Hearts Under Siege

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  She went soft and began to ache. He parted her lips by opening his mouth, then touched his tongue to hers. Not tentative, but an invitation. A promise. She whimpered. Her hand plunged into his hair and pulled his head down to her, raising her own to suck his tongue into her mouth. Desire drenched her. She shuddered, the move making him groan deep in the back of his throat.

  His hands started to move. They stroked her back, down to her ass, where they dug in enough to tilt her up to him. His rock-hard cock fell into place as her legs parted slightly. She bowed up, wanting him there, but he held back. His lower body settled between her knees and he supported himself on one elbow while the other hand swept up to cup her breast. The caress contrasted with the sharp pinch to her nipple. She gasped and arched into his hand, breaking the kiss. He buried his face against her neck. His mouth suckled and nibbled the sensitive skin. She cried out and writhed under him. God, she needed him. Inside her. Engulfing her. She bit at his good shoulder and demanded with her hands, tugging, squeezing, until they were low enough to wrap and stroke. Brady gave a long, low moan and pumped into her grip, once, twice, before pulling back.

  “I love you, Molly,” he gasped, raising his head until his mouth brushed hers again. “I want to marry you and make babies with you and, God help me, I want to start now.” He teased her with the tip of his cock. “Tell me no, and I won’t.”

  But she tilted her head back to look into his eyes. They burned, not simply with lust but with fervent intensity. She knew he meant what he said, and she had to close her eyes against the longing that overtook her. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and held him, keeping her body still, until the desperation faded and they relaxed into each other. He whispered her name, so softly she might not have heard it if it hadn’t fluttered her hair.

  And she knew. The longing hadn’t faded with the slow relaxation of their desire. She wanted everything he’d just said. Her birth control prevented the “now” part, but she didn’t bother to explain. She nodded against his good shoulder, and seconds later he slid into her with a long, relieved sigh.

  “I love you, Brady.” She couldn’t let him be the only vulnerable one. “I’ve loved you my entire life.”

  The next stroke was harder, his body no longer languid but tense and straining again. He grunted. “This isn’t going to go the way I wanted.” He leaned back, and the motion pressed him upward against her clit. Pleasure flared, making her gasp.

  “It’s— Oh.” She couldn’t turn thought into coherent words. “Brady, I— OhmyGod.” The faster he thrust, the higher she climbed, the pleasure taunting, tantalizing, so close.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” He slowed again, his hips quivering with the effort. “I love you.” He kissed her and moved slowly, but pushing himself deep and hard into her, his tongue matching the movement, as if trying to bury himself so deep in her he could never be removed. He’d stopped trying to support himself and crushed her into the soft mattress, but she didn’t care. It just meant more of them touched. She laid one hand against his face and held him to her with the other, lifting her hips to meet him as they rocked. Fused like that, they climbed together, their breathing in sync, hearts pounding against each other’s chests, and then exploded. Golden glass shattered behind Molly’s eyelids, the rest of her body echoing the sensation. Brady kept moving, and the ecstasy went on and on until she’d been completely depleted.

  With a moan, Brady rolled onto his back. He tried to take Molly with him, but she resisted. “That must hurt.” She settled on her side and placed her palm gently on his bad shoulder.

  “You have no idea.”

  She started to get up. “I’ll get you some pain pills.”

  “Not yet.” He sighed and the tautness in his face slipped away. He ran his good hand down her back and tucked her against him. “I’m okay. I don’t want you to leave.”

  She kept her head on his biceps, trying not to put too much pressure on his shoulders, but she couldn’t stop tracing his torso. Her fingertips outlined each rib, floated over his nipples, tugged at the little bit of hair on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Brady. I never have.”

  …

  Brady couldn’t believe this much happiness could fit inside him. It was almost as effective a pain reliever as Demerol. They lay quietly, touching, feeling. Being. He’d lived so long with his immature yearning that he hadn’t realized how dark and lonely his life was.

  “I can’t believe you waited for me,” he said after a while. “All this time.”

  She shifted closer and draped her arm across his torso. “I didn’t, really.”

  He scowled, “What do you mean?”

  Her laugh put an immediate damper on his jealousy. “I mean, I had boyfriends. I was even proposed to once.”

  “Seriously?” He couldn’t turn his body, so he twisted his head to look at her. She seemed to realize it wasn’t comfortable and rose to rest her chin on her hand on his chest. “You never told me.”

  “It was when I was in Europe. He was French. Sweet, talented, passionate. But…” Her eyelashes fluttered down to hide her eyes. “He wasn’t you.”

  “See? You waited for me.”

  “Fine, if you want to see it that way.” She kissed his skin, sending ripples of warmth through him. “What do we do now?”

  He heaved a growling sigh. “I don’t know. I guess we talk about it.” He lived in DC, she lived in Boston. They had options, but it would be a trade-off no matter what. “Do you want to stay in SIEGE?” he asked her.

  She shrugged. Her breasts bobbed against him, perking up the one fully uninjured part of his anatomy. “Do you?”

  He’d forgotten the question. “We’ll figure it out.” He coaxed her up onto his body. “We have more pressing matters now.”

  She straddled him and sat up, grinning.

  “What?”

  Her curls bounced when she shook her head. “Nothing. Just…I love you. And I never thought I could be this happy.”

  “Me, neither.” He reached up to cup the back of her neck and pull her down for a kiss. “Let’s see how much brighter the future can be.”

  For the record: a lot brighter.

  Epilogue

  Brady cursed as the big box of ornaments slipped and he lost his grip on the back door, which slammed on his hand. Already sweaty from wrestling stuff around in the loft in the garage, he banged his way inside the house and hauled the dusty, flimsy box down the hall to the living room.

  Laughter rolled out to meet him, and he paused in the archway. His mother, Jessica, and Molly stood by the tree, all as wrapped in strung popcorn as the tree was, and in such a fit of giggles none seemed to have the ability to unravel the mess.

  Chris sat on the couch grinning, and their father stood on a stepladder at the tree, watching them all indulgently.

  “You could help us,” Jessica shot at her husband, ducking and spinning while Molly lifted a strand over her head. Bits of popcorn crumbled to the floor and turned to dust under their feet.

  “I’m still recovering,” Chris tried, but that excuse had stopped working about eight months ago, when he was released from physical therapy.

  “I got it.” Brady set the box on the floor and strode over, scooping up a pair of scissors on the way. With three quick snips, he had them all free. When the women protested, he shrugged. “I don’t know what the heck you were trying to do, but we can’t have popcorn on the tree, anyway. Della would pull it off and try to eat it.”

  Donna tsked at him. “Like any of us would leave her unsupervised near the tree. Where—oh! That’s it!” She’d spotted the box he’d hauled in and beelined for it. “Molly, come here. Remember those awful ornaments you and the boys made in second grade? Here, Rick.” She handed a battered, sequined angel to her husband, who dutifully topped the tree with it and climbed down the ladder.

  “You’re not supposed to put that on until the end,” Chris pointed out. Holding his beer out of the way, he hauled Jessica into his lap and nuzzled her n
eck.

  Brady felt his wife’s eyes on him and realized he was smiling a little. He met her gaze and was relieved to see affection and gratitude there. He retrieved his own beer from the end table where he’d left it and sauntered over to Molly, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning down to kiss her temple.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine. You?” She looked back at his brother and the woman he’d wasted so many years idolizing.

  “Just dandy.”

  Molly chuckled and pinched his side.

  “Honestly, Moll, I am. I’m happy that they’re happy. And I’m happier.” He closed his eyes and kissed her mouth. She’d been sampling the popcorn. He nipped, and they smiled into the kiss. When he raised his head, both his parents were watching them. His mother sniffled and went back to her box, swiping her hand under one eye.

  “This stuff brings back such memories.” She launched into a story about a rocking horse ornament she pulled out of the box. Jessica was the only one listening, but his mother didn’t seem to notice.

  Brady back-walked Molly into the nook between the tree and wall. The lights glowed over her face, dancing in her eyes. He kissed her again, this time deeply, letting all the love filling him spill over. Molly’s arms tightened around his neck and she pressed her body against his.

  Something was different. He broke off the kiss and frowned down at her. She smiled, such a knowing smile he knew instantly why her abdomen had felt so hard. His mouth fell open.

  Before he could say anything, from behind him came “Ew! Not in front of impressionable children!”

  He turned as Shae walked by, carrying Della, her half sister, on one hip. The six-month-old baby babbled at him in the same disgusted tone, making him laugh. Shae deposited the baby with Chris and Jessica and went over to her grandmother, kneeling next to the box and pulling something out, asking questions Brady knew would keep his mother going for hours.

  He turned back to Molly. “Are you pregnant?” He tried to whisper, but his joy was too strong. His mind raced back, looking for clues. She hadn’t spiked her eggnog, but he hadn’t seen any morning sickness, and she hadn’t been overly tired. No more than a three-hour drive from Boston normally made her. Her appetite had been fine. This morning she’d eaten about a dozen of his father’s sour cream pancakes. Well, that was probably a clue, too.

  He realized Molly hadn’t answered him. She was watching him fly through his thoughts, clearly amused. “Well?”

  “Yes. Test was positive this morning.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” That came out louder, and the conversations behind them faltered before they went on, stilted enough that he knew they were listening. He almost turned to shout the news, but Molly grabbed his arm and yanked him out to the kitchen.

  “They’re going to think we’re fighting,” Brady said. “Do you need to sit?” He pulled out a bar stool.

  “Knock it off.” Molly slapped his hand away and leaned against the island. She had no trouble keeping her voice down. “Don’t you dare start with that invalid crap. I can still take you.”

  He grinned. She could, but usually only because their weekly sparring matches turned into hot crash-mat sex whenever he got the upper hand. “So why can’t I tell them?”

  “I want to do it tomorrow. I have a present all wrapped up for your mom to open.”

  He made a face. “So she can go all shrieky and we can film it for America’s Funniest Home Videos?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Okay. If that’s what you want to do.”

  “It is.” She folded her arms and eyed him sideways. “So? What do you think?”

  Brady didn’t give his instinctive response, which was to whoop and spin her around. He thought about the past year, the happiest of his life. On New Year’s Eve they’d celebrate their first anniversary. His mother hadn’t argued against their civil ceremony by the local justice of the peace, not after the roller coaster of Chris’s supposed death and the shooting. He hadn’t wanted to wait, and Molly said she was locking him up before he changed his mind again.

  The fallout from the arrests had been massive. SIEGE had nearly shut down while the oversight committee called in all their agents, conduits, facilitators, carriers, and suppliers and tried to determine who was knowingly working with Ellison and Aldus. There were more arrests and plenty of dismissals, and in the end, the company was starting over with a damaged reputation and a new generation of leaders, including Chris and Dix. Brady had chosen a move to a job as a facilitator and a station in Boston, so Molly could keep her shop open and maintain her conduit role.

  There’d been a big family meeting, and Brady’s parents finally ended all the secret keeping. They’d retired from field work when the boys were young, but Rick had kept his old connections and friendships. He eventually got pulled back in to join the oversight committee and learned his sons had been recruited. He’d recommended Molly, himself.

  Dix hadn’t been the only one suspicious of some of the missions being assigned, but Brady’s father admitted to being blinded by friendship and looking in the wrong direction. Dix’s father hadn’t been involved, much to Dix’s relief, but the older man stepped down anyway, playing scapegoat for the government in an attempt to smooth the path for the revamped company.

  Despite the upheaval in their work life, Brady and Molly had settled easily into their personal one. Every day with her was a gift, and Brady had yet to take it for granted. A baby would obviously disrupt that again, but it would also make their life complete.

  “I’m not ready to share you,” he admitted, stealing another kiss. “Give me, what, about seven and a half months?” A wail from the living room punctuated his words.

  Molly laughed. “Exactly seven and a half months.” She sighed. “I was worried you’d think it was too soon.”

  Brady pulled her into his arms and rested his head on top of her soft curls. “No. It’s just right.” The wail returned, this time escalating. “Come on. Let’s get upstairs before they try to pass her off on us.” He chased her up the steps to his old bedroom and showed her exactly how happy he was.

  The next morning, Shae woke everyone with breakfast in bed. She dashed from room to room, rushing them all through their scrambled eggs and bacon, then chasing them down to the living room to open presents.

  When the floor was invisible under shredded wrapping paper and everyone had oohed and aahed over their gifts, Molly pulled a slim, gold foil–wrapped package out from under the tree skirt and handed it to her mother-in-law.

  Brady should have known this wouldn’t be the typical spectacle shown on America’s Funniest Videos. His mother eyed Molly with spy-like intensity, turned her laser eyes on Brady, and started to undo the ribbon. But her wary anticipation turned to puzzlement when she saw the mission folder inside the paper.

  “What’s this?” She read the numbers on the folder label and shrugged. “Are you trying to tell us you finally got promoted?”

  Molly smiled and slid onto Brady’s knee. But her grip around his hand ground his bones. “Nope.”

  Donna opened the folder. Rick stood and went around the back of the couch to read silently over her shoulder. They laughed together after a couple of seconds and went back to the beginning to read the coded information out loud. By the time they got to the end, Donna was crying, Rick was pretending not to be, and Chris had done the whoop-and-swing with Molly that Brady had been tempted to do the night before.

  “What?” Jessica pulled a bow out of Della’s hand just before it hit her mouth and scowled at Shae, dancing in the middle of the floor. “I don’t get it!”

  Brady, abandoned by his wife, went over to help Jessica off the floor. “We’re having a baby.” He watched her reaction carefully. She’d changed a lot since Della, finding her old self and then improving on her. She was less dependent and needy, more compromising and giving. But every so often, Brady sensed a hint of the feelings she’d confessed to during that other, long-ago Christmas. He,
of course, wondered how he could ever have wanted Jessica over Molly, but he was a dumb jock. It sometimes took them a while to figure things out.

  Jessica grinned and congratulated him with a hug. “I’m so happy for you guys!” Her voice flowed with sincerity, and Brady relaxed.

  He worked his way back to Molly and stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his chin propped on her shoulder, watching his family. He tried to swallow. It was a struggle, the lump in his throat swelling by the second. His parents on the couch, cooing at Della about the cousin she’d have soon. Shae, nearly sixteen, chattering about how glad she was that they were doing this before she went away to college. Jessica cuddling with Christopher, whole and content and toasting his brother from across the room with a bottle of water.

  And Molly and their child in Brady’s arms. It had taken a long damned time to get here, but they’d made it. And he’d spend his entire life making it up to all of them.

  Acknowledgments

  A big thank you must go to Kim Law, who critiqued my first chapter with a completely unbiased eye and gave me an entirely new perspective. Another goes to McKenna Damschroder, for helping ensure I used my music analogies correctly. And one more to Tracy Madison, who not only critiqued the opening of this book once, but twice. Tracy, you always know what’s wrong, and you always know the exact right places to praise. Thank you.

  This may be my favorite of all the books I’ve written, and Nina Bruhns deserves a tackle hug for loving it for the same reasons and helping make sure all areas of the book are strong. My editorial experience on this book was blissful, and for that, Nina, I thank you.

  One final huge thank you is in order to the editorial and publicity team at Entangled Ignite and to the Entangled Ignite authors, who are the most supportive in a world of extreme support. I couldn’t be happier to share an imprint with all of you.