by I. T. Lucas
“You know I do. I told you so.”
“Do you miss me when I’m not with you?”
“You know the answer to that as well.”
“When you’re at work, do you think about me?”
“I do.”
“And are you impatient to be done so you can go home and be with me?”
He nodded.
“And if you come home and I’m not here, what do you feel?”
“Disappointed?” He wasn’t sure this was what she wanted to hear.
Bridget smiled. “There is no right or wrong answer. Just say the first thing that comes to your mind.”
Right. She seemed satisfied with his answers up until that point, and he didn’t want to blow it by giving the wrong one.
“Where are you leading with this?”
“I’m proving to you that you love me.”
Turner sucked in a breath, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Whatever he said now, could and would be used against him.
Bridget took a sip of coffee before continuing. “I don’t know what else you expect to feel, but that’s about it. We are not teenagers, and love doesn’t hit us over the head or kick us in the stomach with gut-wrenching intensity. Love washes over us like a warm wave, covering us in a blanket of security. Sometimes love just feels like home.”
Epiphany.
Sometimes love just feels like home.
Turner had never had a home. He had a house, a place to sleep and a place to eat, and a place to stay out of the cold and the rain. But none of the places he’d lived in were home.
He didn’t remember what it had felt like before his grandparents had taken him in, but their house had never felt like a home. The old folks had done their best to make him feel welcome, but he’d always had a sense that he was disturbing their plans for a peaceful retirement and that they would’ve been happier without him.
They had taken him in out of obligation and not because they’d wanted to start raising another child. A very strange child who didn’t fit any of the molds they were familiar with.
But that wasn’t the entire story. As a small kid, he’d hoped at least one of his parents would come for him, and they would live as a family again. Victor never allowed himself to feel at home with his grandparents. When he got older and realized it was never going to happen, he’d closed the door on those childish hopes and moved on.
The connection between love, home, and safety didn't exist for him. It was like expecting a desert dweller to know how to swim when he’d never seen a pool of water larger than a bucket to wash in, or to know what an ocean was.
Victor could have been eating love for breakfast, lunch and dinner but mistaking it for something else.
“Thank you.” He took Bridget’s hand and kissed the inside of her palm.
“For what?”
“For teaching me what love is.”
11
Bridget
Wow, talk about a breakthrough.
It had been one thing to acknowledge Victor’s love for her in her own heart and mind; it was a much greater accomplishment for him to acknowledge it too.
“That deserves a celebration,” Bridget said.
“What do you have in mind?”
She waggled her brows. “You know me. What do I always have in mind?”
His eyes, which had looked so tired until a few moments ago, sparkled with life. “Chinese?” he teased.
Bridget pretended to think. “No, I’m in the mood for Indian tonight, a delicacy from the Kama Sutra menu.”
Victor chuckled. “Did you ever look at that menu?”
“No, can’t say that I have. But I can imagine a few interesting poses.”
“Can you now?” His breathing was getting heavy, his pale blue-gray eyes roaming her body as if she were a tasty treat.
That was Victor at his best. Intense, hard, demanding. Not the version diluted by chemo.
Lying back on the couch, she trailed her fingers down the plunging neckline of her dress into the valley between her breasts. “I’m sure you can come up with something too.”
As Turner’s eyes locked on where she wanted them, there was fire in them. “I have a few ideas,” he said, dipping his head to kiss her fingers and then pay homage to the swell of her breasts.
Bridget cupped the back of his neck and tugged him up. “I want a kiss.”
“A woman who knows what she wants. I like that.” He planted his mouth over hers.
She slipped her tongue between his lips, sweeping it against his. He let her play for a moment before taking over the kiss.
Yes, she wanted him like that. Taking what he wanted, what he needed.
Strong, healthy…
Stop it! Not now!
Letting out a moan, she arched up and rubbed her achy nipples against his chest.
There were too many layers of fabric between them. “Take off your shirt.” She started on the tie, loosening it.
Turner took over, tossing the tie behind him and then opening three buttons before yanking the shirt over his head and throwing it behind him.
Bridget smiled, reaching with her palms for his defined pectorals. It had been a clumsy striptease, but the results were no less tantalizing for it. Turner’s chest was magnificent, and no matter how many times she saw him like that, it never failed to send a tingle of excitement straight down to her core.
“Your turn.” He tugged on the bottom of her dress, pulling it up.
She lifted a little, helping him pull it over her head.
His eyes blazing with need, he just yanked her bra up and away from her breasts and with a groan descended on a nipple.
“I’m going to lick and suck those red berries until you come.”
She wasn’t going to argue with that. Reaching for his bald head, she held him to her as she arched up. “More.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he mumbled around her nipple, then went to work, suckling and nibbling until it became too much and then moved to the other one.
When both buds were tight enough to poke holes in a wall, Victor leaned back and admired his work. “Perfection. Did I tell you already how much I love your breasts?”
“Only my breasts?”
He smoothed a hand over his mouth. “Everything. I don’t know where to start.”
It wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for, but she could live with that.
For now.
In time, Victor would learn to associate the word love with the actual feeling and not just to describe something he found desirable.
“You could start by getting me naked.”
“Yeah, that’s a very good idea.”
As he hooked his thumbs in the elastic of her panties and pulled, his heavy-leaded eyes pursued her body, making her feel beautiful, desirable, and uninhibited.
Not that she was a shy wallflower to start with, but with the other men she’d been with, Bridget had always held back or pretended a little. She’d never been fully in like she was with Victor. There was no artifice between them, which was huge for people like them that rarely allowed anyone even a glimpse into who they really were.
With a sinuous body wave and a sultry smile, she reached down and cupped her hot center.
Turner sucked in a breath and reached to where her hand went, pushing it aside and replacing it with his own.
“Mine.”
Bridget parted her thighs, giving him better access. “Yes.”
As he spread her with his thumb and forefinger, his other hand went for the belt of his slacks.
Bridget arched up, inviting him to do more with those talented fingers of his.
When he penetrated her with two digits at once and swiped his thumb over her clit, it was like pushing the pedal to the metal and sending her down the orgasm express lane.
Kneeling between her spread legs, his fingers doing all kinds of wicked things to her, Turner yanked open his slacks and shoved them down to his knees.
As his erection sprung free,
she reached for it, but he pushed her hands away.
“I’m too close.” He thrust a third finger inside her, then swiped his thumb over the center of her pleasure.
With a loud groan, Bridget let herself go, her orgasm erupting from her with a gush. A split second later, Victor was inside her, pumping hard and fast and prolonging her orgasm.
“I can’t hold it much longer,” he gritted.
“Then don’t.” She dug her fingers into his hard buttocks, holding him to her as she arched up to meet every thrust.
His body tensed, and he went still, then threw his head back and roared his climax.
Fates, he was magnificent.
As a human.
She could just imagine how he would be as an immortal.
12
Anandur
“How are the party plans going?” Callie asked. “Have you decided when and where?”
Anandur looked up from the list of things to buy for the party he was compiling. “I don’t have a final date yet. Several Guardians are already here, and a few more are arriving in the next week or two, but most of them have affairs to settle and will take longer.”
“How about where?”
“I think it’s better to do it in the keep. The guys might get too rowdy for the civilians already living in the village. We can use the gym.”
“Anything I can do? I would gladly cater it.”
“I appreciate the offer, but we are talking Guardians. Your gourmet cooking would be wasted on them. Meat, beer, and more meat, and more beer are what’s needed.”
Callie put down a platter on the table and leaned over his shoulder. “So what have you been scribbling on that yellow pad for the past hour?”
“Party favors.”
“Like poppers and noisemakers?”
“Those too. But I have more serious stuff, like bagpipes and small-pipes and border pipes, fiddles, low whistles, maybe some drums.”
Brundar groaned. “I need to get earplugs.”
Callie put another dish on the table, green beans with some brown sauce on top. “Do many Guardians play an instrument?”
“Most do. Don’t forget we didn’t have television or radio back then. If we wanted entertainment, we had to produce it ourselves.”
“Will there be dancing?” she asked hopefully.
“Aye, sword dancing for sure.”
“Drunken dancing,” Brundar grumbled.
“I would love to see that, and since you’re not inviting anyone other than the Guardians, the only way for me to be there is to cater the food. I can set up a grill and serve steaks and ribs.”
Anandur scratched his beard. “I like that.”
“I don’t. I’m not letting my mate anywhere near a bunch of drunken Guardians.”
“You have a point.” Sober, there was a chance the guys would behave, but not after several bottles of Snake’s Venom. There would be dirty jokes and lewd songs and burps and farts. A Guardian party was no place for a lady.
Callie spooned a big portion of green beans on to her plate. “Can you at least record it? I want to see the sword dance performed by real Highlanders.”
Anandur scratched his head. “I’ll have to ask the lads’ permission. This party is for them. I don’t want their fun censored because they know they are being taped.”
“You’re right.” Callie waved a hand. “Forget I even asked. Let the guys have their uninhibited fun and get as rowdy as they want.”
Brundar speared a chunk of meat on his fork. “Don’t forget that Kri is going to be there, and I’m thinking of inviting Carol too. She is not a Guardian, but she is a trainer now.”
“That’s not a problem. Those two can handle themselves.” What’s more, they had every right to be there.
Kri was a fully-fledged Guardian, and Carol was preparing for a mission more dangerous than any of the Guardians had ever undertaken. The chances of her actually going on that mission were slim, but not because she’d changed her mind about it.
Anandur wasn’t planning on clearing her for the mission until Carol proved she could be as ruthless as the next Guardian, and Kian wouldn’t do it either until they could figure out how to provide her with backup and a way to communicate with them.
“That’s right,” Callie said. “The guys have to accept that they are living in a time where women can do everything men can do.”
Brundar nodded. “The problem is that there were no females on the force when they served.”
“There are now.” Anandur pulled the platter closer and forked a big chunk of beef, put it on his plate, then reluctantly reached for the green beans.
Callie insisted he needed vegetables in his diet.
He scooped three and put them on his plate, carefully placing them on the edge, so they were not touching the meat. It was bad enough he had to eat them; he didn’t want them to contaminate his beef as well. Rolling her eyes, Callie pointed at the bean dish. “You’re like a little kid. It’s not going to kill you to eat some green stuff.”
“I know. I just hate everything about it, from the taste to the texture, to how it feels sliding down my throat.”
He also hated being treated like the kid in the family. Brundar and Callie meant well. They wanted him to feel welcomed and accepted, but they also bugged the hell out of him.
The girl could cook, he had to give her that, but that didn’t give her the right to nag him about eating things he didn’t like.
And Brundar, who’d always been on Anandur’s case about the mess, was even more so now because of Callie. He didn’t want his mate to pick up after his slob of a brother.
And rightfully so. It wasn’t her job.
Anandur didn’t fault Brundar for that, but it was clear that this arrangement was not working for either of them. The mated couple needed their privacy, and he was an old bachelor who was set in his ways and didn’t appreciate being told what to do.
The only one who would ever have that right would be his mate. But since he wasn’t going to find one any time soon, he would rather stick to his old habits than compromise to appease his brother and his brother’s mate.
“I should move out.”
“What?” Callie put a hand to her chest. “Because of the green beans? Forget I said anything.” She waved a hand at the platter of meat. “Eat whatever you want. I promise never to mention the word vegetables again.”
He patted her arm. “It’s not about the veggies, lass. It’s time. I’ve stayed too long as it is.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to hear a word about it. This is your home. If anyone needs to move out, it’s Brundar and me.”
“Sheesh, Callie, too much drama over nothing. I’m looking forward to moving in with my Guardian buddies and celebrate old times with lots of booze, bad jokes, and loud pipe music.”
Callie pulled out the big cannons; a quivering lower lip and a lone tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m going to miss you. Who is going to tell me jokes? And who is going to update me on all the latest gossip?”
Brundar growled, casting Anandur an angry glare.
The question was whether he was glaring because Callie had said she was going to miss Anandur, or because Anandur had made her cry.
Fates, he hated tears.
“I’m not moving to another continent, lass. I’m going to be right here in the building, and you can see me any time you want. We can meet up at the café every day, and I’ll fill you in on everything that’s going on. Well, not everything, just the juicy tidbits.” He winked.
She wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I have a better idea. I want you to come over for dinner. Every day. And I promise not to bug you about veggies.”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Promise me that you’ll be here every day at seven.”
“Unless I’m on duty, I will be here.”
“I’m going to hold you to it. If you don’t show up, I’ll send Brundar to drag you over.”
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br /> “When I make a promise, I keep it.”
“What if you find your mate?” Brundar asked.
“I don’t think there is anything to worry about since it’s not going to happen. But if it does, we will revisit our arrangement. Deal?” He arched a brow at Callie.
“No deal. When you have a mate, you’ll bring her with you. Cooking for four is no different than cooking for three.”
Anandur shook his head. “I said that we would revisit.” He might have been a bachelor, but he knew a thing or two about women. None would appreciate having no say about where they dined and with whom and how often.
13
Eva
Eva swiveled the ice cubes in her glass. “It sucks to watch you girls guzzle up drinks while I have to make do with the non-alcoholic version.”
Not that the drinks Amanda’s butler had made for her were bad. Onidu knew how to mix almost any drink with alcohol or without.
As always, Amanda didn’t skimp on anything. The food had been catered by Gerard, the chef and co-owner of By Invitation Only, and the bar had been stocked with everything any of the girls could have dreamed of.
The only thing missing was the male stripper, or strippers.
The party needed entertainment.
“I hope the guys are having fun,” Syssi said.
What she hadn’t said was more fun than the girls were having. Bhathian’s bachelor party was happening a few houses over, at Nathalie and Andrew’s, and it was probably just as boring as this one.
Unless Anandur was stripping for them. That could have been fun to watch. At least she would have had a few laughs.
Nathalie frowned. “I hope they are keeping it quiet. If they wake up Phoenix, it will take hours for her to fall asleep again.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Syssi waved a hand. “If that happens, I’ll watch her.”
“Okay, girls,” Amanda clapped her hands. “Who wants to play charades?”
Sharon groaned, Syssi hid behind her hair, and Bridget stuffed another hors d'oeuvre into her mouth.