I blink harder. In the moonlight, a soft glow lights Mark from the side. His eyes are shadowed, though he peers at me with intent, so focused on the gravity of his own words.
I see so much love coming from him to me. What he’s saying, though, goes beyond love.
“I want to be with you forever.”
All my skin tingles. My legs, stretched across the bed, feel like they’re melting into the world, reaching out for Mark. I reach up with my one good hand and touch his chest. Palm over his heart, I catch the beat and then look up at him.
“Some day, we can talk more about marriage. Kids. The little house and the picket fence and the whole dream.”
My heart explodes.
“But for now,” he says with a smile, his face so full of emotion I think he might explode from the pressure of all the love he is showing me, “we have this. We have today. But Carrie, I want all your todays. I want all your tomorrows. I want all your weeks and months and years. I’m greedy. Will you be greedy right back and take the rest of my life, too?”
So much love is built up inside me that it leaks out in the form of tears. They’re rolling right down my cheeks and landing on my bare breasts. He crawls over me, body hovering, the heat and fire of his long, tight body like all the tomorrows in the flesh.
“Oh, yes, Mark. I’m even greedier. I want more than this lifetime with you.” A massive wave of self-consciousness hits me and I reach up to touch my scalp. The hair is about a quarter of an inch long. I rotate slightly, my shoulder in agony with a simple little twist. I must make a face, because Mark pulls back.
“What’s wrong?”
I’m ruining this moment. My leftover pain from the atrocities of what El Brujo and Frenchie did to me is infecting this one, true moment with Mark.
My tears increase.
“I just, it’s just…look at me!” I am seriously destroying this hot, passionate moment, aren’t I? Oh, my God, but I can’t stop.
“I am looking at you, Carrie. You’re gorgeous.”
I laugh through a mouth and nose full of salty tears. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“I’m saying it because true beauty comes from strength. If I experienced the same injuries you did, would you love me any less?” He strokes the side of my thigh. My skin rises in response, the goosebumps visible in the pale light.
“No! Of course not!”
“Then why would you expect any less of me?”
And with that, his lips cover mine, rendering my response unnecessary. His mouth is sweet and eager, demanding and questioning.
“I love you so much, Carrie,” he murmurs against my mouth, kissing his way down to my neck. “When Allie and Chase told me what was happening I wanted to die from knowing I could rescue you. What you did in that room was unbelievable. You are so much more than I ever realized, and I want to show you that together, we can be invincible. And no one is ever kidnapping you again.” His body tenses. “I can’t believe that happened on my watch.”
“Your ‘watch’?” I laugh into his chest. “I wasn’t some client you were assigned to protect.”
“No. You’re the woman who will be my wife one day. The mother to my children.” He pauses, his body stilling. “You do want kids?”
“Yes. Just…I want to heal first. And get my degree.”
His self-effacing laugh makes me join in. It’s infectious. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“You’re perfect.”
“No, Carrie. You are.”
I’m quivering with anticipation. His words are like a recovery potion, poured into me so my bones can knit from the inside out. If his words were medicine, I’d be healed a thousand times over already.
His mouth covers the hollow at the base of my throat, tongue tickling and teasing the spot, sending shivers of electricity through every corner of my body and mind. I move, my body stretching, muscles filled with the rush of blood that pumps hard to feed my soul.
A long sigh makes me shiver as his mouth travels down, hands on my hips, nipple enveloped by his master tongue. I arch up, then wince, my shoulder howling with pain.
“Go slow,” he urges me. “We’ll go as slow as you need, Carrie. I don’t want to hurt you, and you can stop me any time.”
If certain parts of my body throb any harder they’ll burst. “No stopping. No way,” I hiss. He rumbles with laughter, his mouth on me again, and I relinquish my tension, melting under his attentions.
I only have one hand to touch him. I use it well, closing my eyes and taking in the rippled texture of his back, my mind recalling his tanned skin, the fine lines of cut muscle, the wide strength of his shoulders. The back of his neck is vulnerable under my touch, the transition from skin to silky hair so fine.
His mouth, meanwhile, finds its way to my belly, then down, down, down for a delicious ride. I need this. I need him. Weeks of recovering and of patience fall away like a snake shedding a skin that holds it back, the new one tender and sensitive, yet ready to mature. My craving for Mark goes beyond anything rational.
And as he takes in my pleasure center, the strokes and teases enough to make me see colors behind closed eyelids, I moan with relief and gratitude.
“That’s right,” Mark says, his words vibrating against my inner thigh. “I want to hear that sound. I want to make you feel nothing but pure, divine pleasure right now, Carrie. Let’s wash away all the pain and replace it with something only you and I can create, together.”
And so he starts.
Within seconds, I am coming. The rush of climax doesn’t need time to build, for it has spent so long hiding within me, waiting for this moment to commune with Mark. My orgasm is eager and ready, and it takes over, like a self that lives inside me and steps forward to reveal itself to the world when needed.
I can’t stop bucking against him, my one good hand gripping the sheets so hard I pull them off, my face buried in a pillow I grab as I scream with the cries of a woman who is in the throes of more pleasure than she knew possible, and who just wants more, more, more as Mark gives and gives and gives until I push him away.
Because I still want more, but a different kind of more.
“Come here,” I whisper into the space between us, which shortens to nothing as Mark rises up like a big, powerful being, more animal than man in this moment. His kiss is lustful and claiming. He wants me to taste myself, and his tongue drives between my teeth at the exact moment he drives his shaft into me, entering me with a luscious fluidity and fulfillment that makes me bite his lower lip.
I need to possess him. To taste him. To cling and scratch and bring him into me so deeply we lose the wall between his body and mine. Between his soul and mine.
No divisions. No separations. We are one person, one movement, one climax.
One newly-forged soul.
With a few thrusts he tenses, his mouth now on my earlobe, biting so hard I arch up and clench, my new orgasm so intense I fear I’ll be lost forever. My body grasps him so hard he can barely move, and I tip my hips up to take more of him in. His breath is hot in my ear and I know the split second when he tips, too, from being just Mark to blending with me to become something so much more.
We cry out in ecstasy, in healing, in hope as the waves of all goodness and light surround us. Mark’s body invites me to find myself within him and he within me and we do, his name on my lips and mine in his breath.
As we float back to earth, my blood so hot I’m sweating now, my breath so fevered I’m panting, he strokes the long scratch along my face and narrows his eyes, his chest labored by the exhales of energy spent.
“You’ll have a scar,” he whispers.
I reach back and stroke the white line on his jaw. “We’ll match.”
He grins and rolls to his side, propping his head in his hand, elbow on the mattress. His hair is in wild waves that frame his face, a sheen of sweat on his shoulder a glisten the moonlight shows me.
“We’ll always match. We’re puzzle pieces, you and m
e, Carrie.”
I move just enough for my shoulder to make itself heard, and I flinch.
“Still hurts?”
“Hurts even more, now. That was a workout,” I say, still a little breathless.
“Best kind.” He kisses my cheek.
“Yes.” I’m fading already, so spent. So happy.
So complete.
An old jazz ditty that my dad used to play all the time comes on the radio. It tickles my memory, bringing me back to a time when anything was possible. Before so much pain and suffering and confusion. A time when I was just Carrie and dad was just Joe and Mark was…
Probably fighting for good somewhere.
As the music takes me back it also pins me in place, right here. Mark cuddles up to me, careful about my arm, and flattens his palm against my heart as if he’s assuring it he’s here.
And he is.
Forever.
Thank you for reading Coming Home! Find out what happens next with Drew, Mark’s friend who helped Carrie to escape. He has his own series, with a second-chance romance involving a senator’s daughter, kidnapping, betrayal, and so much more…
You can start here with the first book: A Harmless Little Game.
USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes—and the women who love them.
Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.
She also writes romantic comedy as Julia Kent and is half of the paranormal romance duo, Diana Seere. Check out Meli’s books at www.meliraine.com.
Join Meli’s New Releases and Sales newsletter at: eepurl.com/beV0gf.
Blindsided
by Gwen Hernandez
Blindsided
Men of Steele
A fake fiancé. A deadly boss. A second chance at love.
To rescue her sister from human traffickers, charter pilot Caitlyn Brevard must appear at her employer’s gala event with a fiancé she concocted to keep his lecherous son at bay. Can she convince Kurt Steele to forgive a past betrayal and play the doting groom-to-be?
Former special operator and wounded warrior Kurt can’t say no to a friend in need, especially not Caitlyn. But playing ardent fiancé to the woman who broke his heart—and still attracts him like no other—might just be more than he can bear. When their mission turns deadly, he and Caitlyn risk everything to save her sister and get a second chance at a love worth dying for.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Want More?
Chapter One
Bethesda, MD
Friday, 7:00 a.m.
Valerie Sanchez summoned her most dazzling smile and prepared to lie through her teeth. She unzipped her long wool coat as she approached the Westgate Defense Systems security desk before the early crowd of employees arrived.
“Hi, there. It’s my boyfriend Brian’s thirtieth birthday today, and I’d like to decorate his cubicle before he arrives.” She tugged the bouquet of Star Wars–themed helium balloons she had picked up that morning, making the shiny Darth Vader and R2D2 bounce.
The security guard, his badge pinned proudly to his chest, glanced around the empty lobby and swallowed. “I’d like to help you, ma’am, but I can’t let in anyone without an employee ID or visitor’s pass. Your boyfriend would have to vouch for you.”
“That would kind of give away the surprise, wouldn’t it?” she asked, her grin cheeky. “But, I understand.” Resting her free elbow on the counter, she leaned forward enough to give the man a glimpse of her already ample, plumped-to-the-max cleavage.
When his eyes strayed to the shiny little charm sewn to the front of her bra, she asked, “What if you escorted me?”
He snapped to attention, raising his eyes to meet her gaze, and cleared his throat. “I can’t leave my post. Not until the other guy shows up.” He checked his oversized sport watch. “And even then, you’d need someone to sign you in.”
Based on her previous surveillance, she was ninety-nine percent positive the other guard wouldn’t arrive for at least ten more minutes. Her partner Jay had pegged this one as more vulnerable and figured if she could get him alone, he’d be more susceptible to her “wiles.”
“I could be your guest,” she said, pushing the red-framed prop glasses onto the bridge of her nose.
His eyes widened. “But I don’t know you.”
“Well, let’s change that.” She held out her hand and smiled. “I’m Vanessa Rios.”
His face reddened all the way up to the roots of his receding brown hair. For a full five seconds, he didn’t respond. Then he grasped her hand in his own thick, clammy one. “John Watkins.”
She resisted the instinct to slide her palm against his. If she laid on the sex appeal too thick, he’d question her devotion to Brian, the programmer whose computer had access to the entire network at Westgate. A man she’d never met.
“Nice to meet you, John. I work in human resources at Farmington International. That’s where I met Brian before he got the job here. We’ve been dating for about two years.” She raised her eyes in thought. “Let’s see, what else? I’m a Libra, my friends call me Van even though I hate it, I have a sister, two cats, and a small apartment in Georgetown. I love living in D.C., but hate the traffic, and someday I want to do something important that changes the world for the better.”
He was giving her a funny look, but she was pretty sure she had him. “Or would it be easier if I just showed you some ID?”
A small part of her almost hoped he wouldn’t give in. As much as she wanted her pretext to work, this guy would be in big trouble if she succeeded. And he seemed nice.
Then again, if he wasn’t doing his job properly…
John chuckled and shook his head. “If you can wait until my partner shows, I’ll take you up.”
She glanced at her watch. “Unfortunately, I can’t. I have to leave for work in the next five minutes or I’m going to be late.” Frowning, she asked, “You know what? When your other half gets here, can you put this stuff on Brian’s desk for me? I was going to really do it up”—she placed a sack of streamers, banners, and party favors on the desk—“but the balloons will have to do. Oh! And don’t forget the cupcakes.”
Popping the lid on the Tupperware full of chocolate cupcakes with colorful confetti candy on top, she pulled out two and leaned over the counter to set them on John’s workspace. “One for each of you.”
The guard laughed outright and shook his head. “You’re something else, Van.” He glanced around the empty lobby, chewed on his lip, and stewed for several seconds before nodding. “All right, surrender your ID and I’ll give you five minutes.”
“Oh, my God, thank you.” She flashed him a smile as she laid her jacket and scarf over a nearby chair. Then she traded the fake license for a clip-on visitor’s badge, grabbed the party supplies, and turned for the elevators. “I’ll be quick.”
“I’ll be watching.” He pointed to the TV monitors.
Heart pounding, Valerie had to keep herself from running across the gleaming white marble. Not that she could have run in her
heels anyway. She didn’t have enough practice wearing them, and they were pinching her toes. A minute later, she emerged onto the third floor and made her way along a row of blue cloth cubicles. Based on the map Jay had found God-knew-where, Brian’s desk was the fourth one on the right.
The entire space was eerily hushed, with no sound but the faint hum of fluorescent light bulbs and the whoosh of warm air coming from vents overhead.
She glanced up at the camera stationed on the ceiling behind Brian’s cubicle and waved. Then she clipped the balloons to the desk, casually positioning them to block the camera’s view of the computer. Draping streamers with one hand, she leaned over the keyboard, giving the guard a shot of her ass. She let her dress ride up as she used her other hand to snap a tiny gadget into a slot on the back of the computer.
Quickly, she finished decorating the small workspace and hightailed it to the lobby. “Thanks so much. I really appreciate this, John,” she said, smiling as she returned the badge for the license and donned her winter armor.
“Brian’s a lucky guy,” he murmured as she walked toward the tall glass-encased exit.
If he only knew. She gave the guard a little wave and forced herself to stroll nonchalantly into the cold.
Two hours after her little show for the Westgate guard, Valerie popped a few Skittles in her mouth and checked the time. Not-really-birthday-boy Brian was late logging into his computer. If she and Jay could crack Westgate, maybe her boss would finally let her work in the field with one of the covert ops teams.
The terrorist hunters—mostly buff, stoic, former military guys oozing swagger—often took along a computer specialist to monitor and control the target’s computer systems and perimeter alarms, allowing Aggressor International’s “wet work” guys to sneak up on the terrorists. Valerie had volunteered, but Duncan Hollowell had shut her down.
Dangerous To Love Page 206
