Edge of Forever

by Jacob Chance

  “He may have a point,” Georgia suggests. “We can’t all just drop off the face of the earth. We don’t have a no call, no show kind of job. Come Monday, people will take notice if none of us show up to work.”

  “Exactly,” Nash agrees emphatically.

  “Relax, Chachi. You three idiots can do as you please, but Georgie stays with me.”

  Nash looks to Georgia for a different response, as if we’re not going to be on the same page.

  Of course, he doesn’t get one.

  “I’m with him.” Georgia leans in even closer to me and wraps an arm through my elbow.

  “People will take notice if you stop coming to work. After all that’s happened around you, there are eyes on you. What about Dr. Morrisey? She will definitely be looking for you.” Nash makes a good point. But I still don’t trust any of them.

  “I’ve got an idea about that,” Georgia mentions. “I can meet with her first thing Monday morning and explain what a difficult time I’m having. I’ll say I feel as though I came back to work too soon.”

  “She’ll have to recommend mandatory time off.” Nash's eyes light up.

  “That settles it then. Georgia will be with me, and you three can go try yanking on your chain of command.” I step out into the hallway with Georgia on my arm and Mikey following close behind us.

  “What will you do?” Nash stops the door from closing between us.

  “Whatever needs doing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Georgia

  “What is that heavenly smell?” Belfast calls out as he enters the kitchen. All the moisture in my mouth dries up and my lower jaw goes slack when I turn from the stove to face him. He’s naked from the waist up and his lower body is wrapped in a damp towel. Droplets from his hair fall to his chest, painting clear rivulets down his stomach. I’m tempted to slowly lick them downward and fall to my knees in front of him.

  He snaps his fingers a few times. “Georgie, anyone in there?” He smiles crookedly, cocking his head. “Like what you’re seeing, darling?”

  I clear my throat. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just standing here making spaghetti with meat sauce.” I don’t know why I’m not admitting how gorgeous I find him. It’s not like he doesn’t know.

  “Is that so?” He struts toward me, his cockiness blatantly on display, and my fingers itch to tug his towel free. But we had a busy day and we need to refuel. Later there will be time for exploring his ripped physique.

  “Hands or tongue?” I ask, messing with him.

  He lifts a thick brow. “Hmm, I’m not sure where this is going, but it sure sounds promising. Although, I like the sound of both, I’m not an eejit. I’ll choose tongue every time.”

  “Okay.” I nod.

  “Wait a minute. What do I get?”

  “You look sexy in your towel—“

  He interrupts me, “I knew you were ogling the goods, luv.”

  “Whatever.” I wave my hand dismissively. “As I was saying, you look hot and I want you.”

  He grins, gesturing to the now bulging towel. “When it comes to you, Georgie, I’m ready to go twenty-four seven. I’m popping boners non-stop, like a wet behind the ears teenager.” He stretches both his arms out wide. “What are we waiting for?”

  “We’re going to eat dinner first. I cooked for you and I’m not letting it go to waste. Besides, we haven’t eaten since this morning and I’m starving.”

  “As much as I want to eat your food, I’d rather eat you.”

  Oh my.

  I barely resist the urge to fan myself. And thinking about what he can do with his tongue has me ready to accept his offer. But there’ll be time for that when we go to bed.

  “I’m going on record here that I like your idea very much. However, it will have to wait until dinner is done.” Making him hold off is good for him. It’s an exercise in restraint and character building.

  Besides, I can’t be putty every time he talks dirty or his irresistible smile shines in my direction. He can’t have his way all the time. That would set a bad precedent for our relationship. He’s stubborn, but so am I.

  Hands on his hips he studies me before nodding. “Let me get dressed, and then I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

  I need an orgasm. Does that count?

  “Sounds good.” I’m not sure how I find enough composure to speak normally and to not beg him to put me out of my misery. My plan to test him has failed miserably, and all I’ve accomplished is getting myself worked up. So much for my teaching moment. I just got schooled on how little control I have over my libido when it comes to Belfast.

  Needing a distraction, I set to work straining the pasta, and then remove the garlic bread from the oven. Giving the sauce a final stir, I place two plates and silverware on the table.

  “I can’t wait to dig in. I hope it’s good so I can keep you.” He winks.

  “If you don’t like it I can always save it for Sam,” I retort.

  “Yeah, we know he’s interested in more than your cooking.” He sounds jealous.

  I smile. I don’t know why I find that inordinately pleasing, but I do. “Sam’s a good guy.”

  “Good guys finish last, Georgie. That’s why I’m here instead of him. Every woman wants a bad guy that they can to try and tame.”

  “Is that what you think I’ll do, try to tame you?”

  “The thing is, Georgie, you’re the only one who could.”

  “I don't want to change you. I love your crazy ass just the way it is.”

  “Aww, luv.” He presses a fist to his heart. “I love you too.”

  “Let’s eat.” I place two bottles of water on the round table and we sit down next to each other.

  Belfast dishes out a heaping portion of pasta on both our plates and swirls some sauce on top. “Would you like garlic bread?”

  “Yes, please.” I’m so hungry I’m practically squirming on the seat in anticipation. I grab the piece of fresh-from-the-oven garlic bread and tear off a chunk with my teeth. I sigh with appreciation as I chew. I don’t care that it’s too hot and when I swallow it down it burns a fiery path along my esophagus. It still sure as hell hits the spot.

  We dig in without hesitation, and while I eat, I reprocess everything that’s happened today. I’m so relieved my friends had nothing to do with all the horrible things that have happened.

  “What are those wheels turning for?” Belfast interrupts.

  “I was thinking how awesome it is that Nash, Zoe, and Sam are innocent in all this.”

  “I bet. I’m happy that’s the case. You would’ve been hurt if they were involved, and then I would’ve had to kill them painstakingly slowly.”

  My eyes flick over to him to see if he’s serious.

  “What? Do you think I’m kidding?”

  I shake my head. I guess that answers my question.

  “Mark my words, luv, anyone who hurts you in any way places a massive target on their back. And we know how good my aim is.” He grins proudly.

  As much as his words should be disturbing, I find them kind of arousing. His caveman attitude is growing on me more each day. I like knowing that he loves me enough to protect me no matter what.

  As an agent, I’m used to protecting myself, and I’m inordinately proud that I can. But there’s something to be said for being with someone you trust implicitly with your life.

  This is the first time I’ve experienced that kind of confidence in a man, and it’s a heady feeling, knowing that my safety comes above all others—even his own. And I’ve seen him in action enough times to know this as a fact.

  Belfast is the kind of guy who gets shit done. He’s the guy who handles the things that most people can’t or won’t. And he doesn’t complain about it once he’s done. He just tucks it away in some dark corner of his mind and moves on.

  I admire that about him. Immensely.

  If his life was made into a story, he may not be considered a hero by most, but he’s my hero. And I
wouldn’t choose anyone else to step into a gunfight with by my side.

  When my plate is cleared of all food, I sink back in my chair and pat my stomach, letting loose a contented groan.

  “This is so good, I’m about to have more,” Belfast states, rising.

  Watching as he walks to the stove, I admire his backside, moving up to the broad cut of his shoulders, and ending on the thick, darkness of his hair. He may not be who I pictured myself falling in love with, but he’s everything I could want and more.

  “Do you still have family in Ireland?” I ask when he heads back toward the table.

  “Aye.” He sits, placing his plate down and begins to eat.

  “A lot?”

  His eyes rise from his plate to lock on mine. “I’m not short on relatives, Georgie.”

  “Do you keep in touch with them?”

  “Oh yeah, we have Zoom parties all the time.” His sarcasm is thick, and I remain silent as he devours his second helping. When he’s had enough, he pushes the plate away.

  “I was being serious when I asked about your family. I want to know more about you.”

  He places his hand on top of mine. “I don’t talk to my family often. With the time change and how busy work usually keeps me…” he trails off with a shrug.

  “Have you been back to Ireland since you moved here?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “How long has it been since you visited?”

  “Ten years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “Aye. It is and it isn’t.” His thumb caresses the back of my hand.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ten years seems like a lot when you think about it as a whole. But when you look back ten years, you realize how quickly time actually passes.”

  “That’s true. And the older I am, the faster it seems to pass. Do you think you might want to go back home for a visit anytime soon?”

  “Is this your way of getting me to invite you?”

  “What? No,” I sputter. “I’m merely curious.”

  He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m joking, luv. If you remember, when we were at the beach house I told you I’d take you to Ireland. And I meant it.”

  “Then I can’t wait to meet your family.”

  “Who said anything about meeting my family? I’m not letting my good-looking cousins within ten feet of you.”

  Standing, I move over and slide a leg over him until I’m straddling his lap. My fingers thread through his hair as I stare into his fiery gaze. “How good looking are we talking?”

  He growls under his breath, and I giggle.

  “Be careful, luv. Once you wind me up, there’s no stopping me.”

  “Do they look like you?” I prod, barely restraining the smile itching my lips.

  He jumps to his feet, taking me with him. His hands cup my ass, squeezing hard as he stalks toward the bedroom we slept in last night. I don’t think he has any sleeping in mind with the way his thick cock is pressing against me.

  I practically purr like a contented cat, knowing that I’m about to get what I wanted. I’ve been wound up ever since I saw him go apeshit on Sam. I’ve never gotten turned on by violence before, but Belfast looked so badass doling out the punishment. Maybe I’m acquiring weird fetishes.

  He tosses me on the bed and leaps on top of me, crashing his lips to mine. His knee parts my thighs and his hips slip between them. He grinds his cock against my clit just right, and then his hand delves inside my yoga pants and thong.

  “Feck, you’re so wet,” he whispers against my mouth, trailing his fingers through my slit before thrusting two inside me.

  I moan and beg for more, “Please.” I rock my clit against the heel of his palm as his fingers curl inside me, working their magic. My hands grip his shoulders and my head arches back as I quickly unravel from his touch.

  He already knows how to work my body over and wring every bit of pleasure from me. No one has ever made me feel this way. And maybe it’s because no one else has ever captured my heart like he has. Whatever the reason, I never want it to end.

  He licks his fingers clean and shoots me a wolfish grin. Pushing his sweatpants down, he kicks them free, and then hastily strips my clothing from me.

  The broad head of his cock teases my entrance before thrusting inside to the hilt. He pauses, closing his eyes, as if he’s fighting for control. When his lids raise, his brown irises look like molten chocolate.

  Rolling to his back, he keeps us connected. He cups my tits, his palms grazing my taut nipples. “Ride me, luv. I want you to make me come.”

  I like this idea.

  I roll and grind my pussy along his length until his teeth are so tightly clenched that the veins and tendons in his neck are popping out under his skin.

  His hands grip my hips, guiding me faster and harder as he bucks upward, fucking me from the bottom. A few more quick strokes and he’s groaning my name, making me feel like a freaking sex kitten.

  His breath is ragged on his next few exhales. “Wow,” he whispers with awe. His fingers release their hold on my hips. He slides his palms up and down my spine in long, leisurely caresses as his eyes drink me in. “You’re fecking perfect. There isn't one part of you I’d change.”

  Basking in his compliments like a cat being stroked behind the ears, I practically purr with pleasure.

  He rolls us to our sides, and we stare at each other, both of us in awe of our intense lovemaking.

  He gently drags his knuckles across my cheek. “I love you, Georgia, and I’m never going to stop.”

  No matter how many times he says those words to me, it’ll never get old, or stop feeling like a punch to my solar plexus.

  “You better not stop.”

  “Never,” he promises vehemently.

  “Good, because I don’t plan on letting you go ever again.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belfast

  Tearing the covers from Georgia, I slap her ass to wake her.

  “Hey.” She groans into her pillow.

  “Come on, sunshine. I’ve got plans for you.”

  “Why can’t your plans involve sleeping in or cuddling in bed all day?” She sounds annoyed.

  “Because we’re getting out of here for some fresh air. You need a break and I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Just tell me,” she demands, and I slap her ass again.

  “Nope. Get up before I have to drag you out of bed.”

  “You could always join me.” She rolls to her back with a teasing smile and tempts me with her alluring, naked body. She parts her thighs, and my dick reacts. I war with myself and look away before I give in and join her. This is a battle I won’t lose. Georgia needs a break from all the stress she’s been under, and I’m going to give it to her. And later I’m gonna give her what we both want.

  “Get your arse out of bed, naughty girl. I’m not biting—at least not now.”

  She sits up on the mattress, pushing her tousled brown waves back from her face. “What should I wear?”

  “Something comfortable.”

  “Pajamas?”

  “Only if you want to be seen in public wearing them.”

  “At this point, I don’t think I’d care. I’m so freaking tired.”

  “Aw, luv, did I wear you out last night? Not bad for an old dude.” I flex my biceps.

  “I need a shower before I go anywhere. Maybe it will help wake me up.”

  “Do what you need to. I’m ready to go whenever.”

  Taking her hand, I lead her along the city sidewalk, then steer her toward a business.

  “Canvas Tattoo Shop,” she reads the sign out loud. “What are we doing here? Are you getting a tattoo?”

  I open the door, placing a palm on her back, guiding her inside. “Have some patience, luv.”

  “Hi, I’m Tatum. Welcome to Canvas. How can I help you?”

&nb
sp; “I’m Brennan and this is Georgia. We have an appointment with Josh.”

  Tatum smiles. “Sure. Let me go check and see if he’s ready for you.” She steps out from behind the counter and disappears around the corner.

  “What’s going on?” Georgia, my ever curious girl, questions.

  “I’m getting a tattoo.”

  “You are?”

  “Yep. And I was thinking you might like one too.”

  “How come you’ve never gotten one before?”

  “Because tattoos are identifying marks.”

  She throws her arms up. “Then why would you get one now?”

  “Because I’ve found something worthy of marking my body with.” Georgia and I haven’t had much chance to talk about what the future might bring, but I’m aware that if I want Georgia in my life, I’m going to have to make some big lifestyle changes. And if I do that, identifying marks should no longer be a concern.

  She wanders around the room, looking at various images of flash tattoos.

  “Check out the albums on the coffee table. If you see something you like, Josh can customize it so it’s more original,” I explain.

  “How did you know about this place?” she inquires.

  “His older brother, Jameson, is a member of The Bastards. He has some insanely good tattoos, and most of them have been done by Josh. I dropped him a text yesterday promising him one of my best bottles of Irish whiskey if he could get us in here today.”

  “You have some interesting friends,” she comments.

  “And deep pockets. I also promised I’d make it financially worthwhile for Josh.”

  “So, in other words you're paying four times the price you could’ve if you made an appointment and waited?”

  “Maybe. But we wouldn’t be here doing something different or having the best tattoo artist in the area working on us.”

  “The us is still up in the air. I’m undecided for now,” Georgia states.

  The sound of boots on the floor has me turning around to find a younger, more clean-cut version of Jameson walking toward me. “Hey, I’m Brennan.”