by Mandy Baxter
“I bet you taste like honey.”
Holy shit.
“Is your pussy wet, Livy? Is it dripping with all that sweetness for me?”
Her underwear had been damp since the moment he’d kissed her. Wet was an understatement. She was embarrassingly ready for him, every inch of her begging for it. Nick took her earlobe between his teeth.
“If I slipped my hand into your underwear, would you be wet?”
“Uh-huh.”
She felt him smile against her throat.
“I want to fuck you.” Nick inhaled a deep breath and let it all out on a rush. “God, I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment we met.”
He had? The admission made Livy want to purr.
“I think about what it’s going to feel like to be inside of you and it makes me so damned hard it hurts. I want to fuck you slowly. Hard and deep. I want to fuck until we’re too exhausted to move. I want to make you moan, Livy. I want you to scream. I want to hear you say my name when you come. Would you do that? Would you scream my name?”
In Livy’s mind, she’d already experienced at least a dozen orgasms. Nick painted a vivid picture with his words, colored in shades of raw, vibrant passion that nearly blinded her with its brilliance.
He wanted her to scream his name? Already, she was prepared to do or say any damn thing he wanted.
* * *
“I’ll scream whatever the hell you want me to Nick, as long as you don’t stop.”
Her breathy reply tickled Nick’s ear and tingled down his spine. His cock throbbed and his sac ached and if he didn’t bury himself to the hilt in her slick heat soon, he was going to fucking explode.
Admitting all of the hot, dirty things he wanted to do to Livy felt like absolution somehow. As though he’d made his confession and with every agreement from her lips, she’d forgiven him. For what? For wanting to fuck her until neither of them could form a coherent thought?
Nick didn’t like to beat around the bush. He called it like he saw it, never shied away from what he wanted and never felt bad about how he went about getting it. Now, though, he felt the slightest twinge of regret tug at his chest. He might’ve been straight with Livy about all of the lewd things he wanted to do to her, but Livy thought Nick was someone he wasn’t. Sort of.
Wasn’t she playing the same game, though? Technically, they were on level ground. So really, he had no reason to feel even an ounce of regret. Right?
God, she smelled good.
Nick nuzzled Livy’s neck. She was so soft, so responsive, so goddamned desirable that he could hardly control himself. He wanted to strip her bare. Bury his face between her thighs. Lick, suck, and bite until she couldn’t form a single word to save her life. He wanted to fuck her so hard and so deep that he lost all sense of where his body ended and hers began. Nick wanted to lose himself to Livy.
He was already halfway there.
“Tell me you want my mouth on your pussy.”
He wanted to hear it from her lips in her sweet, seductive voice. Wanted her to twine his hair through her fingers and shove him between her legs. He wanted to feel her thighs quiver against his face, wanted to hear her cries. Nick wanted all Livy could give him. All of her. But was it because he truly wanted to make her his or because he was hell-bent on taking something that Joel Meecum wanted?
Nick’s obsessions bled together until he couldn’t distinguish between them anymore. And maybe he didn’t want to.
“I want your mouth on me, Nick.” The desperation in Livy’s tone tested his control. “I don’t think I can wait anymore.”
Part of him wanted to make her wait. To continue to talk to her. To tease her until Livy begged him to take her. Common sense threatened to spoil the moment as Nick’s sense of honor scratched at the back of his mind. He could stop. He could end this before he crossed a line and did something he might regret. Nick pulled away to find Livy’s head tilted back, her eyes closed. His gaze wandered over her pale, delicate breasts that swelled over the cups of her bra and any resolve he might have had shattered.
Not even his own goddamned morality could stop him now.
Nick leaned back on his knees. The couch wasn’t exactly the most comfortable spot for what he wanted to do but he wasn’t going to waste another second getting Livy naked. The couch, the floor, the recliner . . . he didn’t care. He’d take her on the front porch in a foot of snow if that was his only option.
Livy’s eyes came open. The hazel depths burned with molten heat and Nick kept his gaze locked with hers as he finished what she’d started and unzipped her jeans the rest of the way. Careful not to drag her underwear down with the denim, he eased them over her thighs and Livy obligingly brought her legs up between them so he could pull them the rest of the way off. He discarded the jeans behind him but kept hold of her ankles. The half-moons of her ass peeked out from the legs of her underwear that looked more like tiny shorts and served to whet his appetite for her.
The light blue fabric was darker where it covered her pussy, soaked with her arousal just like she promised him it was. With the pad of his thumb, Nick stroked her there, softly, and she moaned.
“Does that feel good?” He stroked her again.
“Yes,” Livy said on another moan.
He spread her legs and stroked her once more. He teased himself as much as he did her. When he finally took her, they’d both be mindless. Urgent. Starved. Nick could hardly wait.
From the kitchen the sound of glass shattering on the tile floor sliced through the quiet. Livy sat up with a start, nearly knocking her head against Nick’s. Her eyes were wide with fear and her brows pinched. She struggled to free herself from their tangle of limbs as she disengaged from his hold. She scrambled to her feet and snatched her shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head in a flash of turquoise blue. He’d seen that look of panic before—the fight-or-flight reflex that couldn’t be controlled—and it wrenched his heart. Her gaze darted from the kitchen to the front door and back. “Oh my God, what was that?”
Nick tried to calm her but she’d nearly steamrolled him in her haste to get off the couch. He reached out and caught her wrist as he stood from the couch and hauled her against him. Violent tremors rocked her body and her eyes glistened as though with unshed tears. Her expression rocketed Nick into his past, trying to calm his own sister after her fear and anxiety had gotten the better of her.
“It’s okay, Livy. I’ve got you.”
She glanced toward the kitchen as though what he said didn’t even register. “Was that the window? Did someone break the window?”
It didn’t sound like it, but Nick knew that Livy wouldn’t be convinced unless she knew for sure. “I don’t think so, but I’ll go check, okay?”
He tried to let go of her but she kept an iron grip on his forearm. Her fear vibrated through her limbs into his and Nick clenched his jaw. He didn’t want Livy to be afraid. Couldn’t stand her fear. It damned near crippled him. He’d do whatever it took to make sure she didn’t feel that way ever again.
“Come on, Livy. Let’s go see what’s up in the kitchen.”
Nick’s gut knotted up as they rounded the corner. Her anxiety rubbed off on him and he half expected a crew of leather-clad bikers waiting to drill a bullet into both their heads. Instead, he found a very smug-looking Simon perched on the countertop. Below him on the floor was a shattered glass. Nick eased Livy to his side though she resisted. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tucked her against his body.
“I think someone was jealous he wasn’t getting all of the attention.”
Livy relaxed against him and Nick had a feeling that if he wasn’t holding her upright she would’ve fallen square on her ass. “Simon!” The relief in her tone allowed Nick’s muscles to loosen. “You’re a bad boy!”
The cat blinked slowly at her before he brought one paw up to his mouth to lick. The little bastard had effectively ruined Nick’s night and he seemed pretty goddamned pleased about it, too. No way would Nick be
able to salvage it, not with Livy as shaken up as she was.
She might’ve settled down, but she was hardly at ease. Nick put his lips to the top of her head as though it was the most natural thing to do. “Want me to check outside, make sure all of the windows are locked?”
She nodded.
“Why don’t you take Simon upstairs? I’ll come up when I’m done.”
Another nod answered him. Livy’s steps were mechanical as she walked to the counter—careful to avoid the shards of glass—and scooped Simon up in her arms. She cast Nick a nervous glance as she walked past him, through the dining room and up the stairs to her bedroom.
If any of Livy’s irrational fears had to do with Joel Meecum, Nick was going to make the fucker pay.
He retrieved his shirt from the living room and slipped it on along with his boots to check the perimeter of the house. Then, after every window was checked and the back door as well, Nick locked the front door, cleaned up the broken glass, and headed up the stairs to Livy’s bedroom. She lay on the bed, back toward him, her legs tucked into her body. Simon—that jealous little SOB—lay at the foot of the bed. His rumbling purr was the only sound in the room and he wondered if Livy had fallen asleep.
“Hey.” He settled himself on the bed beside her. “You okay?”
“God, I’m such a chickenshit,” she choked out. Nick sensed that she might have been trying to hold back a flood of tears. “You must think I’m an idiot.”
He thought a lot of things about Livy. She was sexy, smart, funny. Caring and tough. Never once had Nick considered her an idiot. “You got spooked. Like you said, you live out in the middle of nowhere and you don’t have many neighbors. It’s important to listen to your instincts. It doesn’t make you an idiot or a coward or anything else. It makes you smart.”
Livy turned to face him. A bitter smile curved her lips and red rimmed her eyes. “Is that your standard-issue cop pep talk for single women?”
“It’s the truth,” Nick said. “Don’t ever apologize for being afraid. Sometimes, fear is what keeps you alive.”
Livy averted her gaze. “I ruined tonight. I’m sorry.”
“What did I tell you?” Nick said. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t ruin anything. Maybe we ought to call it a night, though. It’s getting late.”
He turned to leave and the plea in her voice snapped out at him like a whip. “Nick, don’t go! Please.” Nick looked back over his shoulder to find her brow puckered, her lips a thin line. “Would”—she swallowed—“would you maybe stay the night?”
“Sure.” Nick couldn’t leave her like this any more than he could leave one of his own limbs behind. Livy needed him and he was going to be there to give her whatever she needed. He kicked off his boots, toed off his socks, and shucked his pants and shirt. He kept his underwear on—no matter how much he wanted to be naked with her in that bed, it wasn’t what this was about. Livy wanted to be comforted. To feel safe. Livy kept her back to him as she reached into the dresser by the bed and traded her long-sleeved shirt for a T-shirt. She turned down the covers and he crawled into bed beside her, gathering her in his arms.
“You can talk to me, you know,” he said as she reached over and turned off the light on the bedside table. “About anything. You can trust me, Livy.”
“My dad.” Livy’s voice pierced the quiet as she snuggled in close to Nick. “He and my mom were never married and he wasn’t around much. I guess I’ve always been a little spooked. I slept with a night-light until I was seventeen,” she added with a rueful laugh. “My mom worked two jobs, sometimes late, and I was home alone a lot.”
“That’s scary for a kid,” Nick replied.
“Yeah.” A slow, exhausted sigh escaped from between Livy’s lips. She wrapped her arms around Nick’s and pressed her back tight against him. “I feel safe with you. Thanks for staying with me.”
A knot formed in Nick’s throat and he swallowed it down. Had there ever been a man in Livy’s life who hadn’t let her down? Hadn’t frightened or abandoned her? Nick vowed as he held her close that he wasn’t going to be one of them. He hoped like hell he’d be able to keep that promise.
Chapter Ten
Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and let out a gust of breath. Livy had trusted him last night. Probably more than she’d trusted anyone in a long goddamned time. And he was about to repay that trust by betraying it. She thought he was a good guy? If she knew why he was really in McCall, Idaho, she’d change her tune pretty damned quick.
Nick had never felt so dirty. He’d always pushed the boundaries in the line of duty. Gone the extra mile to make sure that justice was served. Arresting Joel Meecum was about more than a feather in his cap. It was about making sure that the son of a bitch never had the opportunity to harm another person ever again. And that included Livy. He didn’t know how she’d ended up being the girlfriend of one of the most notorious criminals in USMS history and he didn’t care. Livy’s anxiety and fear was enough to tell Nick that whatever Joel had done to her, it had been bad. And that fucker was going to pay for it.
Jesus. Listen to yourself! Nick braced his arms on the countertop and let his head fall between his shoulders. He didn’t know for sure that it was Joel Livy was afraid of. Hell, she was on the run! Every little noise might have scared the shit out of her because she worried that law enforcement was about to knock down her door or throw gas canisters through her window. Nick gave the reason for her fear that he wanted. Not because it was the most logical conclusion, but because it made it easier to justify his tender feelings for her. It justified his wanting to protect her.
It justified all of the dirty things he’d said and done to her last night.
Nick let out a gust of breath. He couldn’t get the image of her almost naked body out of his mind or the sweet sounds she made when he touched her. Every heated word he’d spoken in her ear had been one hundred percent true. He’d have followed through on every filthy promise he’d made, too, if Simon hadn’t intervened in a fit of jealous feline rage. Nothing—not his honor, his sense of justice, his own high standards and morals—would’ve gotten in his way. He wanted Livy. Wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met. Last night wasn’t a onetime deal. It would happen again and Nick knew he wouldn’t do anything to stop it.
He needed to get this shit wrapped up before he lost not only his mind, but also the last shred of his dignity and honor. If he was lucky, he’d get a bead on Meecum, make an arrest, and all would be forgiven by his chief deputy. At worst, he’d go home empty-handed and be out of a job. Because Nick realized that there was no way he could do this alone. He didn’t have the resources to investigate Livy. A Google search sure as hell wasn’t going to cut it.
After a few deep breaths to calm himself the hell down, Nick grabbed his mug and headed for the kitchen table. He stared at the notes he’d compiled since coming to McCall that were scattered beside Meecum’s file. It wasn’t calling Morgan that had his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins. And it sure as hell wasn’t the prospect of facing the deputy chief’s anger that tied his stomach into an unyielding knot. Rather, it was what he might find out about Livy that rattled Nick to his foundation. The prospect of learning the truth about her, of shattering the illusion he’d bought into, scared the ever-loving shit out of him.
He spun his phone on the table’s surface. Fiddled with his paperwork and gathered his notebooks. Lined up his pens and pencils in a row.
Fuck.
Gut-check time. He couldn’t worry about what Livy was or wasn’t. He couldn’t bother himself with trying to unravel her motives for running when he knew nothing about them. A good investigator got answers by following leads, shaking the bushes, and getting down to business. That’s what he had to do now. Put his personal feelings aside and focus on the J-O-B. If he couldn’t do that, he wasn’t worthy of a U.S. marshal’s badge.
He snatched his phone from the table and dialed Morgan’s number. His gut churned with ac
id that burned a path up his throat. He’d accept the consequences of his actions. Whether with Morgan, his chief, or Livy. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose everything that meant something to him in the process.
“Are you calling to ’fess up about my file, Brady?”
The guy got to the point, Nick would give him that. “I have a solid lead on Meecum.” Morgan knew he had the file; Nick didn’t see any reason to verbally confirm it. “But I don’t have the resources that I need to follow it.” He didn’t think it would be so hard to admit he needed help. Nick had always been more comfortable flying solo. As a SWAT sniper, there were moments when there was nothing but him, his rifle, and the voice of the men on the ground in his ear. He’d been a part of the team, but not. The only thing he missed about that job was those moments in his own headspace. If he worked alone, he had no one to blame for his failure but himself. It made the job easier, somehow. The tightly knit team of the USMS took some getting used to. He wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable in the huddle rather than outside of it. The only thing worse than a criminal evading capture was failing someone who counted on him. He swallowed down his pride and said, “I need your help.”
“Ho-ly shit. I never thought I’d see the day that Nick Brady asked for help.” Nick clamped his jaw down to keep from saying something he’d regret. “Metcalf is going to have your ass over this, you know that, right?”
Nick let out a slow breath. “Only if you tell him.”
Morgan waited a beat before he responded, “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because you want Meecum as badly as I do,” Nick said. “Because you know as well as I do that the only place that bastard deserves to be is a six-by-six cell. And because you know you’ll get half the credit for bringing down one of the top fifteen most wanted.”
“Only half of the credit?” Morgan asked.
“You’re lucky I’m offering that much.”
