blown labor if the look on Chris’s face was any indication after he did a quick check.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Jake said he’d get us to the hospital if we need to go—he’s got a truck with chains and he and Nick are plowing now, just in case.”
“Good. That will help with the karma,” she murmured.
“You’ve also got me.” She opened her eyes and saw the man the brothers called doc standing by the bedside. “I owed him one.” He nodded in Chris’s direction.
As she watched, he set up a portable fetal monitor and ultrasound.
“So far, it’s all looking good. He’s not in any distress, and he stayed turned,” doc said. “Are you going to deliver your baby now?”
Chris cocked his head at her and she smiled. “Go ahead. Don’t break your record now.”
*
In the end, Chris wouldn’t be able to say he remembered much. As usual, it was a blur of making sure mom and baby were both okay during what became an almost frighteningly fast birth. Jamie had some choice words for him as she couldn’t take much in the way of pain meds since she was so close, but for the most part, she was stoic.
He and Isabelle and Doc worked together to make it as stress free as they could. And when the time came, he called Jake and Nick in, because, in cases like this, they were typically his wingmen, the ones who would hold and clean the baby while Chris attended to the mom.
He didn’t see a reason to change things now. And when his boy was delivered and took his first breath and then howled, he put him on Jamie’s chest for a few moments and passed the baby to Jake first. Watched for a few seconds as his brother cradled his nephew gently, cleaned him and checked h
im with a quick, silent efficiency Chris had always admired, but never more so than now.
“He’s pretty damned perfect,” Jake said, his voice rough with emotion. He passed the baby to Nick who teared up but didn’t say a word, just kissed the baby on the forehead and smiled before bringing him back to Jamie.
Yeah, things were exactly the way they should be.
“She looks good,” Doc told Chris when all was said and done, and everyone left them alone for a few minutes.
“You have to bring your dad in,” she told him.
“You won’t see that baby again tonight.”
She laughed softly as the baby snored against her. “Love you.”
“Love you,” he murmured back.
“Guess you have to share your birthday with Christmas and your son,” she pointed out.
“Not a bad deal. Not a bad deal at all.”
*
Kenny held his grandson, looking at the snow, grateful for the full circles life brought him.
“Lucien, you’re a lucky boy,” he said softly, and at the sound of the good Cajun name, the baby’s eyes fluttered and opened, stared at him like they both shared some deep, dark secret.
The men in his family passed down the sight to the males only. Luc or Lucky, as they would no doubt end up calling the boy, would no doubt have it, the way Kenny’s own great-grandfather, also called Lucky, did.
Lucky would also have family. Lots of it. And that had gotten all of them to hell and back.
He enjoyed watching Isabelle and Jake together, knowing their girls would soon be coming, and Kaylee and Nick, committed and content. Kenny had no doubt they’d come home one day and causally announce they’d married in a quick civil ceremony on impulse. That suited them—they both had that impatience and dislike of conventions and rules.
As for him, he held the next great love of his life in his hands.
They had a new reason to celebrate Christmas, and he was so sure Maggie would be pleased as anything.
*
About the Author
New York Times Bestselling author Stephanie Tyler was a Secondary Ed teacher for grades ranging from middle school to college while she pursued a PhD in English Literature, all while trying to convince herself that she would get back to her dream of writing as a career eventually. When her daughter was born with serious medical problems, Stephanie found inspiration in the fighter her child proved to be—and found her own way back to writing. She’s published in a variety of genres, including romantic suspense, new adult and paranormal romance, and she also co-writes erotic paranormal romance under the name Sydney Croft. She lives in New York with her husband, her kids and her crazy Weimaraner, Gus, and they’re all cool with the fact that she’s permanently on deadline.
You can contact Stephanie through her website: www.StephanieTyler.com for more information on the Hold series and her other books, for news on upcoming titles and more!
Mutiny’s Bounty
Delilah Devlin
Copyright © 2014 Delilah Devlin
EPUB Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Chapter One
‡
“Sweetheart, the sharks are down there.” Ice blue eyes wrinkled at the corners as the man bending over the side of the olive-green skiff pointed a finger into the clear blue depths beneath her.
Did he think she’d missed seeing the swarm, or flock, or whatever the hell you called a group of freaking sharks? They were busy ripping into the grisly bundle of fish parts and guts the dive crew had dropped to the sea floor in a wire basket—which was why she’d hurried over here.
“Exactly! Like any sane person would purposely swim with sharks?” She let her voice frag, then crimped her lips to keep from saying anything else that made her sound like she was twelve. Lace McElhannon was glad she hadn’t given him a snarky wag of her head while she’d said it. But seriously, who would blame her for being snotty? Great White sharks were swimming thirty feet beneath her toes and he wasn’t doing anything about it!
When her yacht-mates had blithely donned their snorkels and goggles then fell backward into the water without a care, she’d only hesitated for a moment. How scary could it be? And the dive team had seemed professional, assuring them the spotters’ job was to watch for any trouble, and they would swoop in to the rescue or drop fresh bait to distract the sharks.
Not until she’d glanced down and seen a dozen huge, sleek bodies—with rows and rows of jagged teeth—circling had she’d freaked out, leaving her ship-mates bobbing on the surface like live bait while she’d struck out toward the skiff.
Fighting for breath, Lace dog-paddled, then swam faster against a rising wave that sent her closer to the skiff’s hull. Salty water splashed into her mouth and she gulped without thinking, coughing and spitting, knowing she looked like an idiot, but her poor swimming skills didn’t have a thing to do with her breathless state. Fear froze her body, making expanding her lungs impossible.
Yes, she’d paid to swim with sharks. Or at least she’d paid for the plane ticket to get here to the Bahamas. But maybe she shouldn’t have watched Susan’s Shark Week DVDs beforehand. Her friend, and partner at the travel agency, had tried to dissuade her from choosing this particular adventure vacation, knowing she’d only ever swum in a heated pool. But who could pass up a week in the Bahamas? She’d had visions of watching the excitement through the window of a glass-bottom boat. But now was not the time to wonder why she hadn’t paid closer attention to Jake Halloran’s description of his “little ocean jaunt.”
“You have to help me up,” she said, sliding up her goggles to let the smirking hunk see her terror-stricken eyes. “I have a cramp.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. “We’re not here to rescue clients from their own bad decisions.”
“Make an exception.” She pushed the mouthpiece of her snorkel to the side so he could see the determination thinning her lips.
“Better pull her up, Dex,” another voice above her drawled. “The way she’s splashing, those whites’ll think she’s a fish in distress.”
Dex. So that was his name. But she didn’t have time to savor the mystery that had taunted her since she’d boarded the Clementine three days ago for one of Halloran’s daily jaunts. Despite the amenities aboard the 160-foot motorized luxury yacht behind her, she’d been much more interested in this man than the rock-climbing wall near the upper deck. On their first day aboard the yacht, he’d been introduced as the commander of the guard team providing security for the high-end adventure vacation. Unfortunately, he spent most of his time on the much smaller and faster escort boat which accompanied them while they sailed. She’d really hoped for a chance to get to know him. Everything about him had attracted her—his size, his muscled frame, his icy-cool gaze that landed like a hot laser, making her melt.
Funny how that calculating stare didn’t have the same effect when she was scared.
A rope ladder rolled over the side of the skiff and she swam for it, reaching out and gripping the first rung, doing her best to haul herself up. But she’d been swimming for a good while and her limbs felt like lead weights. She dangled on the rope, half in-half out of the water, catching her breath and staring down to make sure her toes were curled in case the big fishes thought they were sausages. But she’d also watched Jaws. Sharks could lunge upward. Her breath caught in her throat, and she cast a wild glance above her.
A thickly muscled arm shot downward. A steel grip wrapped around one wrist and pulled her up, not releasing until she lay draped over the side of the boat.
She tried to get a leg up and over the side, not caring her ass was on display, but didn’t finish the motion because strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her, setting her on her feet.
She swayed, not having to exaggerate her sig
h of relief or the weakness in her knees to get a chance to lean against the firm, hard body she’d been ogling for days. “You saved me,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
His head shook side to side, his chin rubbing her hair. “You weren’t in any danger. Or wouldn’t have been if you’d managed to remain calm. The sharks really are more interested in chum than you.”
Lace shivered and snuggled closer, reminded she wore the teensiest bikini in her bikini wardrobe and she was getting him soaking wet. She’d hoped for a moment like this when she’d seen him in the powerful little skiff, his dark tee hugging well-muscled arms and a lean torso, lightweight black cargo pants doing nothing to hide the thickness of his sturdy thighs, dark sunglasses giving him an added, irresistible air of danger. And he wore combat boots in a boat. How sexy was that?
Her friend Maya had just such a man, someone who’d put himself in the line of fire to keep her friend safe. And why couldn’t she find a hero of her own? Maybe because she was on vacation and only had three days left in the Bahamas? But a lot could happen in three days if a girl wasn’t too fussy about appearing a little desperate, and she and her fellow passengers were heading back to the villa that night for a cozy dinner party.
A throat cleared.
The boat really was small, and three other hotties sat nearby with their gazes trained on her and Dex. But the one who’d dared interrupt them wore a dazzling smile and gave her a wicked waggle of his blond eyebrows.
“Ma’am, you might enjoy watching the sharks from the swimming platform. Stand in the spotter’s cage and look down. The water’s so clear you’ll feel like they’re closer than they are, but you’ll be safe.”