by Amy Jarecki
“But I want you to...”
“Together, remember?” He brushed a finger over her lips. “Are you ready to take me?”
Yeah, all she needed to do was gaze into those crystal blues and she was ready to come again. Henri kneeled across him, her breath ragged. Mike grasped her shoulders and stared for a moment, his gaze raking up and down her body as if memorizing every curve. “Perfection.” He cupped her breasts and suckled each nipple. She thrust her hips forward, unable to quell the yearning as it mounted low in her belly. Rubbing herself along his cock, she made him slick with her moisture.
“I want you,” she whispered. Never in her life had she been so incredibly hot, so deeply in love, so connected with another human being. Mike ran his hands up her spine and lifted her slightly. He shifted his cock between her legs and slid in just a little bit. Henri threw her head back as the light friction threatened to take her over the top.
Her lower half on fire, her breasts swelling with desire, she eased herself over him. “Take me.”
Totally hard, unbelievably buff, Mike pulled out as he rolled Henri to her back, kissing her like she’d never been kissed. His tongue explored her mouth, demanding more. His lips trailed down to her neck and she cried out when he again took her nipples into his mouth. Down her body his kisses fluttered, her back arched and she reached for him when he stopped at her belly button. With a husky chuckle, he continued to lower—drawing out the ecstasy and the agony.
“Mike,” she managed to moan. “I need you.”
“Now, lass?”
“Yes. Now!”
He eyes grew even darker, his breathing as ragged as hers. He reached between them and grasped himself, until he entered her again. Instinctively, she rose to accept him. Her breath caught when he slipped in further as her inner walls gripped and milked him.
“My God.” He shuddered over her, moving his lips to hers, kissing, swirling his tongue. Sex had always been mind-blowing with Mike but, tonight, they were on a completely different level, as if their souls connected.
He drew it out, making languid thrusts as her thighs clamped around him—wanting, demanding more of him. She grabbed his butt and pulled him deeper, moaning with pure pleasure.
Her fingers sunk into the thick muscles on his ass as he allowed her to control the tempo. Every nerve in her body electrified, her breathing faster. Her body became weightless while her need to push harder rose with Mike’s urgent thrusts. All at once, a primordial cry erupted from the depths of his soul. Henri’s passion soared to new heights while his release pulsed into her. And then she shattered. Reaching her peak, her body soared into rippling spasms of glorious release.
Drenched in sweat, Mike dropped over her, taking his weight onto his elbows. “God woman, you are enough to drive a man to madness.”
Henri ran her fingers through his hair, staring into those crystal blues and adoring everything about him. “That was amazing.”
“Mind blowing.” Mike chuckled. “And the best thing? We can do it again and again—as often as you’d like.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
As Mike’s leg healed, he enjoyed his holiday more and more. In fact, he never wanted it to end. After slipping to town to do a bit of shopping, he decided it was time to take the next step with Henri. No, it wasn’t too soon. The timing was perfect. And for the first time in his life, he actually couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He didn’t even want to look at anyone else. Unheard of. Who knew he’d been waiting all his life for an American sniper to win his heart?
He found her reading in the solarium. “Hiya.” He dangled his keys. “The day’s too bonny not to take a drive.”
She set the book aside. “Ooo! I’ve been wanting to drive that fancy car of yours.”
Mike’s gut squeezed. He’d never allowed anyone to drive the 911. “Perhaps after we travel deeper into the Highlands.”
“Okay. Where are you taking me?”
“Out and about.” He led her to the garage and pulled the cover off his red Porsche.
Henri whistled as she ran her fingers over the sleek lines. “She’s a beauty.”
“My pride and joy.” He opened the door for her. “At least until I met you.”
She hesitated for a moment, a pinch to her brow expressing unease. She bit her bottom lip as if hundreds bad memories suddenly flooded into her head. Mike almost regretted his words until she blessed him with a radiant smile. “Do you mean that?”
“Every word.”
After he slid into the driver’s seat, the car rumbled to life. Mike loved the deep purr of the motor and the way the tires hugged the curves of the road. He drove out of town up past Connel and along the A85 to Loch Awe. Just before they passed over the River Orchy, Henri pointed. “Look, it’s a castle.”
“Kilchurn Castle, built by the Campbells of Glenorchy.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is, and in ruins like so many medieval castles in Scotland.” He drove past the visitors turn, because that’s not where he was heading. At least not today. A bit further down the road, he took a turn, then drove along a dirt road until he came to a stop at a cottage hidden deep in the wood.
“Where are we?” Henri asked.
“Me mum’s place.”
“Mother? You’ve never talked about your mom.”
“I figured it was time you met her.” He shut off the motor. “I’m warning you, she’s a bit forgetful, but kindhearted.”
“Does she know we’re coming to pay a visit?”
“Nay.” He dashed around and opened Henri’s door. “Come. She’ll love you.”
Eagle Eyes didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.” She ran her fingers down her braid. “But you should have told me where we were going. I would have brushed out my hair or something.”
“Good idea.” He pulled the elastic from the end of her braid and unraveled the yard of shiny, black locks. Running his fingers through it, he turned her hair into a silken mane. “There. Now you’re ready.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced but, nonetheless, she was stunning.
Mike pulled her toward the door and gave a knock. Just as he expected, as Mum opened it, an astonished grin spread across her face. “Michael! What a pleasant surprise.”
He gave his mother a hug and made the introductions.
“Henrietta, now that’s a name you dunna hear much anymore.” Mum gestured inside the quaint cottage where Mike had grown up with his younger brother, James. “Come in and I’ll make a pot of tea.”
“And shortbread?” he asked.
“Of course.” Mum led Henri to the settee. “I’m surprised Michael isna as big as the house. He adores my shortbread. Always has.”
“I can’t wait to taste it.”
“How’s the roof holding up?” Mike asked, sitting beside Henri.
“Good.” She put the kettle on to boil. “How is the fishing up north, Michael? It must be good because I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It had been over six months.
“We’re having a record year.” He gave Henri a wink.
The lass mouthed, “Fishing?”
“You ken. I’m a commercial fisherman up in Iceland.” Mike must have forgotten to tell Henri his alias job—the thing friends and family thought he did for a living. “You heard anything from James?”
“Who?” Mum asked.
It tore him up inside to see his mother so forgetful. In her prime, she’d been so sociable, a strong family matriarch. He cleared his throat and batted away the memories. “Your son. Two years younger than me.”
“Oh, that James. Mm hmm.” She moved back into the sitting room with a plate of shortbread that looked store bought. “And who is your friend, Michael?”
“I didna say? This is Henrietta Anderson.”
Mum looked rapt. “Henrietta, now that’s a name you dunna hear overmuch.”
Henri gave Mike a look before she regarded Mum with a warm smile. “That’s right, it is an unusual name. Can I hel
p you pour the tea?”
A bewildered look spread across Mum’s face. “Tea?”
Mike gestured to the kitchen. “That would be lovely, thanks.” He waited until Henri moved to the hob before he took his mother’s hands between his palms. “Is Mrs. Crabtree still coming around twice a day?”
“Och that woman practically lives here.”
“But she takes good care of you.”
Mum pursed her lips. “I suppose.”
“You’re looking bonny.” Changing the subject, he squeezed his mother’s hands and smiled.
“Thank you.”
The afternoon proceeded as smoothly as possible. Henri was gracious, and as soon as she’d realized Mum was more than a little forgetful, she jumped in and helped with everything. They enjoyed a pleasant cup of tea with shortbread and then bid her goodbye.
Neither one said a word as Mike drove the car up through the A82 to the picturesque Falls of Glencoe where they stopped for a walk. He held her hand as they climbed the slope to his favorite lookout where he could see through the majestic mountains clear down to Loch Leven.
“It’s beautiful up here,” said Henri, stopping to pan her gaze across the grandeur of the Coe—majestic mountains, trickling burns and lush summer grasses peeking through purple heather. “So green.”
He slid his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “Aye. I feel like I’m on top of the world every time I traverse these hills.”
“Your mother is sweet.”
He was wondering when Henri would say something. Mike had taken her to the cottage because he wanted her to know his deepest secrets—things he didn’t mention to anyone. “She has a form of early-onset Alzheimer’s. It’s horrible to watch.”
“I’m sorry. It’s an awful disease.”
He nodded then took Henri’s hand and pressed it over his heart. “I’ve never taken a lass to see Mum afore.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I havena ever been in love with someone enough to do it. You ken? To let anyone meet my Mum—to see the way she is now.”
“Because you’re embarrassed?”
“No’ so much that, but it’s personal. No one else’s business.” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s family stuff.”
Henri’s breath caught. “But you don’t mind that I know?”
“I wanted you to know.”
“I’m glad. You already know my family is pretty messed up—I mean, I don’t even have a mother to introduce you to.”
“True.” He pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, his heart swelled. Finally, he’d found his soul mate. “What I’m trying to say is I love you. I love you so much, I want you to ken everything about me, the good and the bad.”
“You love me?” She gasped. “You...you do?”
“I do. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It’s as if I’ve finally found someone hewn of the same cloth, and I never want to let go.”
“You mean that?”
“With all my heart, love.”
She sighed, her chocolaty eyes moist, her grin happier than he’d ever seen. “I can’t believe it. All my life I’ve been a misfit—no one has ever accepted me without wanting me to change into something I’m not. I mean...You really love me?”
“Aye, and I’ll say it again and again, ’cause I never want you to feel like a misfit again. You are perfect just the way you are.”
A tear slipped from her eye. “No one has ever showed me love the way you have. Not one soul. Not ever. Jesus, Mike, I love you, b-but I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I-I don’t know how to love somebody. What if I don’t love you enough? What if I fail?”
“Huh? You gave me the confidence to jump off a two-hundred-foot cliff. I never would have lived through that if it weren’t for your love. You know how to love more than you think. You have shown how much you care about me ten times over.”
She smiled. “I do care for you.”
“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the velvet box containing the ring he’d purchased that day. “I ken we dunna have much time afore we have to go back to ICE, but before we do I need to ask one thing.” He dropped to one knee and took her left hand in his palm, his mouth growing dry. Hell, he was nervous, but through it all, his conviction was rock solid. “Henrietta Soaring-Eagle Anderson, will you marry me?”
Her mouth hung open and she stood motionless. She didn’t even blink.
“Henri?” He held up the ring.
“Yes? I mean, yes! Absolutely.” Another tear slipped from her eye as she held in a combination of laughter and crying while letting him slip the diamond solitaire over her finger. The breeze picked up her wild mane of gorgeous black hair, making her look like the goddess of the eagles. “Oh my, oh my. I can’t believe it. I never thought...”
“Believe it, lass.” Standing, he pulled her into his embrace. “You ken, you have more passion in your trigger finger than most women have in their whole bodies.”
She chuckled. “Only you would think of that analogy and that’s why I love you so much.”
“Now we need to break the news to Garth.”
Wiping away the tears, she gave him an excited cringe. “Do we have to?”
“Aye, lass. And better sooner than later.”
She reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys, giving him a wicked grin. “All right, but not before you let me drive the Porsche.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
For the second time in her life, Henri fell in love. Right after she got behind the wheel of Mike’s Porsche 911. It took her all of two seconds to get used to the steering wheel on the right side of the car and shifting with her left hand. Now, nothing would stop her. She sped around the narrow, twisting Highland roads like she’d been born there.
They drove past dark blue lochs and the ruins of ancient castles, through forests, and over rugged, barren hills.
Nothing could take away the euphoria bubbling inside. She’d taken on ICE and Fadli and, in the process, had won Mike Rose.
Never in her life had she dreamed she’d marry anyone, let alone a big redheaded Scot. A man who believed in her, who treated her as an equal, who would lay down his life for her.
Just as she hit the straightaway and punched the gas, Mike’s phone rang. It was Garth’s ringtone, the one she didn’t want to hear right now. A rock sank to the pit of her stomach as she downshifted and slowed the car.
Mike reached for his phone and gave her a look. “He couldna give us a few more days, could he?”
“I swear that man has ESP.” She pulled over into a restaurant parking lot.
“Hey, boss. What’s up? The bad guys canna live without me?” Mike pressed the speaker icon.
“Bad guys never sleep, unlike you. Has your leg healed yet?”
Henri figured there was no time like the present to announce herself. “I think he needs another week of bedrest, sir.”
“Anderson?” The CO’s voice shot up. “I thought you were going back to Utah for a few weeks.”
She looked at Mike while the interior of the car filled with a pregnant pause.
“Aw, hell.” Garth barked. “Don’t tell me you two are a damned couple. I’ve already had to bend the rules with Rodgers and Hamilton.”
Mike blew a raspberry. “I wouldna say we’re damned.”
“Jesus Christ. Everyone in the outfit’s going to hook up. Come on, Rose, not you, too. Do you have any idea how much it costs to train a new asset?”
Henri leaned forward. “Who said anything about leaving?”
“Sorry, sir. Love canna be helped.” He gave Henri a wink. “Besides, if you bent the rules for Rodgers, you have no choice but to do the same for me. I’ve been with ICE eight times longer than either of those rookies.”
“Jesus strike me dead. Don’t think this changes anything,” the old man barked. “I expect to see you at ICE in one wee
k’s time and if I need Anderson in Syria and Rose in Mexico, that’s how it’s going to be.”
Henri laughed. Mike, too. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Mike pushed the end-call icon. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”
“Me too, but when you think of it, what would Garth do without his best assets?” She reached over and threaded her fingers through his. “We’re married to the job, may as well be married to each other.”
“See?” He smiled—the cheeky, lopsided grin that made him so endearing. “That’s why we make such a perfect match, Eagle Eyes.”
Epilogue
With only a week to plan a wedding, Mike booked a honeymoon suite at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Not a gambler, he chose Sin City for two reasons. First, it took twenty-nine days to get a marriage license in Scotland and they couldn’t wait that long. But the second reason had his palms sweating. He’d ordered coffee and pastries and paced the suite, looking at his watch every five seconds.
Where the bloody hell is he?
Henri came out of the bathroom, dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt that read, “badass sharpshooter”. Probably not the best choice for the morning’s meeting, but it would do. She’d found the shirt in the Vegas airport of all places. But she looked like a million quid with her hair partially dry and brushing her hips. Her gaze immediately homed on the coffee table. “Oh, good. You ordered breakfast.”
He stopped pacing and almost told her to wait, but she’d already picked up the coffee pot.
“Just a minute,” she said, a furrow formed between her eyebrows. “Why are there thee cups?”
A bead of sweat trickled from his brow. Good God, put him in a hellhole fighting terrorists and his nerves were like stone, but this? “I—”
The suite’s doorbell rang.
Mike gulped. This was a bad idea.
Henri set the pot down and picked up her cup. “You going to get that?”
“Yeah.” Just do it. If she really loves me, she’ll forgive me...hopefully, by tomorrow.
He opened the door to a man in his late fifties—blond hair streaked with gray, blue eyes. But even with the ethnic differences, there was a familial resemblance. Mike thrust out his hand. “Thank you for coming, sir.”
