by Mandy Harbin
Yeah, he was a lovesick fool, and he didn’t give a damn. He’d have to give her up one day, but he just couldn’t push her away any longer.
He trailed hot kisses along her jaw to her neck, nipping and licking the path and grinding his aching cock against her wet pussy. He wanted to slam home—they were already naked, so it’d take all of two seconds—but he needed to take her slow, love her with his body as he loved her with his heart, his soul. He wasn’t worthy of her, but she’d always be the other half of him.
And he wanted to touch, kiss every inch of her, worship her body as she deserved.
As he continued his loving attention, trailing a hot path downward, his lips found a puckered nipple. Xan gasped and arched, thrusting it into his mouth, the sound of her pleasure fueling him on. He worried it with his teeth before sucking it hard, bringing that sweet nub to the roof of his mouth. And he still couldn’t get enough of her.
He would never get enough.
He rolled her other nipple with his fingers as he devoured her. God, she tasted so good. Like the sweetest candy. He alternated, swooping over to the other nipple with a groan as his hand raked over the wet one he’d just deserted. But he couldn’t stay on one for long, so he moved between the two, licking, sucking, nipping one while he pinched, pulled, rolled the other. And he moved back and forth, ratcheting up their desire. Xan was a wanton, writhing goddess beneath him, moaning her ecstasy and clutching his hair, not really guiding him—just holding on while he feasted on her.
And then the scent of her musky, spicy arousal mixed with the hint of vanilla that was her essence called to him. He left the pleasure of her breasts and peppered kisses along her softly rounded belly. When he reached her sex, he nipped her upper thigh, her inner thigh, and continued trekking south, brushing his lips on her knee, calf, foot. She let out a little frustrated whimper when he skipped over her swollen pussy, and he smiled, loving the sounds escaping her. He continued his caresses, kissing a path back up her other leg. And this time, he hovered over her core as her legs trembled in anticipation. He blew his hot breath over her drenched folds.
“Please,” she moaned, and his sudden intake of breath at her begging for his touch flooded his senses with her intoxicating scent.
He lowered, lightly licking her seam. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
“You. Just you, Brody.” Fuck! His cock jerked at her admission. He’d just wanted her to be vocal about her sexual needs, and she’d hit him with something deeper. And he loved it. Hated it because he wanted her too, and he knew they didn’t have forever, even though she’d own his soul forever.
But right now, right here she was his, and a primal urge enveloped him. “Mine,” he growled, and then he devoured her pussy like he’d done with her breasts. He licked, sucked, nipped along her slit, his tongue swirling circles around her clit, and the hands in his hair that were just lazily holding on became more demanding. She tugged on him, trying to get him to direct his sensual attention to her most sensitive part. Instead, his tongue stabbed into her quivering pussy, and she jerked up with a gasp as her hips flew off the bed.
She was about to come apart, and his cock was throbbing so painfully in anticipation that he was about to embarrass himself and shoot all over his sheets. He needed to end her torment right now and send her over that precipice he’d had her on. He drew her clit into his mouth and sucked lightly as he batted it with his tongue and shoved two fingers into her. She screamed. Exploded. And he couldn’t continue his ministrations to bring her back down. He had to get inside her right fucking now.
He lunged forward, bracing his weight on his forearms, taking her mouth with his in a searing kiss as his cock slipped slowly inside her. Oh, going slow was killing him, but if he pounded into her, he’d come, and then he’d really be embarrassed.
“Ahhh, yeah, baby,” he breathed into her mouth, fisting her hair, as he started thrusting in earnest.
“I can taste myself on you.”
And if that wasn’t the sexiest thing she’d ever said, he didn’t know what was.
He reached down and grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg up and anchoring it at his hip. Jesus, he wanted to rest it on his shoulder so he could lick her dainty ankle, but he’d save that for another time. Right now, he wanted his mouth melding with hers as he took her.
She lifted her other leg, hooking it against him like the one he’d positioned, effectively opening her up to him, and he pounded into her, finding depths he’d never experienced. It was heaven to his heart. Her hands circled him, nails digging into his back to force him as close as he could possibly get.
And then she gasped, fingers biting into his skin as she thrust her hips up and exploded in his arms. The sounds of her cries, the feel of her clenching around him, her nails breaking his skin, the smell of her sweat and arousal, finally broke his last thread of control. With a roar, he plowed into her as he came, barely registering Xan flying into a second orgasm, giving her everything he had to give.
Long moments later, he eased off her and walked into the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. As he turned, he noticed blood trickling along his side and smirked. His little hellion marked him. And with that thought, another surge of possession swept through him. One he damn well should get used to. He quickly cleaned up his battle scars and returned to Xan, gently cleaning her. He tossed the cloth into the hamper and crawled into bed next to her. She was almost asleep, and he’d love to keep her here all night, but because he loved her, her priorities were also his. He was a selfish bastard, but he knew he’d never be the number-one man in her life. That position was already filled, and Brody would happily take second place for as long as she let him.
“Baby? Where’s Scott at? Do you have to go home tonight?”
She groaned and snuggled into him. Those damn warm tingly things crept over him, and he figured he’d have to get used to that too. He just didn’t have the willpower to deny his need for her. The guilt of what he might’ve done to her all those years ago would eat away at him as his love for her continued to grow, but that was a burden he would bear all by himself. A secret he could never confess. Because it would destroy the woman who mattered most to him.
But he would also take what he could get. He didn’t know how long he had with Xan, but the memories would get him through the rest of his life.
They’d have to.
“He’s staying at Chad’s tonight,” Xan whispered.
“Mmmm, that’s great news,” he murmured as he hugged her tighter to him.
“You don’t mind keeping me all to yourself tonight?” she asked, but she was drifting under and barely coherent.
“Forever,” he breathed, but she was already asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Who was ringing her doorbell at the butt crack of dawn?
Xan groaned, rolling over to glance at her clock. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “It’s not even five o’clock.”
She definitely hadn’t had enough sleep. She’d stayed up until midnight watching Scott play Battle Warfare with Brody and Chad before Scott left to spend the night at Chad’s house.
Over the last few weeks, Brody had been a constant figure in their lives. He’d taken them both out to baseball games, movies, dinner, and when they weren’t all going out, he’d come over and have dinner with them and they’d play board games, watch TV, and hang out like a normal family. It was nice.
Hell, who was she kidding? It fucking rocked. Okay, it freaking rocked. She was really trying to do better on the cussing thing. She had her good days and bad ones. She was woman enough to admit there were some things she couldn’t change about herself, and that was one of them. Not that Brody tried to change anything about her. He seemed to love her just the way she was. And yes, she got a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with her. Thinking that melted her heart and turned her on big time. If he was anywhere in sight when she’d think about his feelings, she’d jump him. Not that he was complaining. When she’d initiate sex, he’d get so
hard and come like a raging beast. It was hot as hell—heck. Yeah, that just sounded stupid.
Grumbling, she grabbed her robe and stalked toward the door. Brody had just been here a few hours ago, and she missed him like crazy. He normally stayed the night when Scott stayed over at Chad’s, but he said he had to get to work early. As for Scott, he was old enough to understand that Brody was her boyfriend, so maybe it was time to ask Scott how he felt about Brody staying over. They’d talked about her relationship with him in general, and Scott loved Brody. He hadn’t admitted that, but she could tell in the way he talked about Brody when he wasn’t around and acted around him when he was.
Of course, she’d have to talk to Brody about it too. This relationship stuff was hard…but worth it.
As she reached the door, she froze. A manila envelope was on the floor beneath the mail slot. Living a life on the run from people who wanted to kill her, she knew a thing or two about not accepting things at face value. This couldn’t be good. Tip-toeing toward the door, but not taking her eyes off the package, she looked through the peephole anyway. Unable to see hardly anything, she flipped on the porch light, illuminating half her small yard.
Still nothing. Whoever had been here only wanted to leave the envelope. For now anyway.
She leaned down and picked up the thin package before turning off the porch light and double-checking that the door was still locked. She walked back to her bedroom because she felt safe there. Maybe it had something to do with being able to hide under the covers. Or maybe it was the gun she kept in her nightstand. Either reason worked for her. When she reached her bed, she sat on the edge and opened the package, pulling out what was inside.
Her heart stopped.
She couldn’t breathe, and she felt as if she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Her hands trembled as she held up the lone item from inside the envelope.
A photograph.
A picture of Marco and Brody…Brody…with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, smiling and laughing. It was an old photograph, but it was them. They looked like the best of friends.
Her ex-husband who wanted to kill her. And her lover. Together embraced in shared camaraderie.
No fucking way.
She was going to be sick, so she swallowed convulsively to stave off the urge, but the lump that quickly worked its way up her throat turned into a sob instead.
She cried as if she was in mourning. And she was because, in a heartbeat, she’d lost the man she loved. The moment she’d opened this package, her life changed.
As she stared at the photo, her tears dripped on it, and she hastily wiped them off with shaky fingers. This could be evidence, so she needed to hand it over to Jack with the FBI in pristine condition.
Jack. She needed to call him. She didn’t know for sure what this meant, but she had a damn good idea. Marco wanted her dead, so he must’ve sent Brody to watch over her, make sure she didn’t run when Marco got his ass out of prison. She bet the story about Brody’s amnesia was a lie to draw her in, which wasn’t necessary because she was already in love with him by then.
“Oh God,” she cried, throwing herself into another round of weeping sobs. She was in love with one of her ex-husband’s cronies. He’d played her for a fool, and she was too stupid to see it coming. Twelve years since Marco tried to kill her and she hadn’t trusted another man. When she finally opened her heart to one, it was to one who’d had no intention of protecting it.
She reached for her cell phone as she continued to sob. Jack answered on the first ring, and she was shocked he was able to understand the story as she relayed it to him because it barely made sense to her. It still didn’t. She didn’t want to believe it.
“Fax me a copy of that photo. And you stay put. Leave Scott at the neighbor’s. I’m contacting the closest team to you. They’ll be there in five.”
Xan mumbled her agreement and listened again while he barked orders and repeated himself twice as she turned on the fax machine and sent him the photo. He really did worry for her well-being. But once the call was over, she was all alone again with just her thoughts, and as the seconds ticked by, she felt the walls closing in.
She had to get out of here, find a new place to hide. Maybe that would cure her anxious feeling. She could call Jack once she picked up Scott and got them to a secure location. But as she jumped from the bed and threw on a ratty old pair of jeans and flip-flops, all she could think about was confronting her lover. Did Marco tell him to fuck her, or had Brody ventured down that path all on his own? Her emotions were all over the place. First she was shocked, then devastated, now pissed all within minutes of each other. She figured she’d cycle through them over and over because her heart was breaking, and she didn’t know how to deal with that, but right now, rage was taking over.
She’d run with that.
Before grabbing her keys, she took her gun and shoved it in her purse. She was too emotional to think straight right now, but she’d be damned if she allowed herself to walk right into the lion’s den without protection. She stomped outside and into her piece-of-shit car. After several tries, she finally got it to start, then peeled out of her driveway—well as much as this old four-banger would. Her breath hitched from her crying fit, and the action caused her to inhale a concentrated scent of Brody’s masculine aroma. She looked down at the culprit and moaned. She’d slept in one of his t-shirts and still had it on. Her lip started trembling, but she couldn’t start crying again, so she punched the gas. She had to confront him now, or she’d lose her nerve and never do it.
She was at Brody’s house in record time. As she stalked up to his door with the picture in hand, she remembered the last time she’d surprised him at his door, which he’d returned the favor by shoving a gun in her face. And why did he have a gun if he was just a mechanic? God, the signs were just adding up. She wished she could attribute her gullibility to her inexperience with men, but the truth was, she’d lived a very cautious life.
There was no excuse.
She knocked on the door and braced herself with a steadying breath and a mental pep talk. She soon realized neither worked when she heard his heavy footfalls inside the house.
The door swung open, and Brody’s sleep-tussled hair caressed his face like a lover. His drowsy eyes became alert as he took her in. Then he reached for her.
“Baby? Is everything all right? Where’s Scott?” The concern in his voice did her in, and the momentary anger she was clinging to dissolved into another sob. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” He pulled her into his house and shut the door, not letting her go.
But she pushed him away. Startled, he eased away from her.
“Xan?” His tone was reproachful, and that was just what she needed to cut through her devastation and grasp on to a spark of anger.
She pulled the picture up with both hands, showing him. “Care to explain this?” He gasped, stepping closer, but she backed away. “Stay where you are.” She shoved her hand in her purse and pulled out her gun. Brody was as big as a fucking house. There was no way she could get away from him if he restrained her, so she had to protect herself as best she could. But as he stared wide-eyed at her, she was beginning to realize how incredibly stupid she was being. She’d been given direct orders to stay and here she was standing in front of the enemy. Really, what was she thinking? When she got a taste of stupidity, she really lapped that shit up.
The look in Brody’s eyes went from concern to his own form of devastation. But why? More games? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t leaving here until she got some answers.
No matter how much they were going to hurt her.
Shit, shit, shit, shit! This was bad. When Hunter had called him to say Xan had left her house and was headed in his direction, he had no idea it was going to be about this. He should’ve told Xan about his past and the possibility of his involvement with Marco when he’d had the chance. But he’d hoped to gain irrefutable evidence that either pinned him to Tess’s murder or pro
of that it wasn’t him. Yeah, he could’ve just told Xan about everything and let her judge for herself, but he was just too chicken-shit to do it. And now here she was, standing in his living room with wet, swollen eyes, tear streaks down her face, clutching a pretty damning photo with a piece aimed at his chest.
For weeks he’d hoped what Colonel told him about killing Xan’s daughter was a lie, and he, Gauge, and Blade had investigated other possible scenarios, hoping that some other thug had done the deed. And here she was holding the fucking smoking gun. Now there was no mistaking his connection to Marco. He’d be sick if he wasn’t standing before the woman he loved, watching her heart break, knowing it was all his fault.
Fuck.
He slowly dropped his outreached hands and backed away, taking a seat on the couch. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
How the hell was he supposed to start explaining? Jesus, this hurt. “Why don’t you sit down? This could take a while.”
“I’d rather stand.”
His head popped up at her shaky voice. She sounded as if she was about to collapse, but she was putting on a brave front, standing with her feet apart, weapon trained on him with one hand and clutching that picture with the other.
“Please,” he begged, looking into her eyes with what he hoped was a no-threatening look while motioning for her to sit. “I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t even touch you. I lo—I, um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s a long story, baby. I promise to tell you everything.”
She looked as if she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and that fucking hurt too. But he waited patiently. He wanted to find out where she’d gotten that picture, but he knew he had no right to demand anything from her. She needed answers first, and he had to find the words to give them to her.
Slowly, as if she was afraid she’d spook him, she crept over to the opposite end of the couch and perched on the edge. Her poor little knuckles were white from fisting the objects she held, and he had to fight the urge to grab her hands and massage the tension away. She was keeping her distance and using a weapon to protect herself. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel any more threatened than she already did.