Protecting His Pregnant Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune Book 1)

by Leslie North

  I don’t want to fall in love with you. The words sprang into Olive’s mind again, and she clung to them even as Levon turned her around and tipped her mouth to his. She clutched the cotton material of his t-shirt, and felt the heat of him radiating through her robe to her chilled skin beneath.

  God, she didn’t want to love Levon. Not when he’d be leaving again after his mission was through—not when he could never possibly love her back. No. She didn’t want to fall in love.

  But she was really worried that it might already be too late.

  He dragged his lips over hers, once, twice, before deepening the kiss. She slipped her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoes, needing more, needing to stoke his hunger, needing to know it matched her own. Without it, she would go crazy. The tingling thrills his soft moans sent hurtling through her made it impossible to think. It was like she was adrift in this room’s tiny galaxy and made entirely of shooting stars.

  His palm slid down her spine to the small of her back, pressing her more firmly against him so she could feel the full extent of his arousal. Now it was Olive’s turn to groan. His sudden acceptance of it all—his protective hands, his clear feeling of wonder and joint ownership—lit a fire in her. When she parted her lips beneath his, he took full advantage.

  There was no thinking straight when Levon was kissing her. Everything disappeared except for his touch, his taste, his scent. Then his fingers moved around to unknot the belt of her robe and the plush terry cloth fell away as Levon wrapped her in his arms and carried her over to the bed.

  She couldn’t get enough of him, craved skin on skin. She worked her hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt and tugged it over his head. Next came the fly of his jeans. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears as she unbuttoned and unzipped them, then he was gone, shucking the rest of his clothes before joining her again on the bed. At last they were both naked, warm and aroused and wrapped in each other’s embrace. She wanted to kiss him all over, wanted to lick every inch of him, wanted to burrow inside him and never come out again…

  “Olive.” Her name sounded like a blessing and curse on his lips as she reached down and took his cock in her hand. So hot, so hard, so hers. Olive shivered with the force of possessiveness coursing through her like wildfire. He gently moved her hand away, pinning it to the mattress beside her head as he stretched out beside her so he didn’t squash the baby. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he said against her temple. “If you touch me like that now, it’ll all be over, and I want to take my time tonight.”

  “Okay,” she squeaked out, snuggling against him. Long and slow sounded divine to her too. “We take our time.”

  “Good.” He kissed her cheek, her forehead, the corner of her mouth, all the while stroking his hands over her almost reverently. “Now stop thinking.”

  For once, she was all too eager to listen to that particular piece of advice. He grasped her hips and turned her around, pulling her up onto her hands and knees and positioning himself behind her in the bed. Her inability to see what was going on behind her drove her wild with anticipation. All she could do in that moment was feel him: his hands skimming up her shoulders, and then down again; his hot breath gusting across the hypersensitive skin of her neck...

  “Spread your legs for me,” he whispered. Olive gasped, turning in to that whisper to receive a kiss. She parted her thighs obediently, and Levon stroked her wet folds, his thumb circling her swollen clit several times, until she cried out with want. She needed him. Now. Would die without him. Then his hard cock nudged her slick entrance before sliding into her.

  “Ohhh.” Olive arched like a cat and he wrapped her in his arms, moving within her, slowly, relentlessly. He held all the power here, yet seemed powerless to stop himself from nuzzling her, whispering how amazing her body felt around his, kissing her shoulders, her neck, her mouth, wherever he could reach. She cried out again, wordlessly pleading for more. “God, Levon.”

  “Last night was good, but it’s been killing me. I needed to be inside you again like this.” He thrust into her again, his breathing labored, and nipped her earlobe. Hard enough for her to feel it, but not hard enough to hurt. “You’ve always done this to me, Olive. Ever since high school. The amount of time I had to spend in the shower so I could have a little privacy while I thought of you...”

  The thought of him fantasizing about her, making himself come to thoughts of her, nearly had her climaxing herself. She’d always wanted him like this too, but had never thought he’d want her back. To find out he did now was…

  Levon picked up the pace, pulling her hips back against him to deepen each questing plunge. Olive thought she would scream her throat raw with begging. She couldn’t help herself. She was losing her mind; her intellect, the one thing she had always prided herself on, was gone now that she was back here locked in his arms...

  Orgasm took her by surprise. It had been building since their first kiss here in their secret, sapphire room. She was undone with a darted flick of his tongue to the back of her ear, and writhed in his arms as wave after wave rolled through her. She didn’t know if she was forming words at this point, and she didn’t care—all she wanted was this feeling, this ecstasy, to last forever. When she finally settled back down to earth, she turned in toward him, panting, as his hold on her tightened, and a helpless groan ripped from him as he came hard inside her as shockwaves of their incredible sex still coursed through her.

  Afterward, sated and sleepy, they lay in each other’s arms, enjoying the afterglow.

  “Guess the light’s a hit,” Levon joked, his chuckle rumbling beneath her ear as Olive rested her head on his chest, over his heart. She snuggled in close, careless of their sweaty, tangled limbs, their plastered hair, and the mess they’d made. She completely dismissed the fact that the end result of her luxury bath had, ultimately, been undone.

  All she cared about was that moment.

  All she cared about was the baby and Levon.

  12

  “Sorry, dude,” Clint said, over the phone line. “That SIM card was pretty much destroyed from sitting in the water so long. All I managed to get were the few phone numbers and call logs I sent to you.”

  “Okay.” Levon scrubbed a hand over his face and stared out across the faculty parking lot from his position behind one of storage buildings, out of sight of the rest of the campus. He’d been hoping for some kind of lead from that SIM card, but the only thing it had done was confirm what he already knew. The numbers and call logs Clint had salvaged had been traced to cell numbers belonging to Colin Wilson and Franklin Monroe. So basically he was right where he’d started. “What about the security footage from the school? Anything new there?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Clint said, pulling the phone away from his mouth while he talked to Noah offline, then coming back on again. “Yeah. That kid you mentioned. Franklin? He’s all over it. Check your email, should be coming through now.”

  Levon held the device away from his ear and pressed the button to open his mail app. Sure enough, the video clip opened on a grainy image of the dark-haired senior selling what appeared to be drugs on a street corner near the mall in Harper’s Forge.

  Shit. Just shit.

  He’d been hoping he’d been wrong. Worse, he’d been hoping he’d never have to tell Olive her favorite kid had already crossed over to the wrong side of the law. Dammit.

  “You get it okay?” Clint asked over the phone line.

  “Yeah, I got it. Thanks.” Levon raked a hand through his hair, agitated and on edge. Cars were starting to pull into the lot and he moved farther back into the shadows to avoid detection. He’d forgotten about the stupid parent-teacher conferences tonight. That would mean Olive would be here at school later than usual. A part of him was glad, since it would give him more time to figure out how to tell her about Franklin. “Listen, I need to go. I’ll call you later when I know more about what the Reapers are planning here. Stay safe.”

  “You, too. Stay safe, dude,” Clint said, ha
nging up after their usual SSoF sign-off.

  For a long moment, Levon just stood there, hoping the breezy sunshine might wash away the growing dread within him, but unfortunately life wasn’t that simple.

  Wasn’t as simple as lying in bed at night with Olive either, though he wished it were.

  When he was with her, he felt like a different man. Not a SEAL or a stupid kid with dyslexia or even a Southern Soldier of Fortune. When he was with Olive, he felt like the superhero she always teased him about being. Like he could scale any mountain, conquer any foe.

  Except right now, he was battling his own past and his own demons.

  He’d never expected to feel this way about anyone, and damn if it didn’t have him twisted seven ways from Sunday. He loved Olive Owen. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but didn’t see a way to do that. Not with his job in Arlington and her life here in Harper’s Forge. He’d never ask her to give up what she loved any more than she would him.

  And probably, she didn’t even love him anyway. Why should she?

  She was a star, like the ones he’d projected up on the ceiling last night. She could have anyone, do anything. She was the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman he’d ever known. She deserved so much better than him. So did their baby. If their kid was lucky, they’d take after Olive.

  He kicked a rock across the dirt with the toe of his black boot. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know how to be a dad. His own parents had been pretty great, but that didn’t mean it transferred to him. Man, he wished they were still around so he could talk to them about this, but they were gone, killed in a fire at the farm shortly after he’d joined the Navy.

  Another scar from his past. Another failure to add to a long line of them.

  Maybe if he’d been here, he could’ve saved them. Maybe…

  Aw shit.

  He strode off from behind the storage building and headed for his truck across the parking lot. Work had ended an hour ago and he needed to get out of here, needed some time and space to sort through his feelings as well as figure out how he was going to handle the whole situation with Olive.

  He loved her, yes. But sometimes love wasn’t enough, even though he wished with all his heart it was.

  13

  There was one school invasion worse than any organized criminal ring: and that was parent-teacher conferences.

  Usually. Today, Olive found she didn’t mind them so much. She was still on cloud nine after her night spent with Levon. For the first time since their reunion seven months ago, she felt like she really understood him, had really connected with him, and it had changed everything for her. Olive had never been a one-night stand kind of girl, but she had said everything she thought Levon wanted to hear: no feelings, no attachment, no strings. Just good, filthy fun. And in her defense, she had really thought she could pull it off. It was the whole reason she’d come to the reunion: to prove that she’d grown past her shy, nerdy teenage self and was now a woman capable of catching Levon Asher’s attention…at least for a night. It hadn’t occurred to her that “more” was even an option, and she certainly hadn’t thought about possible consequences.

  But now here they were. Reunited. Having a baby. And…together? Maybe?

  As she met with her students’ parents, Olive couldn’t resist letting her thoughts drift. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about these conversations, or about updating the families on the progress of their kids. It was seeing the family dynamic in a new light that kept distracting her with flights of fancy.

  Was it possible? Could this be her and Levon? Last night had shed a new light on their relationship, both figuratively and literally, and Olive wouldn’t be Olive if she didn’t examine what had happened from every angle. Could she have made herself ignorant of the possibilities before on purpose? Maybe she was more afraid of making herself vulnerable, of getting hurt, than she could comfortably admit to.

  But with Levon… things were different. He didn’t see her brain as something that detracted from her appeal. She had seen that glazed-over look come into men’s faces enough times to know that it was wiser to shut up about her passions and interests.

  But being with Levon, Olive felt like she had just been introduced to another way of living—one she had never thought possible outside of a fairytale or romance novel. Here was a man, the father of her child, who listened to her intently—who seemed invigorated when she got excited, the same way his excitement and focus inspired her.

  Speaking to all these parents had suddenly become a warm and fuzzy experience. Stop the presses, Olive thought, smiling despite herself, as another duo sat down in front of her. She drew out Colin Wilson’s folder; seeing the name, she almost frowned. But she held it together. Colin Wilson was one of the first students she had assisted Levon in identifying coming out of the hideout, repeatedly. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?” She drummed her fingers on the file. “Before we get into it, I wanted to ask you about Colin—”

  “Isn’t that our job? To find out how he’s doing from you?” his mother asked imperiously. The father had his eyes turned down to his lap and was scrolling through his phone.

  For the first time that evening, Olive had to reach for her reserve of patience. Oh well, it had been bound to happen eventually. “Yes, but what I’m interested to know is if you’ve noticed any behavioral changes with Colin—”

  “Our son has never been a stellar student.” His mother raised a challenging brow, as if daring Olive to flunk him. “But he’ll apply himself to other things.”

  “Kid should just drop out and get on with it,” said the man beside her. He wasn’t Colin’s father—the file said that the father lived two states over. Who was this, then? A stepfather, maybe, or boyfriend? That had to be difficult…

  “Mr. and Mrs.—I mean—” Olive tried to begin again. Maybe if she could just explain it to them better—even hint at the danger—

  “Look, is this going to take much longer?” Colin’s mother crossed her arms, her expression sour. “If you want us to find out about our son, then shouldn’t we be getting home to him?”

  Chances are you aren’t going to find him at home. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them as much as they rose and left. But she kept the warning to herself, and wondered if her silence didn’t make her somehow complicit in the awful goings-on. What would Levon do…?

  Or maybe a better question: how would the old Olive deal with this, without Levon’s guidance? She was the teacher, after all. She was the one close to these kids, the one with a responsibility to them.

  Her next set of parents weren’t much improved in their attitude—and their child, too, Olive had identified coming out of the locked, unmarked door beside the arcade. Their meeting concluded even more quickly than the one before it. The bad taste in her mouth started to turn even more bitter.

  Elise Grisham was next. An undernourished woman with nervous, bird-like movements, she was the young single mother of Lani Grisham, one of the few female students Olive had helped Levon identify hanging around the Reapers. The baby chose that moment to kick.

  “Elise, can I interest you in a cup of coffee?” Maybe that wasn’t the best overture to make, considering the other woman’s clearly frazzled state. “Maybe a cup of tea?”

  “Tea would be nice, thank you, Olive.” Olive rose to attend to her guest. She was aware of Elise’s eyes following her. “How is the baby?” Elise inquired.

  Olive turned to pour the hot water and hid her frown. “The baby? Oh, she’s doing great. Thanks for asking.”

  My baby may be fine, but what about yours?

  She wanted to kick herself for thinking it. She pinned her tongue between her teeth, and carried the cup of tea over for Elise, who nodded gratefully as Olive drew up a chair and sat down beside her.

  Olive swallowed. Tapped her desktop with the lid of her pen in deliberation. Then she leaned in. “Elise, there’s something you should know about some suspected activity going on at our school…”

&n
bsp; 14

  Once the parent-teacher conferences were finally done, along with the staff meeting that followed them, Olive was finally able to head back to her classroom to grab her things before she headed home for the night. She felt tired and cranky and like her feet had become the size of two watermelons. What she wouldn’t give for a foot massage right about now. She was imagining settling in on the sofa with Levon later when she rounded the corner and stopped short.

  Shattered glass twinkled on the floor beneath the overhead lights and her heart plummeted. A quick glance through the door showed broken chairs and overturned tables. This wasn’t her classroom. This was a crime scene.

  Olive leaned against the doorframe, careful not to step on the sharp glass, and gripped the wall, too shocked to give over to the tremors that seemed to be starting just below the surface.

  Her classroom was trashed. And at the center of it all, her microscope—the one the school had dedicated to her, attaching a little plaque with her name when she’d come back as a teacher—was smashed to pieces, its jagged remains scattered dangerously over every square inch of the lab. She couldn’t even begin to fathom this senseless violence.

  Maybe not senseless, a small voice warned as she picked her way to the center of the debris. Maybe it was calculated.

  Clearly this had taken place during the staff meeting—or had it taken place because of her time at the staff meeting? Whoever did this, had they known she would be only steps away from discovering what they had done? Or was this a warning to keep her mouth shut?

  A conspicuous piece of paper taped to the chalkboard answered that question for her.