by Fiona Archer
“My favorite!”
His gaze swallowed hers. “I know.” The way his voice deepened…
A tingling heat swept through every nerve, making her aware of how close she stood to him, how her breathing grew quicker.
She looked away. “I’ll chop the veggies.”
Anything to keep distracted.
Kayla didn’t like her chances of achieving that goal.
Chapter Six
An hour later and dinner eaten, they were sitting on the leather couch listening to some jazz.
Gabriel topped off their glasses of red wine with the remainder of the bottle they had with dinner. Leaving their glasses on the coffee table, he sat back.
Kayla stared into the fire glowing in the stone hearth opposite them. “Thank you for building the fire. It’s relaxing.”
“My pleasure.” He hated the width of the seat cushion between them, but seeing her begin to lower her guard was reward enough.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
Grimacing, she rubbed her arms.
Hmm, the little analyst needed a distraction from the storm—and her thoughts.
“You could do with a shoulder rub.” When she opened her mouth to object, he firmly grasped her wrist. “Sit here.” He grabbed a large throw pillow, placed it between his feet, and waited until she gave up the fight and sat between his legs, facing the fire.
“I…uh…” She first rested her elbows on his knees, then by her sides. “I’m not sure…”
“I am.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling the muscles tense underneath. He gently squeezed until she relaxed. Sliding his fingers up the back of her neck and into her hair, he watched with satisfaction as she sank deeper into the cushion, visibly less on edge. Repeating the pattern, he smiled at her low moan of pleasure as he extended the massage to her shoulders.
“So good,” she mumbled, her eyes closed.
Ten minutes later, he slowed his movements then stopped. She roused slowly and turned so her forearm rested on his knee. Looking up at him, her features soft, unguarded, she smiled. “That felt amazing. Thank you.”
Gabriel didn’t question his next move. Cupping her chin and the back of her head, he leaned down and captured her lips with his.
Her tiny gasp was silenced by his kiss. He held back, letting her decide if they went further. Hesitant at first, she soon accepted his lead, sighing as he nipped her lower lip and traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue. Their kiss deepened to a slow, drugging exploration. Her hands glided up along his arms to rest on his shoulders.
When she rose up on her knees and returned his kiss with a hungry urgency, he tightened his grip in her hair and slanted his mouth, demanding more.
Her delightful wriggle at his subtle act of dominance stoked the heat firing in his blood. Stroking his tongue over her lips, he forced them apart and swept her mouth, tasting her.
Gathering Kayla closer, he pulled her onto his lap and leaned back on the couch. Her grip on his shoulders disappeared, only for him to feel her hands push up under his Henley. He groaned as her fingers smoothed over his chest, down his abdomen, and skimmed the waistband of his jeans.
As their kisses grew more fevered, he ran one hand over the skirt covering her thighs, bunching the material. From there, he skimmed her hips before slipping the other hand under her sweater.
So soft. Her skin was like silk. She shuddered as he traced over her ribs. Ah, yes, she was ticklish. Maybe later? For now, he had other plans. He lifted the cup of her bra, freeing her breast.
“Yes,” she breathed as she dug her fingernails into his chest.
He palmed her sweetly curved flesh, plumping and kneading, before swiping his thumb over the now hard tip of her nipple.
“Ooooh.” She tried to rear back, but he held her in place.
Swiping his thumb again, this time faster, he smiled as she let her head fall back, her mouth open, eyes closed.
Blue light filled the room seconds before a deafening clap of thunder sliced through the night.
Kayla screamed, and then her gaze landed on his Henley and the shape of her hands underneath.
“Fuck.” Gabriel had a sinking feeling her horrified expression had little to do with the storm.
Chapter Seven
No! NoNoNo. Kayla scrambled off Gabriel’s lap, bumping the back of her legs painfully on the coffee table.
“Kayla.” Gabriel stood and reached for her, but she stepped clear, her thoughts jumbled as she fixed her bra.
This can’t— She couldn’t have—
“I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”
“Like hell,” Gabriel cursed.
What right had he to be pissed? “What would you call it then? Making the most of a night indoors?”
“Fuck, no.” He scowled. “It was nothing like that.”
“Then what the hell are we doing, Gabriel? I thought you only went out with me because you were ‘bored.’” She spat out the last word.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head, absorbing the blow.
How did that make sense? He was the one who’d hurt her.
He opened his eyes. “You were always a big part of my life, sweetheart.”
“That’s not the impression I got. In fact, you made it clear I had no role whatsoever to play in your life.”
“I made a promise to Max,” he confessed. “One I’ve regretted for years.”
“What kind of promise?”
“To force you away.”
She blinked.
Gabriel continued. “To reject you. Break your heart so you’d think me a bastard and move on from me.”
“What?” The word was a whisper as sudden coldness infiltrated her core.
“Max was worried I’d break your heart.” He grasped her hands in his. “He wanted to protect you. My problem was, at twenty-two, I didn’t have enough faith in myself to be the man you deserved. That’s on me. Not Max.”
She snatched her hands from his. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
He took a step closer, but she held out a hand, warding him off. “Don’t.”
Surely, Max wouldn’t—Then she remembered the terse, hushed exchanges between Gabriel and Max during the week before her birthday. Her brother’s glares toward Gabriel whenever he had his arm around her.
Heaviness invaded her chest.
If only Max had talked to her.
She swung back to face Gabriel. “Who gave either of you the right to dictate my life?”
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I fucked up. No denying it.”
At least he owned his mistake.
Dammit, if Max were here, she’d—
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.
Max was lost to her. Whatever thoughts she longed to share with him—good or bad—would remain unspoken.
And Gabriel?
“You said you regretted keeping your promise to Max. What does that mean?”
The piercing intensity of his gaze held her transfixed. “I love you, Kayla.”
The floor seemed to drop from under her. “You…you love me?”
“I’ve never stopped loving you.” He pulled her into his arms, not giving her a chance to object. “The question is: How do you feel?”
She stared up into his face, “I—” How could she answer that? Wouldn’t she need time? Except…today she’d learned how little he’d changed from the man she’d fallen for six years ago. If anything, his confidence and insight had evolved. He’d become more compassionate in his dealings with others.
Life didn’t often give out second chances. Was she brave enough to claim what she’d always wanted?
“I came to the conclusion on my eighteenth birthday you were the guy for me.” Her smile felt tremulous as she sucked in a steadying breath. “I love you too.”
He crushed her to his chest. A moment later, he claimed her mouth.
She clung to him, not wanting this moment to end.
When he raised his head, her he
art danced at the joy and love shining in his eyes.
“From the moment you walked into my house this morning, I’ve been consumed with the hope of winning you back.” He stroked a thumb over her cheek. “I’m never letting you go now, sweetheart.”
“Consider me caught, babe.”
Epilogue
Gabriel stood on the balcony and watched Kayla park her blue coupe in the driveway. Boxes were crammed in her vehicle. More books? He was going to have to build Kayla her own library.
Not that he minded. Life was good.
A week had passed since last Friday and Kayla walking back into his life.
Tonight, they would celebrate her moving in with him by having a dinner for Adam to thank him for bringing them together.
“Hey,” she called out, hands on hips, looking too cute wearing his red-checked flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. “Are you coming down to help, or is your fragile masculinity intimidated at the thought of carrying boxes of my favorite romance books?”
Now there was a challenge. “I’ll show you how fragile my masculinity is, woman.”
After bringing four boxes inside, he pulled out one of the romance books and started reading, soon caught up in a scene.
She spied the book’s cover as she came back inside. “Oh, her sex scenes are the stuff of fantasies.”
He dropped the book and swept a giggling Kayla up in his arms.
“Let’s put those fantasies to the test, sweetheart.”
Copyright 2020 Fiona Archer
About Fiona Archer
Thank you for reading PRINCE OF SEATTLE, a delicious bite from my Sons of Sydney series. I’m excited you’ve met some of my characters, especially the wonderfully uber-protective and dangerous Adam!
Want more stories featuring Adam Justice and his brothers? Check out those books here.
Two further books from Sons of Sydney will hit e-readers in the first half of 2021 (including Adam’s story), followed by a spin-off series featuring more swoon-worthy heroes. Take a look at my Amazon page and follow me to get alerts of my new releases.
* * * *
What’s my story?
I drink buckets of iced coffee, and love writing addictive, sizzling romance spiced with suspense. My past jobs include organizing the lives of Fortune 500 type CEOs and wrangling wayward football stars at promotional events. Writing books about sinfully commanding alpha heroes and teaming them with sassy, smart heroines is my most rewarding job ever.
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My Books:
Craving Justice, Sons of Sydney 1
Tempting Justice, Sons of Sydney 2
In His Custody (linked to Tempting Justice)
Small Packages
by
Gen Ryan
Chapter One
“Hold my leg above my head,” Molly panted as her husband plowed into her. This wasn’t lovemaking; it was quick and with one end goal in sight: to make a baby.
“Will your leg reach that far?” His hip motions slowed a bit as his eyes found hers.
“Just do it! I read in a magazine that raising a leg makes it easier for the sperm to swim.”
“All right.” There was hesitation in Ty’s voice, but she pushed it aside and waited impatiently as he positioned himself. As he raised her leg, Molly’s muscles got tighter and tighter, a burning sensation taking over her entire calf.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.”
“Damn it,” Ty cursed as he let her leg fall back. Molly closed her eyes as the burning subsided, making her unable to enjoy the view of her sexy-as-sin husband working his magic.
She opened her eyes as Ty’s motions got quicker and more forceful. She moaned, rolling her hips forward to meet his thrusts.
Even though this was just an afternoon quickie in between their work schedules, Molly loved the time they got to spend together, their slick bodies frantically grasping at one another. The pressure was on, though, as they’d been trying for months to get pregnant and yet each test was negative. Ty had gone to the doctor to make sure there weren’t any issues on his end. Of course, there weren’t. That only left Molly.
Deep down, she was afraid to go get checked out. She vowed, though, that if this time she didn’t get pregnant, she’d go see the doctor. She hated doctors. But not for the normal reasons.
Being a witch had its challenges.
She wasn’t the kind of witch that drove everyone crazy; she was a magical powers, twitch your nose, I Dream of Jeannie kind of witch. But she was worried that even though she could do a lot of things, maybe being a mother wasn’t one of them.
“Fuck, Molly, I’m about to come.” She grasped at Ty’s back and clawed a little, just how she knew he liked it. His body spasmed around her.
“Quick! Get off.”
Ty scurried away, shaking his head. Molly lifted her legs in the air, her bare ass on display. Ty smacked it, and she screeched.
“Don’t. We can’t let a single drop out.”
“I wish you’d say that when you give me a blow job.” Ty snickered.
“All right, smart ass. Get back to work. I’ll see you tonight.”
He leaned over and kissed her before taking a quick shower and leaving.
Molly lay with her legs up in the air for 20 minutes before finally cleaning herself up.
As she passed the mirror on her way out the door, she paused.
“At least my legs are getting toned.” She admired the muscle definition in her calves. “Here’s hoping there’s a bun in the oven.” She patted her stomach before heading back to work. She hated getting her hopes up, but she wanted this so badly she was willing to do anything. Maybe even a little nose wiggle to expedite the process.
Chapter Two
Molly swung her feet over the edge of the doctor’s chair, anxiously awaiting whatever news she was going to deliver. Since the last jaunt in the sheets, they were three negative tests deep. And since they had been trying to get pregnant for months with no luck, Molly was convinced she was a barren wasteland. She’d finally made an appointment and was ready to know whether the pitter-patter of little feet was in her future or if she was destined to be a childless woman.
“Molly?” The doctor knocked before she entered the room. A large smile spread across the doctor’s face. Dr. Seinfeld had delivered Molly 30 years ago and she was a witch, so it was very possible she was more than 100 years old.
Dr. Seinfeld glanced down at Molly’s file as she sat in the chair next to her.
“Everything looks great. Sometimes these things take time. You need to let nature run its course.”
Molly stared at her, blinking. That wasn’t exactly what she was expecting to hear. “So, I can have a baby?” She jumped down from the table, anxious to let Ty know that she wasn’t broken or infertile.
“Of course, sweetie. You’re healthy and in excellent shape. When the time is right it will happen. Just enjoy the practice.” The doctor winked.
Despite the knowledge that all her lady parts were working, Molly wanted a baby now. That was the problem with growing up in a witch family. Everything happened in an instant. But when she married Ty, who had no magical powers whatsoever, Molly had stopped practicing—much to her mother’s chagrin.
“Thanks, Dr. Seinfeld.” She bounded out of the office and slid into her car, her mind whirling with excitement. She didn’t want to wait; she had powers and could do something about this. She smiled to herself knowing the exact witch who could help her.
“Mom?” she asked into the phone.
“Molly, darling, how are you?” A few pots and pans clanged together in the background. Her mother, Jasmine,
was a whiz with potions, and Molly was positive she could help mix together something to help expedite the baby-making process.
“I’m okay, Mom. I just left Dr. Seinfeld.” She sighed.
“Oh no. Everything okay with your vagina?” Jasmine questioned. Molly stifled her giggle. Jasmine had no filter and always said whatever came to her mind. It was one of the many things that made her so comical.
“My vagina is fine, thank you. Dr. Seinfeld said that I should let nature take its course when it comes to having a baby, but I don’t want to. Make me a potion, Mom. Something that will help us conceive sooner. Please?” she pleaded.
The phone went silent.
“Mom?”
“I thought you’d never ask! I have just the thing I’ve been working on to help increase fertility in both you and Ty. I’ll swing by your house and leave the ingredient list on the counter. It’s about time you started practicing magic again. You were given a gift. And you know what they say: If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.”
“Pretty sure that’s in reference to sex, but magic works too.” Molly laughed.
She could sense her mother smiling through the phone. “You’ll be an excellent mom. I’ll have the list waiting for you. I love you, Molly.”
“I love you too,” she said as she started her car. A sense of hope came over her. Her mother was the best potion witch on the entire East Coast. People paid good money for her expertise. Was Molly as good as her? Absolutely not. She’d never cherished her gifts like her mother. It was a different time that Molly was born into, and being unique was a challenge, so she shied away from it. She just wanted to be normal. Whatever normal was. It certainly wasn’t a young woman whose doctor was a 100-year-old witch, or whose mother could make someone do whatever she wanted with a sip of a drink. Molly had wanted to go to the mall and chase boys, not learn about witchcraft and spells. The older she got, the more she regretted those choices. She knew she couldn’t change the past, but she could move forward.