by Joss Wood
I could, if I was braver, less independent and not terrified of staying in one place, I could love him. I could give him what he needed.
But, realistically, all she could give him was sex. Hot, intense, hopefully mind-blowing sex. Sex that he wouldn’t forget.
Tate reached for a pink rose, plunked it on top of the last swirl of icing and ignored the last bare cupcake. She tossed the piping bag on the counter and pushed her hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist.
She was done. She wanted a shower and this man. Now.
Tate looked at Linc. “Shaw asleep?”
He nodded.
Tate gestured to the baby monitor. “So is Ellie.”
Linc, not moving a muscle, just looked at her, his eyes blazing. Oh, God, was she going to have to spell it out for him? Maybe she could write Let’s Strip on the counter with pale pink icing. Tate held her breath as Linc dropped to his feet to stand so close to her that her breasts brushed his chest. He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. She sighed when she saw the green icing from her hair now smeared on his fingers. “You’re a mess, Harper.”
She agreed. “I know. I’ll go shower and—”
“You’re a hot, sexy mess,” Linc murmured, ignoring her interruption. “You smell of sugar and chocolate and some perfume that drives me insane. You aren’t wearing a shred of makeup, yet your face looks like it should be on the cover of a fashion magazine.”
Linc placed his hand on her cheek, and his thumb drifted across her cheekbone. Tate gripped his strong wrist as his sexy words flowed over her, into her, heating her blood and drying up the moisture in her mouth.
Linc’s thumb moved to her mouth. “I can’t wait to touch you, taste you, to see you naked. I know that my fantasies will not match the reality.”
Tate placed her hands on his chest and sucked in a deep breath. “All I need is a quick shower,” she begged.
Linc bent his knees and in one fluid, easy movement, scooped her into his arms. Tate wrapped her arm around his neck, as she absorbed the heat from his hard, lean body. “You can shower later, sweetheart, preferably with me. I’ve waited too long for you. I’m not waiting any longer.”
“But—”
Linc ignored her protest and strode over to the couch, holding her close to him before allowing her feet to drift to the floor. “I need you, Tate. Now.”
Since she sensed that Linc rarely, if ever, used need and you in the same sentence, she just linked her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to brush her mouth across his. She couldn’t give him what he needed, deserved, on a long-term basis, but she could give him what he needed tonight. That she could do.
“I’m here, Linc. Take me.”
Linc, smart man that he was, didn’t need any further encouragement, and he quickly pulled her shirt up and over her head. Dropping the sticky garment to the floor, Tate watched his face as he looked down at her chest, his hands moving to cup her breasts in his big, masculine hands.
“So pretty, Tate.”
To Tate’s surprise, Linc lifted his hands from her breasts to tunnel his fingers into her heavy mass of hair, and he angled her face to receive his no-holds-barred kiss. Tongues tangoed as he devoured her mouth, learning her taste, her essence, silently telling her that he wanted more.
That he wanted all that she had.
Exhilarated by his passion and his low, guttural murmurs of appreciation, Tate undid the buttons of his shirt and pushed it open so that she could explore the hot skin of his wide chest, to discover the hard muscles underneath.
So sexy, she thought, pure masculine strength. Tate’s fingers traced the ridges of his stomach and moved on to the long muscles on either side of his hips and couldn’t resist the urge to dance her fingers across the powerful erection that tented his jeans.
Oh, yeah. He felt amazing, and, judging by Linc’s sudden gasp, he liked what she was doing as much as she did. And she liked it a lot. Teasing him, Tate traced his long length with the tip of her finger.
“Tate.”
He muttered her name against her mouth, but she heard the desire and the demand in his voice. Linc’s hands skated down her back to find her bra strap which he snapped open with a minimum of fuss. The cups of her lace bra fell away, and Linc pulled the fabric off her bare breasts, revealing her hard, pink nipples to his gaze.
“Yeah, so damn pretty,” Linc breathed as his hands moved to the waistband of her leggings, pushing the fabric down her hips to reveal her tiny panties to his hot, hungry gaze.
His hands gripped and released her hips as he looked down at her, past her flat stomach, over the neat landing strip showing through the transparent fabric to her long legs.
“You are sheer perfection.”
She wasn’t, but she appreciated the words.
“You’re not too bad yourself, Ballantyne,” Tate whispered, dropping a wet, open-mouth kiss on his bare chest as she attempted to undo his belt buckle.
Linc slid his hand between her legs and cupped her, his thumb immediately finding and brushing her sensitive spot through the fabric of her thong, causing her to moan into his chest. If she didn’t get her hands on him soon...
“Help me, Linc. I need to feel you,” Tate told him, looking up as she laid her flat palm on him, wishing that she had a spell to magically make clothes evaporate.
Linc’s hand pressed hers against his erection, and she heard his ragged breathing, his low curses.
“We need to slow this down. If we don’t, I’m going to toss you onto that couch and take you, right here, right now.”
And that would be a problem? “Since that’s exactly what I want—hot, fast, furious—I’m wondering why you are waiting.”
Linc reached behind him and pulled out a strip of three condoms from the back pocket of his jeans. He ripped off a packet with his teeth and allowed the rest to fall to the floor. He dropped the packet into her hand with a wicked, tempting smile. “You said that you want to get your hands on me,” he teased.
“If you helped me with your pants, I would,” Tate retorted, opening the foil packet.
Linc lifted an amused eyebrow. “Feeling flustered, sweetheart?”
Tate looked him in the eye. “Aren’t you? We have all this raging heat, and I can’t wait to stand in the ring of fire and burn with you.”
Linc undid his belt and, using just one hand, flipped open the buttons to his jeans. He pushed his jeans and underwear down his hips, and Tate caught her breath when she saw his big erection standing straight and proud.
She flashed him a grin. “Wow. Talking about pretty...”
Linc groaned when her small hand encircled him, and nipped her jaw with his teeth. “Pretty? Try another, more manly adjective please?” he teased, laughter in his voice.
“Impressive? Masculine? Bold?” Tate rubbed her thumb lightly over the head of his shaft.
“Those will work,” Linc growled, pushing her thong over her hips. When they were completely naked, he sat down on the couch and pulled Tate onto him, so that her knees straddled his thighs.
As his hands moved between her legs she curled her hand around his long and thick erection. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to be pushed, possessed, filled, taken to the limit. She wanted to feel as if she like belonged here, with him, just for this brief slice of time.
As Linc tested her readiness by sliding his finger into her, Tate pulled out the condom and swiftly rolled it over him, sucking in her breath as he hardened even more.
“Tate, I don’t think I can wait any longer. I need to be inside you,” Linc said, his voice rough with need. “I know it’s our first time, and I should be taking it slow but...dammit, I don’t think I can.” Not giving her time to reply, Linc hooked his big hands under her thighs and lifted her up, spreading her legs so that t
he head of his shaft probed her wet, feminine core. Linc’s hands on her hips gently guided her down as he thrust into her with one long, confident stroke. Tate felt herself liquefying, her entire focus on how Linc felt inside her. Her vision tunneled and there was just the two of them in the world, and making love was all that was important, all that could ever matter. Linc’s hands on her skin, his mouth under hers, him filling those long neglected spaces was all she could focus on.
Linc held her breasts in his hands, his fingers caressing her ultrasensitive nipples, and his tongue in her mouth mimicked the thrust of his hips, the sure strokes as he lifted her closer to the sun.
“Come for me, honey, let me feel you,” Linc coaxed, his forehead against hers.
Tate was beyond speech, so she replied by grinding down on him as lightning danced along her skin.
Linc moved his head so that he could speak directly in her ear. “You feel so good. So sexy. Take me, Tate, take all of me. Yeah, like that.”
Her mind and body full of him, Tate reached for her release, and she shouted as another bolt of lightning skittered through her and splintered her body into a million pieces. Somewhere, from a place far away, she heard Linc’s demands in her ear, his words not making sense. But his body did, and she understood the silent demand that she reach for more. She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t, that it was all too much, but then he touched a place deep inside her and she exploded again, harder and faster than before.
A century might’ve passed, or maybe it was only a minute or two, before she came back to herself, her cheek against his chest, his arms holding her tight.
“We did it,” Linc murmured, his hand brushing her hair off her cheek.
“We most certainly did,” Tate agreed, her mouth curving into a satisfied smile.
“The sex was fantastic, I agree, but I was referring to the fact that we managed to make love without one of the kids waking up.”
Oh, right. She’d forgotten about the kids upstairs. But until one of them yelled, she wasn’t moving a muscle. “Yay.”
“Want to see if we can do it again while the going is good?” She heard Linc’s smile in his words, felt the curve of his lips against her bare shoulder.
Tate nodded. Nobody could ever accuse her of not being up for the challenge.
“Slow and sexy this time?” Tate asked.
Linc’s wonderful mouth curved upward. “Sexy every time, sweetheart.”
Nine
Tate, always slow to wake up, pulled a strand of hair out of her mouth and groaned into her pillow. Fighting the urge to slide back into sleep, she yawned, frowning when she realized the pillowcase was a deep chocolate color and not the snowy white fabric she normally woke up to.
Linc. Sex. All night long. They’d started on the couch and ended in his bedroom. Twice, three times, four if you counted the heavy petting they’d shared in the shower. They’d been insatiable, turning to each other time and again, consumed by the need to give and receive pleasure.
He was the best lover she’d ever had... Admittedly, she hadn’t had that many men in her bed, but she was convinced that if she had, he’d still be the best. Tender, demanding and confident and, surprisingly, uninhibited, Linc seemed to shed his calm, reserved, everything-can-be-worked-out attitude with his clothes and morphed into a dirty-talking, demanding, unrestrained lover.
Tate had no complaints. Nope, she couldn’t think of one. Well, maybe a little one: she was in his bed and he wasn’t touching her. That, she decided, could be easily remedied. Tate rolled over, and instead of encountering Linc’s hot, hard, naked warmth, her hand landed on a small body wearing flannel pajamas covered in helicopters. Tate immediately glanced down at her chest and sighed her relief when she realized that she was wearing one of Linc’s T-shirts.
Thoroughly confused, she lifted her head to look over Shaw’s sprawled-out body and saw Ellie lying on Linc’s T-shirt-covered chest, her face tucked into his neck and his hand covering her small back. His eyelashes were spikes against his cheeks, and heavy stubble covered his jawline.
Tate noticed the baby monitor on the bedside table next to him and tried to make sense of the time between falling asleep naked and now. She’d acquired a shirt, Linc had pulled on some clothes, and the huge bed they’d made love in had been invaded by two little people.
They looked like a family, Tate thought, panic creeping up her throat. This was what she’d had as a kid, two parents, lazy Saturday morning sleep-ins.
“Welcome to life with kids,” Linc drawled, his growly voice dancing over her skin.
Tate pushed her elbow into the bed and rested her head in her hand. She looked across Shaw to Linc, who had yet to open his eyes. “When did they wake up?”
Linc cracked open one eye and lifted his wrist to look at his high-tech watch. “Shaw wandered in at about five, Miss Ellie was bellowing at six.”
Tate winced. “I didn’t hear a thing. You should’ve roused me.”
Linc rolled his head and his smoky eyes met hers. Heat curled through her at the appreciation in his gaze. “I tried. You didn’t even stir when I poured you into my shirt.”
“That might be because we only got to sleep a few hours ago.” She gestured to Ellie. “But thanks. I owe you.”
“You do,” Linc replied, his smile lazy. “If we were alone, I’d show you how you could repay me.”
Tate blushed, thinking of how well he’d loved her. She opened her mouth to make a witty retort, but her brain had nothing. Zip. Not because Linc was six feet something of pure, primal male but because she’d rolled back in time. Remembering the little girl she’d been, climbing into her parents’ bed at the crack of dawn, waking up in her dad’s arms, her face tucked into his neck, hearing his whiskey-rough voice telling her to go back to sleep.
She’d had a few years of happiness and security, but that had been ripped away when Kari and Lauren dropped into their house and lives. Nothing lasted forever, and as sweet and wholesome as this little scenario was, her past reminded her that it wasn’t hers to keep. Sex was one thing, but playing happy family with Linc and these gorgeous children was not something she could indulge in. She might come to like it and, worse, come to yearn for it. She’d lost one family unit; she wasn’t going to set herself up to lose another.
Tate was about to sit up when Ellie’s eyes slowly opened and focused on her face. She yawned and lifted her little hand in Tate’s direction, her extraordinary blue eyes full of love. Smiling, she crawled off Linc’s chest, over the still-sleeping Shaw and into Tate’s arms. Ah, dammit, Tate thought as Ellie’s chubby arms wound around her neck and the little girl burrowed closer, her nose under Tate’s jaw, her hands tangled in her long hair.
This was trust at its purest form, Tate thought, holding Ellie tight and closing her eyes, feeling the wash of love breaking over her, holding all the pent-up power of the sea. Oh, God, she couldn’t fall in love with Ellie, couldn’t start thinking of being her family, her primary caregiver, of making a family with her.
How was she supposed to look after a little girl with the type of career she had? Babies and border posts were not a happy combination at the best of times, and taking Ellie with her would be utterly impractical.
Keeping Ellie with her would mean sacrificing her career—a career that earned her a lot of money and that she loved. With Ellie in her arms, Tate stood up and walked over to the window of Linc’s bedroom, pushing aside the heavy drapes to look down at the icy road below. She released a heavy sigh. If she even dared to imagine giving up her freedom and her independence to raise Ellie, how would she support them? She had a healthy bank account and she could probably buy an apartment—not in Manhattan obviously—and ensure that they had a roof over their heads. But she’d still have to feed them, clothe them, pay the utilities, and to do that she’d need a job. A job, in this context, meant staying in on
e place, and Tate shuddered. She hadn’t had a fixed abode in years, and she didn’t think she could do it.
A bigger worry was that Ellie was starting to attach to her, as she’d just shown by leaving Linc’s arms to crawl to her. Would she psychologically damage her niece when she gave her back to her mom? How would being a human equivalent of pass-the-parcel affect Ellie long-term? Would she have trust issues? Tate wouldn’t blame her if she did.
Tate felt Linc’s hands on her waist and sighed when his big body pressed up against hers, her back to his chest, his chin resting on the top of his head. “Is this all feeling a bit too real?” he asked, his deep voice gentle.
Tate nodded, a ball constricting her throat. “I don’t think I can do this, Linc.”
She had to pull back, she had to find that place of inner solitude that served her so well. She had to retreat to her mental island where emotions couldn’t affect her.
“Do what, Tate? Us?”
“No, that I can do because I know it’s just sex.” Not understanding the reason for Linc’s sudden tension, she ignored it.
“I’m not sure I can be what Ellie needs,” Tate said, her voice cracking. “She’s starting to trust me, starting to rely on me, but in a couple of days, or in a few weeks, I’m going to hand her back to Kari—”
“If you find her.”
“Reame will find her,” Tate stated. He had to; she couldn’t imagine having to make the final and crucial decisions about Ellie’s future. That was Kari’s job, dammit. “I’m worried that I will end up hurting her by loving her, by bonding with her knowing that that bond will be severed soon.”
Linc rubbed his chin over her hair, and Tate felt the reassuring squeeze on her hips. “Tate, trust is a learned skill. When we teach children to love and to trust by being loving and trustworthy, they learn that they can expect that from other adults.”
