by Leslie North
“You should be...”—dead air—“…us.”
“You’re breaking up.” Chance swallowed more beer. The sky brightened suddenly with lightning.
“Yeah,” Lee chimed in, letting Chance know they were together. “Coverage has been spotty.” Silence. “…a bitch on the music app.”
“Would you get off that already,” Harris groused. “We’re stopped for the night in Arkansas. Close to the Oklahoma border.”
Chance chuckled. He could just imagine the fights his two brothers were probably having about the music. Harris tended toward southern, classic rock, and country, while Lee preferred alternative rock and heavy metal.
“Don’t be worried…” silence “… you can’t reach us,” Lee stated. “The Shelby’s doin’ fine.”
A knot unfurled in Chance’s stomach at the pronouncement. Maybe they wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road after all. “You seeing anything interesting?”
“Sure are,” Harris answered just as the clouds released their payload. “We’re trying to stay off the highways as much as possible.” Dead air. Chance increased the volume over the rain pounding the roof. “…to see more than ugly road signs and median trees.”
“It takes longer,” Lee inserted, “but we’re not on a schedule so we could give a—”
Staticky silence.
“Sounds like a plan.” Chance inhaled the ozone saturating the air. He loved a good thunderstorm.
“How’s it going there?” Harris asked.
“You figure…Mandy’s in danger?” Lee tacked on.
For a brief instant, Chance thought about confiding in his brothers. To unload what he had learned about her father’s gambling and Walter’s role in collecting, but he bit his tongue. Why make them worry? Or worse, make them cut their trip short. Lee had to unwind and recharge. After Dad’s death and his own unexpected medical discharge, Lee had lost so much faith in himself, he needed the road trip to let off steam and hopefully restore his confidence. As for Harris, he’d been the closest to their dad so the death hit him the hardest. And whether he admitted it or not, Chance had spied signs of Harris struggling with his military career. Chance prayed the road trip would give Harris a measure of peace and maybe some of the answers he was internally seeking.
“All’s quiet on the home front,” Chance finally answered. “Mandy and I have gotten…closer.”
Harris and Lee seized on that opening.
Chance dropped his head back as they tagged-teamed mercilessly between dead air spots and thunder, ragging on him both about Mandy and about calling Springwell home.
“I think I’m staying,” he announced when he finally got a word in to answer a question tossed at him. “It’d be nice after nonstop missions to be settled in one place.” He lifted the beer, but didn’t drink. “I thought I’d be stifled, but,” he debated whether to keep going, “when I’m around Mandy and the garage, the world slows down and I feel in sync again.”
“That makes sense,” Harris drew out, his voice full of contemplation. “You had been about to ask her to marry you—”
Sound restored on Lee snorting. “But instead she broke up with you before you could say a word.”
Chance grunted. To this day, he had no clue why she’d ended things between them. A pair of blazing hazel eyes haunted him as she laid into him in the bar that first night he saw her. Okay. Maybe he now had a clue, but he still didn’t understand it yet.
“Hey,” Harris interrupted Chance’s musing. “We’ve gotta go. I’m hungry and we’re about to find out what this town has to offer for Saturday night entertainment.”
“Keep us posted on the Mandy situation,” Lee demanded, almost growling. “We’re here if you need us to back you up or—”
The call dropped.
Staring at the rain, Chance contemplated his next move. This evening had been a turning point with Mandy. To what end, he wasn’t sure, but he intended to find out. If he had his way, he’d find out what happened twelve years ago, then do his damndest to never repeat the same mistake. When he thought of the future, Mandy featured heavily in it.
9
“Chance.” Mandy coughed against the smoker’s rasp that was supposed to be a perky greeting. Clutching the doorknob in her tightening fist, she blinked bleary eyes, squinting against the early sun beyond her front porch. “Um, what time is it?”
Chance smirked, the sexy scruff on his face shifting with his cheeks. Even in a white T-shirt advertising a gym she’d never heard of untucked over khaki cargo shorts, he looked sinfully tempting. Lifting one of two large to-go cups, he rumbled, “I know better than to show up without caffeine. It’s just the way you like it.”
“Come in.” She stepped back and snatched the cup from his hand when he crossed the threshold. Closing the door, she spied the clock on the DVR, then jolted and smoothed a hand over her hair and grimaced. “Wow. I slept in.”
“I like it.” His eyes roved from the top of her messy bed head down her thin-from-wear T-shirt—would he recognize it used to belong to him?—pausing on her pebbled nipples poking against see-through fabric before dropping to her bare thighs. His gaze flamed with every inch he studied, showing he’d caught she didn’t have anything on underneath. She had actually slept naked last night, her body so keyed up, she couldn’t handle anything touching her skin. She’d just pulled on the shirt to answer the door.
“Yeah,” he growled, licking his bottom lip. Tension radiated, soaking the air with the promise of finishing what they’d started last night. “I like this look a lot.”
Her breasts grew heavy and her stomach quivered. “I guess we’re not waiting to see each other until Monday morning?”
Pink tinged his cheeks contradicting the stillness of a predator sizing up his prey. “Thought I’d make you breakfast.” He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Er, you and Pepper that is, if she’s home.”
Warmth flooded her heart. Every moment with him revealed the Chance she used to know hadn’t disappeared. He hadn’t lost that thoughtful, sweet side she’d always loved but that he’d only really shown to her and to his mom. The man filling the space in her living room now had balance and was comfortable with himself.
“She’s gone.” Mandy edged toward the hall. “It’s her turn to teach Sunday school, then she’ll stay for church services after.”
“Excellent.” Tension spooled around him and his loosened muscles hardened.
A steady throb pulsed between her legs, responding to his silent demands. “Uh, give me a few minutes.” To brush my teeth and use the bathroom.
“I’ll get started on breakfast.” Chance’s boots clomped as he strode into the kitchen, taking her coffee with him. “Do me a favor and don’t change a thing. I love what you’re…not wearing.”
As she raced through her morning routine, drawers opening and closing, followed by pans hitting the stovetop added a blissful domestic soundtrack. Pausing in front of the mirror, Mandy peeled his shirt over her head and balled it in her fist. Her body had changed over the last twelve years. She didn’t abuse herself with a demented workout like him, or any form of exercise other than the regular exertion that was part of her work. A fullness rounded her curves, setting her apart from the Barbie-bots descending on the garage.
Chance had made no secret he liked what he saw, so she needed to stop fretting. Hunger for him pumped through her veins backing her decision. Dropping the shirt on the counter, she strutted down the hall with nothing but an attitude.
Stopping just inside the kitchen, coldness seeped into the bottoms of her feet from the laminate flooring. Her already hard nipples peaked painfully and the hair rose on her arms. At the stove, Chance glanced over his shoulder, then whirled. The egg slipped from his fingers and burst at his feet.
Lifting her chin, she brazened out his blatant inspection. Dark brown eyes turned almost black as they traced over every inch of her.
“Christ, you are so beautiful.”
Flushing, her toes curled and she s
hifted, not knowing what say.
Whipping his T-shirt off, he tossed it to the side. “Bend over the table,” he ordered, his tone brooking no arguments.
A shiver rocked down her spine and goose bumped her skin. Not hesitating a second, she kicked a pleather chair out of the way and slapped her hands on top the wooden surface.
“Lower,” he demanded.
She dropped to her elbows and twitched her ass.
A low growl emanated from his chest and she grinned. Swiveling her hips again, she bobbed her ass up and down slowly.
Peering over her shoulder, needing to see his reaction, she stilled. Dampness flooded her channel, zinging electricity through her at the sight that greeted her.
Sunlight through the kitchen window caressed the plump muscles in his pecs and highlighted ridged abs only found in fantasies. And apparently on Chance.
Meeting her eyes, he dropped his shorts, the material swishing to pool on top of his boots.
Hol-lee God. No boxers, briefs, or boxer-briefs. Commando. Dear heaven, did he never wear underwear? Had he been free in his coveralls at work? If so, how in the hell did they hold in the exquisite long, hard dick jutting toward her? The dick she missed so much, she ached for it. The dick she remembered filling her so completely she used to beg for more.
It pulsed once, and he grabbed it with his large hand, stroking the length loosely.
A moan curled up her chest and fell from her throat. His bicep and forearm flexed with the movement and his powerful thighs framed the epitome of masculinity.
Her tongue pulsed, wanting to taste him. Wanting to feel that smooth, stretched skin in her mouth. At the back of her throat—
“You will,” he promised as if she’d spoken out loud. “You can suck me until I can’t take anymore, but later.”
Stepping out of his shorts, he prowled toward her, still stroking his cock. “Face forward and spread your legs.”
The raw command sent a jolt of excitement through her center. Resting her forehead on her closed fists, she shifted her feet wider. Cool air from the air-conditioning swept over her, teasing her sopping lower lips and making her ache. Something hit the table next to her elbow, and she peeked to find a condom packet.
“Jesus,” he whispered, as he moved behind her. Smoothing his hands over her ass, he squeezed and molded. “You’re a fantasy.”
Spreading her wide, he smacked her left cheek and she yelped. Surprised, not hurt.
Large, calloused hands stroked up her entire back, burning her skin in their wake. When they reached her shoulder blades, they twisted and blazed toward her throbbing breasts. His cock nestled against the cleft of her ass and she groaned as he bent over her, covering her body with his.
Twelve years she’d gone without his skin against hers, and she now wondered how she’d survived. Nirvana quivered every nerve-ending, soaking in his warmth and hoarding it.
Rough palms scraped over her nipples and he grabbed her breasts, plumping them once before he held their weight.
Whimpering, she lifted her ass along his cock and he stretched his fingers to flick both buds at the same time.
“Do that again,” she demanded hoarsely, grinding her forehead into her fists at the sensations.
“I used to lay awake at night,” he whispered against her ear, twisting her nipples and pulling on the tips, “and remember touching every inch of your amazing body. But until this moment, I didn’t realize how wrong I had gotten it.” Feather light kisses started at her outer earlobe, then moved down the back of her neck. “Your skin is softer and your breasts are so incredible I want to squeeze them together and fuck them.”
A tremor rocked her at his coarse words.
Little licks followed by kisses trailed down her spine and she squirmed beneath the onslaught of pleasure.
“Seeing you bent over—” Little puffs of air from his words heightened the tension. “—your ass in the air, waiting for me to fuck you.” A low sound rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her. “I am going to make you come so hard.”
She was almost there already.
His tongue traced over her right butt cheek and he crouched. Pushing her legs wider with his thighs, he spread her cheeks and licked her from clit to anus.
“Oh God,” she groaned, her bones creaking in her clenched fists.
“So wet,” he growled, licking her again. “So ready for me.”
He stiffened his tongue and inserted it into her opening. “You taste so fucking good.” He dove back in again and again, then grazed her labia.
She froze, so many sensations assaulting her, it wouldn’t take much to—
His mouth latched onto her clit and sucked.
Screaming, she flattened her hands against the table and rocked her hips against his mouth, riding the waves of the orgasm.
He lapped her with long strokes, then flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit so fast, she orgasmed again.
Smashing her head into the wooden table, she slapped the surface, the ecstasy almost painful.
“I need you,” she panted. “In me. Now.”
Lunging upward, he tore open the foil package and had the condom on in seconds. Stroking her with the head of his cock, once, twice, he began to push inside.
“More,” she moaned, her inner walls stretching almost painfully to accommodate his width, but she craved all of it.
Filling her completely, he groaned, bending over her back. “So hot. So wet. So tight.”
“Fuck me, Chance. Hard. Like only you can.”
He grabbed her hips in a bruising grip and did exactly what she asked. His hips pistoned against her, thrusting his dick deep.
Over and over, he slammed home. Stamping her as his. She met his rhythm, claiming him in return.
“Harder.” The tension inside coiled even tighter, a third orgasm just on the other side. “Faster.”
His hips slapped against her ass in a frenetic pace.
Time seemed to stop, then her orgasm surged and she cried out. Wave after wave of ecstasy stole her senses. Chance’s cock prolonged the crest as he continued to thrust wildly, then he shouted and came.
10
Slumping, Mandy smashed her cheek against the cool table and tried to catch her breath. An acrid taste hit the back of her throat and she sniffed. “I think something’s burning.”
“Oh, shit.” Chance yanked himself out and she instantly missed the connection. He leapt to the stove and twisted a dial to shut off the burner. Picking the frying pan up, he laughed and showed her the black lumps. “I don’t think even the squirrels would touch these sausages.”
Chuckling, she shuffled to the kitchen sink. A delicious soreness left her feeling sensitive and hungry to be touched, explored. She contemplated telling him to forget breakfast. Once had not been enough. Grabbing a paper towel off the rack, she went to wet it when she spied the FBI agent’s business card sitting just to the side. It had been tucked in the junk drawer—Chance must have found it when he’d been gathering cooking supplies.
Shoving the paper towel under the running faucet, her mind raced. Quickly cleaning herself up, she handed him the towel which he used to dispose of the condom.
“Will you tell me about it?” he asked quietly, pointing to the card.
“Yes.” Why keep it from him anymore? If they were going to have a relationship, she couldn’t lie or hide it. Giving him another paper towel, she pulled on his shirt. She couldn’t have this conversation naked.
He cleaned the broken egg off the floor, then put his shorts on.
“I’m not sure where to start,” she stated, sitting on a kitchen chair.
“How about when Walter and the bookie entered your life?” He pulled another chair closer to her and sat heavily.
Blowing out a breath, it took her a moment to figure out where to start, then she launched into the tale. She explained about her father’s gambling debt and her discoveries after he died. Every single detail. She held nothing back. Not even Pepper knew this mu
ch, but once Mandy got started, she couldn’t stop.
Chance’s jaw hardened and his eyes fluctuated with emotions—rage, sorrow, shock, and more—but he kept quiet, letting her tell the story at her own pace. God, she’d missed talking to him. He had always been a great listener and shoulder to lean on.
“After Walter’s first visit, I drove to Atlanta and walked into the FBI building,” she continued. A spasm raced through her fingers and she blinked at the warmth encompassing her clammy skin. When had she reached for his hand?
Concentrating on the comfort of his touch, she kept going. “I didn’t have an appointment and my case wasn’t life or death, so it took a while before an agent escorted me to a private interview room. I told Agent Mark Butler what I’ve told you, and he wanted me to be an informant.”
“I take it you turned him down?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I agreed. I didn’t know anything about the bookie or his organization. I only had Walter as a contact, and he made sure to keep me ignorant about his boss so if I ratted him out, someone else could take Walter’s place and be worse. Agent Butler asked if I’d pass on information as I learned it. It didn’t sound particularly dangerous or difficult. Anything I learned from Walter, I’d call Mark and we’d build a file.”
“But?” Chance drew out.
“I had to back out.”
“Why?” His fingers entwined through hers as if offering his strength.
“Walter found out. He shoved pictures of me entering the FBI building into the mailbox at the garage, and then…” She squeezed Chance’s hand, pulling on that strength as fury and fear still haunted her. “…a thug robbed Pepper at gunpoint after her late-night shift. Took her purse and roughed her up while telling her this was just a warning. She didn’t understand, but the minute she told me what the guy had said, I knew he’d been one of the bookie’s men. Walter had warned me he’d go after the ones I love and he made good on that threat. I called Agent Butler, told him I was out, and I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own ever since.”
