Solid Heart (Unseen Enemy Book 7)

by Marysol James

  Francine focused on his mouth now. His curved, sensual, full mouth. How would it taste, she wondered. How would it feel on her own lips – and she didn’t just mean the lips under her nose. At the thought of his head and shoulders rising and falling between her thighs, her whole body shuddered again, this time with pure, delicious desire.

  Mark’s arms held her closer, tighter. “Still cold?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m warming up a bit.”

  He heard what she really meant, heard it loud and clear. He paused, stared down at her. He searched her eyes, looking for permission to do what he wanted so desperately. When she raised her chin and held his gaze, unflinching and aware, that was when he knew.

  “Francine,” he said softly, both of his hands moving down and holding her sweet face. “Francine, sugar…”

  She gasped, and then his mouth was on hers, swallowing the sound. The kiss was so small, so damn gentle, that Francine half-wondered if she was just imagining it. Then he moved his mouth over hers to control the kiss, and that was when she was sure that this was happening: she was actually with Mark Hayden. Like, ’held in his arms, held against his chest, held so tight that she thought she might pass out’, with him.

  Unable to contain her response to this man, she moaned. As if he’d been waiting for a sign of assent from her, he slid his hands down her throat, curled them gently around her neck, held her in place as he took her mouth over and over again. His kisses became stronger, deeper, harder. He was dominating her with his kisses and his touch, and she loved it.

  That surprised her, to put it mildly. Normally, she’d tense up, open up her mouth and object, feel vaguely threatened by a huge man with his hands anywhere close to her throat… but with Mark, she didn’t do or feel any of those things. God, nobody had ever taken such immediate command of her before, and never before had she wanted anybody to do that. She didn’t believe in simply handing herself over to anyone – most especially not a man – but it didn’t seem like weakness to submit to him.

  Yes, Mark touched her with possessiveness, but it didn’t feel disrespectful, or angry, or belittling. Instead, it felt powerful, intense, passionate. It felt… male. Pure alpha male, and Francine felt the soft, gentle, feminine part of herself open up to it. He was reaching out to her, she knew, and she just let herself reach back.

  She clenched her hands around his massive biceps, loving the strength under her fingertips. His muscles bunched and flexed with his every movement, his every breath, and she longed to have him totally naked and under her roaming hands.

  “Ahem,” a voice said now, but Francine didn’t hear it. She was so overwhelmed by Mark, by what he was doing to her, that she didn’t know anything beyond him, beyond this moment.

  Mark heard it, though. Automatically protecting Francine from curious eyes, not wanting her to be embarrassed or vulnerable, he turned her whole body away from the man standing in the doorway of Alexandra’s room. Annoyance bubbled up in him at being torn away from the sweetest, sexiest woman that he’d ever held, but the man’s badge said it all. Any more kissing was going to have to wait.

  Francine whimpered when Mark pulled back. Her eyes opened, and she blinked, confused at the loss of his warmth.

  “You good, sugar?” Mark asked her, his hands cupping her face. He kept his voice low, to keep the conversation just between them. “You still feel cold and shaky?”

  “Uh.” Still perplexed at his sudden withdrawal, she drew back a bit too. His arms clamped down like steel bands, though, holding her to him, and she stopped moving away. “Uh, no. No, I’m OK now.”

  “Yeah?” He held her eyes. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Mark tilted his head back and to the side. “The cops are here.”

  Startled, she jumped in his lap, and Mark mumbled a curse under his breath as his cock leapt to attention under her gloriously rounded ass. When she untangled herself from his embrace and from the blanket and stood up, he let loose a slew of filthy words in his mind. Goddamn the man’s timing, and goddamn the universe. Was it really so much to ask for just another few minutes of Francine curled up warm and soft against him?

  “Mr. Hayden?” the man said now in a soft Texan drawl. “Doctor Cabot?”

  They nodded.

  The man entered the room, moving astonishingly quickly and quietly for such a big man. “Detective Ian Neilson. I’m so sorry to have just busted on in like that… it was damn rude of me.”

  “It’s fine,” Mark managed to say, though it definitely wasn’t fine. Not even fucking close. “We know we need to give statements.”

  “Doctor Cabot,” Ian said. “Can I please talk to you first?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Could we stay here, though? If Alexandra comes to, I want to be here for her.”

  “Sure. Please sit down, ma’am. You’ve had one hell of a long night, huh?”

  She smiled and turned back to the chair, but Mark was right there. He gathered her close again, totally uncaring that Ian Neilson was standing two feet away and listening intently.

  “You really OK?” Mark said. “You can always give your statement tomorrow if you don’t feel ready yet. No pressure, and no rush. That dickhead’s in custody, and he’s not going anywhere tonight, so if you need to wait, say so.”

  “I’m fine, Mark. I promise. I’m doing much better now… thanks to you.”

  He grinned at her, loving the saucy teasing beneath the words.

  “Are you injured in some way, ma’am?” Ian butted in. “Do you need some rest and recovery time?”

  “Oh, no.” Francine twisted in Mark’s arms. It wasn’t easy, because he didn’t loosen his grip, but she at least managed to make eye contact with Ian. “Rick Mayer didn’t so much as lay a finger on me, Detective. I just – I was shaky for a few minutes. Delayed shock, I think, but it wasn’t bad.”

  Ian’s black eyes looked her up and down, really taking her in fully, and Mark found himself bristling. He didn’t want any man checking Francine out, to be honest, and even though he knew he was being an unreasonable jerk, he didn’t care.

  Carefully, Mark lowered Francine on to the leather seat. He ran an affectionate hand over her blonde hair, loving how she smiled up at him. It was a small, private smile, meant just for him.

  It spoke volumes, that smile, and in it, he heard every single thing that she thought and felt. She wasn’t sorry about what had happened in that chair, he knew, and she wanted more of it, and she wanted it as soon as possible. And thank Christ for that, because Mark was damn good and ready to pick up right where they’d left off. If she’d felt conflicted about what was going on between them, he thought it just might wreck him.

  She was sure about all of it, though, and she was on board. This was a woman who knew what she wanted, and didn’t feel an ounce of feel shame or indecision about that. She was a woman who stood by her desires, and her instincts, and her wants; no backing down or backing up, not for his girl. A woman like that was pretty rare, in his experience, and damned if he was going to let Francine get away from him.

  “I’ll be out in the waiting room, babe,” Mark said. “You need me, you call.”

  “I will.”

  She sighed when he left, missing him already. Ian dragged a second chair over, sat right in front of her. That was when Francine looked at him, really looked at him, and she was surprised to discover that Ian Neilson was, actually, one hell of a good-looking guy. She hadn’t even noticed that at first, and she chalked it up to not even being able to focus on another man when Mark was in the room.

  Ian ran a large hand through his dark-blond hair, pulled out a notebook. He stared at the page in front of him for a few seconds, then glanced up at her.

  “So.” He clicked his pen. “Can you tell me how you ended up at Alexandra Mayer’s house tonight?”

  Francine nodded, and launched
in to the night’s events. She knew how police investigations went, and she was sure that she’d be retelling this story over and over again. It’d drive her crazy, and it’d be upsetting, and she’d hate every second of it… but if it ensured that Rick Mayer went to jail for every minute that he deserved, she’d do it. She’d do it for Alexandra, and she’d do it for as long as it took to get that woman some justice.

  Chapter Four

  Three hours later, Mark finally shook Ian’s hand goodbye. Fuck, the man was nothing if not methodical, and Mark was sure he’d be grateful for that soon enough. But right now, Ian’s dogged attention to detail and quadruple-checking of every single word was keeping Mark away from Francine. And he hated being away from Francine, especially since she was just down the hall.

  “Here’s my card,” Ian said, handing it over. “If you or Doctor Cabot need anything, or you think of anything more, please call me. I wrote my personal cell on my card, too, so you can call me any time, even the middle of the night. I don’t sleep much.”

  Mark grinned at that, recognizing a fellow graveyard-shift worker when he saw one. “You work quite a few nights, Detective?”

  “Damn right.” Ian stretched his broad shoulders. “You must too, being a bodyguard.”

  “Umm-hmmm. Lots of ‘em.”

  “You like it?”

  “Depends on the job.”

  “Yeah.” Ian sighed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Some are harder than others, huh?”

  “Unfortunately, yeah.” Mark paused. “You specialize in this kind of thing? Domestic violence?”

  “I do now. I’m from the child-protection unit, originally, and the two areas are pretty strongly linked. I kind of landed here, since I needed a change, and I have not one ounce of respect for men who hurt women. It feels real personal to me, so I take on every single case of abuse or violence against women that I can.”

  “Nothing feels as good as getting the bad guy, huh?”

  “You are goddamn right about that, man.”

  The men shook hands again, with real warmth and mutual respect this time, and Mark watched Ian step on to the elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut, he spun on his heels and bolted back to Alexandra’s room.

  He stood in the doorway, staring at Francine. She’d finally succumbed to her exhaustion, he was relieved to see. It was going on four a.m. now, and although Mark was used to pulling all-nighters, he knew that Francine had been close to collapsing after Ian had finished taking her statement almost two hours earlier.

  He walked closer, listening to her breathe. She was all curled up like a cat, her curvy legs tucked under her, the blanket clutched to her chin. She had turned in the roomy chair, and her beautiful face was hidden against the leather. She looked so small, so damn delicate, and he longed to put his body between her and the big, bad world. Again.

  Gently, he lifted her up and in to his arms. She’d barely had time to make a sound of surprise before he was sitting, Francine held tight to his muscular frame. She sighed deeply, snuggled down deeper in to his warmth. He leaned back, stroking her hair, waiting for her to settle again.

  It didn’t take long. She turned her face in to his chest, and relaxed totally. She was completely out within a minute, and that was when Mark finally allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off for two hours.

  **

  The next morning, Francine was woken up by a nurse taking Alexandra’s blood pressure. She yawned, then grimaced at the crick in her neck. Yeah, sleeping in chairs wasn’t ideal, but she was staying put until Alexandra came to. She’d sleep standing up, if that’s what had to be done.

  “Good morning!” the nurse twinkled at her. “Did you get any rest?”

  “Yes, a bit. Thanks for asking.” Francine ran a hand through her hair, sure that it looked about as attractive as a rat’s nest. “How’s Alexandra doing?”

  “Better.” The nurse checked something in the chart, scribbled a few notes. “The doctor will start his rounds in about an hour, and he’ll tell you more then, OK?”

  “Yes.” Francine got to her feet slowly, gingerly stretching her arms and legs. Oooh, yeah. She’d been cramped up last night, and her body was going to let her know all about that today.

  “What time does the cafeteria open?” Francine asked. “And is the coffee semi-decent?”

  “It opened an hour ago, and no, sadly it’s not.”

  “Argh,” Francine groaned. “How to survive? How?”

  “Maybe I can help you with that, babe.”

  Her heart in her throat, Francine turned. There Mark stood, so large and rugged in the sunrise, just so damn delicious, she couldn’t catch her breath for a second. His eyes were bright green in his hard face, and all that dark stubble just contributed to the edgy, dangerous vibe that he was giving off.

  Also? How had she not noticed how perfectly his jeans sculpted to the bulging muscles of his thighs, or how snugly his t-shirt hugged that taut upper body? Yeah, she’d been distracted the night before, and worried and scared, but Christ. She hadn’t been blind. Except apparently she had been.

  Her eyes moved up and down his bulky frame hungrily, admiring his rough good looks, still a bit stunned that she’d actually touched this body. Adding to the perfection of this heavenly sight of male gorgeousness was the fact that he was holding two large, steaming, takeaway cups in his hands.

  “Coffee!” Francine exclaimed. Yeah, Mark was the most amazing thing in the room – but fresh, real coffee was one hell of a damn close second. “You come bearing coffee!”

  “You know it,” Mark said. “I knew my girl would need her caffeine when she woke up.”

  “Oooh.” She almost flung herself at him. “I wonder if it’s possible to get my first cup intravenously.”

  “Well, we are in a hospital,” Mark said. “I figure if these people can do brain surgery and heart transplants, how hard can it be for them to hook up some coffee on a drip?”

  The nurse laughed. “Let me tell you something: if there was any way to get coffee in to human veins, we nurses would have discovered it by now.”

  “I’ll just bet.” Mark gave her his wide, sexy smile, and both women almost passed out. “If you ever stumble upon the way to do it, you’ll give me a call, yeah?”

  Flustered, and thinking that she’d love to give the man a call for no particular reason whatsoever, the nurse agreed. She left the room, and Mark and Francine looked at each other.

  As she gazed at his handsome face, she was suddenly very aware of her sticking-up hair and her morning breath. Whatever minimal makeup she’d had on last night had to have all rubbed off by now, and her face felt like someone had walked over it. In short, she was a hot mess, and she decided to flee the nearest bathroom and check out the situation. She was pretty damn sure she’d be declaring a state of emergency.

  “How you doing, babe?” he asked softly. “You sleep OK?”

  “Yes.” She paused, remembering the fuzzy edges of something sweet and safe. “Did you – were you here in the room with me?”

  “Umm-hmmm.”

  Something about the way he murmured that sound, all husky and low, twigged her memory. “Wait. You were holding me while I slept, weren’t you?”

  “Of course I was.”

  “Oh, Mark.” Her heart squeezed at how determined this man was to protect and care for her. Chemistry and kissing aside, they barely even knew each other, really, and he was already stepping up, stepping in. “Thank you.”

  “C’mon over here and thank me properly,” he said gruffly. “You do that, we’ll call it even.”

  “Oh, no!” Horrified, she took a step back. “I’m a disaster area…”

  “You kidding me?” He approached slowly, his eyes nailed to her face. “You’re beautiful, Francine. Don’t you know that?”

  Mute, she shook her head.

  “Well, you should, b
ecause you are.”

  “You really think so?” she said.

  “I really do.” He was right in front of her now, huge and hard. “Now, I’m not asking you again… come here.”

  This time, she came to him without hesitation. She just stepped right on in to his powerful embrace, not thinking at all about her uncombed hair, her lack of lipstick, her wrinkled clothes. She lifted her shining face to his, and when he kissed her, she didn’t even care that she didn’t have minty breath. He made her feel so damn beautiful, it was astounding.

  Mark almost sighed with relief to be holding her again. How could a woman that he barely knew have just crawled under his skin like this, and in such a short time? How had this curvy blonde angel taken up residence in his emotions so quickly? It was shocking, to put it bluntly, but right this minute, Mark didn’t give a damn. He was holding her, and that was as far as the borders of his thoughts and his world went. There was nothing beyond Francine, not right now.

  God, she was sweet, and soft, and small. He tried to take it slow, tried to keep things semi-decorous – they were, after all, standing next to a badly-beaten woman in a busy hospital – but all those good intentions went straight to hell at that first taste of her.

  Mark curled his fist in her long hair, holding her right where he wanted her. She gasped, and he pulled back slightly, making sure that she was OK with his gentle dominance. Not every woman liked it, some were even afraid of it, and he needed to check in.

  “This OK, sugar?” he whispered against her full lips. “Not too rough?”

  “Nuh-uh.” She sounded breathless, and he wasn’t going to lie, he liked how she sounded. “Just rough enough.”

  He growled deep in his throat, and it was dark and primal; it was all sex and want. Francine gasped again, and moved closer to him. His hand tightened around her silky hair, his other arm slid around her waist, holding her flush against his lower body. His mouth descended again, no holding back this time.