Only Yours (A McDade Brothers Novel Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  They’d never kissed. Why did he have to do this now? His lips were making her dizzy. The cradle of his hand around the back of her head gave her an intense sensation of security that she hadn’t had before.

  His other arm locked around her and he lifted her again. Her legs curled around him, clinging tight just like her arms that were coiling up and around his head, keeping his mouth engaged in the kiss she didn’t want to lose for a moment.

  Whisper lost his kiss when he laid her down on his bed. That was when he pulled back to slide the cotton straps of her dress from her shoulders, easing it down over her hips, taking her panties with it.

  She arched to unhook her bra while he shed his tee-shirt and shorts. They finished stripping at the same second, just as he dropped down over her to pick up their kiss where it had left off.

  His long, hard form dwarfed hers. Nestled beneath him, lost in their kiss, she couldn’t imagine ever feeling safer or more content.

  Whisper was so consumed by his kiss, so enthralled by it that she didn’t realize the route of his hand until his finger slid into her.

  Her whole body slackened, even her mouth forgot to keep kissing as her head rolled back. “Oh God,” she exhaled when he pulled it out to push it back in.

  He’d never stimulated her like that, never used his hands to pleasure her. Whisper hadn’t thought anything could be better than his kiss, but he was proving her wrong. Maybe it was the adrenaline and anxiety of the day, but the moment he touched her quivering clit, she went off. Bucking up and calling out in an orgasm she hadn’t expected to achieve so soon.

  He pushed her legs up and apart. Whisper was too boneless to think about objecting to anything. Not that she would anyway. The sensation of the engorged head of his cock pushing into her was medicine for everything that was wrong in her life and in the world.

  It frustrated her that he left it there, just inside her opening, going no further. When she opened her eyes to seek the delay, she found he was there above her, just watching her. His gaze was heavy and as enraptured as she felt.

  Opening her hands on his body, her fingertips traced up and down the defined lines of his torso and up over the globes of his shoulders to then slip down his impressive arms. It was a torment that she was too short to kiss his mouth, but she crunched up to let her lips taste whatever they could reach.

  Her husband.

  It was insane to be doing this when she’d still have to walk out the door, but it felt too good to fight. When she flopped onto the bed again, he pushed up, moving his hips slow so she’d feel every inch of him sliding into her.

  It felt like she wasn’t breathing though she definitely was; those short breathy inhales were hers. He was so long and thick that even she had to brace herself for the impact he had on her body. But Whisper adored every tingle and pulse that vibrated through her.

  Once he was all the way inside and his groin was pressed to her, he stalled again. This time she wriggled, stimulating herself against the weight of his body, using him to take herself closer to the climax she craved.

  One wasn’t enough. She wanted two or three or four. Whisper would never have him again. Her husband was supposed to be the only man to ever occupy her body. Something about that clarity felt so right. But she couldn’t make any promises to him or to herself. Life on the streets was hard and that was all she had to look forward to.

  Turning tricks was likely her future. Her body was the only asset she had; realizing that broke her heart. She was going to share herself with other men, dozens of them, maybe hundreds. Not because she wanted to, but because she’d have to. It was the only way she’d survive.

  Before Whisper could lose herself to the grief of that prospect, Zaid snapped her out of it by withdrawing and advancing.

  He didn’t stop, but didn’t really pick up the pace. For the longest time, he pulled out and slid in, keeping their gazes as locked as their bodies. Whisper had never watched a man make love to her before.

  She frowned. Make love. She’d never made love with a man at all. Whisper fucked, or screwed, or banged, she didn’t make love.

  As if sensing her confusion about what was happening or how she’d found herself in that position, Zaid withdrew and slammed into her hard. Her mouth opened in a sharp yelp.

  It didn’t matter what they were doing or why, what mattered was feeling it.

  He sped up. She worked against him to work with him. Their contrary and harmonious movements matched each other in pace and rhythm until both were panting, fighting to get over the crest of climax.

  Whisper crashed over it in the same moment he did. She didn’t even try to silence her scream of need that went far beyond the release of her body venting the pleasure of her orgasm. She screamed for her life and the torture of having to leave it. She screamed for every hit her father had delivered that she’d had to take without fighting back. She screamed out her hatred for the Byrnes and her guilt over the way she’d treated her mother. And she screamed in disgust for Burl McDade and the frustration that his choices were forcing her into a corner.

  Her lips closed as she opened her eyes to find Zaid still above her. He probably wondered at the insanity of the woman beneath him, who’d just hollered like a virgin being gang-raped. But he didn’t question her.

  He moved away. No, not away, he climbed off her, and took her with him as he lay in the middle of the bed. Easing her head to his chest and her arm across his body, Zaid slid his arm beneath her to hold her there. Seemed he figured the sex had erased her intention to leave.

  Sitting up, Whisper wasn’t going to let herself relax or bask in any afterglow. It was time to go. Now.

  Knowing he wouldn’t let her climb over him to slip out, she got off her side of the bed, closest to the window. Skirting the bed to grab her bra from the floor at the end, Whisper was quick to slip her arms into it.

  “What the hell, Peanut?” he asked, rising to his elbows to watch her fasten her bra clasp.

  “You’re amazing, Zaid. I swear, I’ve never had a better lover,” she said and meant it.

  Despite it being true, the statement seemed to come off as insincere. Maybe it was because she was hurrying. Once her bra was on, she retrieved her dress and panties to put them on too.

  “You’re not walking out of here,” he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed to snag his shorts and tug them on. He sat back down and bent to sweep his tee-shirt up. Whisper hoped his dressing would distract him, but as she was about to retreat, he lunged forward to lock his grip around her wrist. “Whoever wants to take you down, I’ll take them down first, I guarantee it. Trust me—”

  “No! Goddamnit! Stop asking me to trust you!”

  Losing it wasn’t the plan, but he’d switched on all these things inside her. Whisper felt overloaded, like she couldn’t see or hear or breathe. Life was careening out of control; she didn’t like feeling as if she was just along for the ride. Whisper had to take control, to be in control, or she’d never survive a minute.

  He leaped to his feet, his tee-shirt in his fist. “Why? Why is it so fucking hard to give me your trust? The world didn’t fall from its axis when I gave you mine!”

  “I never asked for it,” she said, trying to twist her arm from his grip and peel away his fingers, but it wasn’t working, he just kept on holding her. “I never wanted it. And you’re a fucking idiot for giving it to me.”

  “Why? Why, huh? Why shouldn’t a husband trust his wife?”

  Giving up her fight against his grasp, Whisper wanted to scream again. Instead, her frustration and upset cascaded out of her in a startling truth.

  “Because I’m lying to you, asshole! I’ve been lying to you for weeks!”

  It wasn’t his fault, so the insult was unnecessary. Still, it worked, at least, her confession did. As his frown became a searching scowl, his fingers loosened. Good. That gave her the chance to slip from his hold. While he was standing there processing, Whisper took advantage of the opportunity to dash back into the closet
to retrieve her bag.

  She regretted the delay when coming out of the closet because Zaid was marching toward her. “Tell me,” he demanded, pulling on his tee-shirt.

  “No,” she said and straightened the strap of her bag, intending to put it over her head. Zaid snatched it and threw it away again. “Goddamnit! Stop doing that!”

  Whisper went after the bag, which gave him the opportunity to put himself between her and the door.

  “I withhold from you all the time. There are truths neither of our families have shared, but that’s business. This isn’t business. You’re not talking business. Business wouldn’t do this to you.” She didn’t know what he thought ‘this’ was, but he wasn’t wrong. “You’re not lying to the family as a Doherty, you’re lying to me as my wife.”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” she said, succeeding this time in tossing the bag strap across her body. Whisper started back toward him. “Now we’ve established that I’m a lowlife, want to get out of my way?”

  Zaid didn’t move. “Why would your lie make you leave?” he asked, talking to himself. “You married me because your father threatened your life if you didn’t. If you walk out of here, if you leave me, you’re signing your death warrant with the Dohertys.”

  “So move aside and give me a fighting chance… a head start at least,” she said. “You’re under no obligation to, but I’d appreciate it if you waited as long as you could before telling them I’m gone.”

  That request made his brows rise. “You want me to cover for you? Are you shitting me?”

  Had Whisper known he was going to catch her, or refuse to cooperate, she’d have slipped out at night after Burl and Parker were on a plane and gone. If Zaid sounded the alarm before they got on that plane, they’d abandon their trip and come back. She’d be just as well putting a bullet in her head.

  “Fine,” Whisper said, taking off the bag to dump it on the floor.

  Crouching to unzip it, she yanked her knife from its sheath and stood up. After holding the weapon up to give him a quick look, she grabbed his wrist to pull him into their bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” he asked when she climbed into the tub and put the knife in his hand.

  Whisper began to strip again. “Can you hit the aorta? You’ve got to be able to do that? Right?”

  “What the hell—”

  “A gun causes blood spatter,” she said. “And I know it’s nuts, but I’ve always had a weird thing about slitting my wrists. I wouldn’t have the balls, it just weirds me out.” He was still just standing there, flabbergasted, so she picked up his hand and pointed the blade at her chest. “You were a good husband, Zaid. Consider this mercy your last marital act.”

  Instead of plunging the knife into her, he swept his hand aside, tossing the knife to the floor.

  “I’m not gonna kill my wife. I’m not my father.”

  Wearing a half smile, she climbed from the tub and went to retrieve the weapon. “Ain’t I glad about that.” Whisper got back in the tub and sat down. She was trying to align the blade when a sudden thought made her pause. “Wait, do you want me to write you a note?”

  “A note?”

  “To say the sex was consensual and I did this myself.”

  Protecting his future would lead to her writing the oddest suicide note ever.

  He sank to a crouch outside the tub and took the knife from her. “I won’t let you kill yourself.”

  Relaxing her hand, she leaned closer. “Zay, this is my mercy. If my father finds me, it will take days, maybe weeks, I don’t want that. I know you don’t owe me anything, but—”

  “No one is going to hurt you.”

  “You don’t know what I know.”

  “Then tell me,” he said, his deep voice almost beseeching. “Trust me with whatever this lie is.”

  She slid a hand to his jaw. “I’ve heard about some of the things you’ve done to people.” She smiled. “When my father told me I was marrying you, I called you a psychopath.” Now she knew that wasn’t true of her husband but may be true of her father. Zaid laid a hand over hers. “I don’t know what that is in your eye when you look at me, but I do know I don’t want to watch it dwindle and die. Kill me, Zaid. Please…” Any softness in his gaze vanished. “I need you to do this before my father or yours gets the chance to strap me down and torture me.”

  “If you know something they need to know—”

  “No, it’s not like that,” she said, shaking her head, then smiling. “The worst part is, there is no way for me to save myself. There’s no magic bullet, nothing I can reveal that will make them spare me. They just want me dead… That’s all they want from me.”

  “I don’t understand why you think my father would… I saw him today, he said nothing. Whatever you think he knows, he doesn’t, and if you think he’ll find out—”

  “This isn’t what he found out. I discovered something and he knows I did and…”

  Whisper was getting too close to the truth, so she shut up and took a breath. Figuring Zaid was going to keep on thwarting her efforts, she got out of the tub to get dressed. “Maybe I’ll deliver myself to Madison,” she murmured and smiled again. “As an early wedding present.”

  Snatching her arm, he whirled her around. “What fucking wedding?”

  “You’ll see,” she said, stepping in to nuzzle his arm because it was all she could do. “Take care of yourself, McDade. And twist the knife in my father once for me, huh?”

  Leaving the bathroom without looking at him again, Whisper didn’t like going without her knife but would pick up another weapon along the way.

  Retrieving her bag from the floor, she only got one step before he came out of the bathroom.

  “You discovered something,” he said, stalling her. “About my father… you think if you tell me, I won’t believe you.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me,” she said. “I have a feeling that it would eventually eat at you enough that you’d get the truth from other sources. Even if you didn’t believe me, after I was dead and buried, you’d always wonder. I’m not the only one who knows the truth.”

  That made him bound toward her. “Who else knows? My father? You think I’d confront him?”

  “Your father and mine are too alike; two bullheaded, stubborn assholes. You’d never get the truth from your father. He’d never say the words.”

  “Then you think I’d get them from someone weaker. Someone who wouldn’t hold up under torture.”

  That made her smile. “You’re not going to torture someone in your own family. You certainly don’t have it in you to torture a woman, not one who adores you.”

  But while Whisper enjoyed the joke, he processed what she shouldn’t have said.

  Clarity struck fast. “Nicole,” he murmured. Panic shot through her. “Nicole knows.”

  Starting for the bedroom door, he was a man on a mission. Whisper tossed her bag to the floor and dashed after him, trying her best to block his route as he’d done to her so often that evening.

  But she didn’t have his strength or size. He pushed her from his path like she weighed nothing.

  “No,” she said, running after him when he opened their bedroom door and started down the stairs. “No! Zay! Don’t!”

  It didn’t take him long to get to Nicole and Parker’s bedroom. Without knocking, he threw open the door and marched inside, startling Nicole who was sitting on the bed surrounded by glossy magazines.

  Getting right to the edge of the bed, he bent over and grabbed Nicole’s jaw to haul her onto her knees. “Say it,” he growled.

  The instant panic and consuming fear radiating from Nicole was palpable. “Oh my God,” she whimpered, her frantic eyes darting sideways to seek Whisper by the door. “You told him.”

  Whisper opened her mouth intending to say that she hadn’t, but Zaid spoke before she could. “I want to hear you say it.”

  Nicole’s voice broke. “I wanted to have a baby,” she wailed.

  Zaid le
t Nicole go to whip around and look at Whisper like he didn’t get it. And why should he? A woman wanting a child was hardly newsworthy.

  But Nicole wasn’t done. “Parker wouldn’t… couldn’t and… it had to be a McDade baby! He said it would be easy, and the baby would… even if it couldn’t be Parker’s, it would be a McDade…”

  Slowly, Zaid’s gaze cooled and crept around to the woman on the bed, who was turning and twisting the hem of her dress in her fists.

  “What in the fuck…” Zaid said. “You’ve been fucking Doran?”

  Blinking, the confused Nicole raised her attention from the bed. “What? I… no, I…”

  She looked to Whisper; Zaid did too.

  “It sure as shit wasn’t me. Score’s not even in the state. Who the hell else…” Horror hit him. His mouth opened as disgust contorted his expression. “You discovered something about my father…” he murmured to the floor, obviously replaying what had been said upstairs. In a flash, he whipped around to Nicole. “You’re fucking Burl?”

  Nicole pounced onto her knees. “I thought Whisper told you!”

  “No,” he drawled, sinister in every aspect. “My wife toed the line and kept the fucker’s secret… Like we all keep his secrets.” His attention snapped around to her. “He threatened your life?”

  The truth was out, so there was no reason to lie. “He wants Doran to marry Madison Byrne,” Whisper said. “I’m out.”

  “Because of this?” She nodded. “Does Doran know?”

  Folding her hands on the doorframe behind her, she leaned back against it. “About his upcoming wedding? No. About the affair? I don’t know. I have no idea who else knows.”

  Spinning around, he turned his rage back to Nicole. “Does Doran know?” The tears were streaming down Nicole’s face. The sight reminded Whisper of the blonde in Kitty’s. Nicole didn’t answer fast enough, so Zaid raised his volume. “Does Doran know?”

  “No!” Nicole wailed. “No! No one knows!”

  “Do you think Parker does?” Whisper asked.

  Zaid was quick to answer. “A man doesn’t find out his father is fucking his wife and just let that shit go,” he said. A moment later his attention jumped up to land on her. “Tell me he didn’t…” Whisper swallowed while doing her best not to look at him. A slow rumbling laugh vibrated in his throat. “Oh, I’ll make him sorry he ever lived.”