HOT SECRETS
A Dangerous Lover Novella
LISA MARIE RICE
HOT SECRETS
Summerville, Washington
Early morning, December 24
Jack Prescott kissed his wife’s shoulder and watched as she smiled in her sleep. That smile came from the deepest part of her and was just for him.
It still dazzled him, a year into marriage. She still dazzled him.
Caroline. His wife. Caroline Lake, now Caroline Prescott. The woman who’d been in his head more than half his life and now was his.
He’d showed up exactly a year ago—in her bookstore in the middle of a snowstorm—after flying nonstop for forty-eight hours from Sierra Leone. Sierra Leone had been his last mission, an homage to his dead adoptive father.
On a pirogue from Abuja to Freetown, from Lungi Airport to Paris, Paris to Atlanta, Atlanta to Seattle—and onto a tiny puddle jumper that barely made it through the wild weather, straight to Summerville. Thinking of Caroline every second of the way, the woman he’d never been able to get out of his head. While he joined the army, earned his Ranger tab, fought in innumerable hellholes throughout the world—there she’d been. Beautiful, kind, smart. The woman of any man’s dreams and out of his reach throughout his twelve long, lonely years in hard and violent places.
She’d been in his head since he was a boy in a homeless shelter, bringing him books and food and a sense of the outside world, a world that didn’t mean living with filthy crazies and violent drunks.
She’d been there in his head when he’d run away, was adopted by his father of the heart, Colonel Eugene Prescott. She’d been there through his deployments to bad places, trying to lend some order to a violent world. She’d been there over long, lonely nights in faraway hellholes, reminding him there was something in the world worth fighting for.
She’d been there so long, was so deeply embedded in his very soul, that when his adoptive father died and he inherited a fortune, he went back to where he’d been a lost boy and expected to find a married woman with kids—because what sane man wouldn’t marry someone as beautiful and smart as Caroline?
But the world was made of wusses. Caroline had lost her parents, lost all her family money, and had looked after a badly injured younger brother for the better part of a decade—and not many men would put up with that.
He would have, no question. For Caroline he’d walk across lakes of fire, climb mountains of thorns, slay every dragon there was. Gladly. A sick brother was nothing. Plus, he had plenty of money of his own.
When he showed up on her doorstep, expecting to find a married Caroline and just wanting to see her one last time before starting the next stage of his life, it turned out she wasn’t married after all and she was the next stage.
And he—the man who’d never had a family, the man who had known in his bones he’d never have a family because families were for other people—well, now he had a family of his own. Caroline. And the children they’d make.
At the thought of Caroline pregnant, his cock—already hard—turned to stone. A wave of heat washed over him and his breathing sped up.
It was the hardest thing about being married to Caroline. Everything else about marriage to her was incredibly easy. Intensely pleasurable. Around-the-clock delight.
She was even-tempered, without those mood swings that drove him crazy with other women. She was wicked-smart, with a sharp sense of humor. She was kind-hearted. Their home was beautiful, she was a fantastic cook. He’d never been as physically comfortable as he was being her husband. Everything was absolutely perfect, except—
Except he desired her so very much. All the time. It never seemed to switch off, and Jack had to restrain himself—otherwise he’d have Caroline on her back, fucking her hard, more or less all the time—day and night—and that wasn’t good.
The desire was sometimes like a low-level ache, sometimes as sharp as a snakebite, but there, always.
Still . . . it was early morning. They’d last made love the previous night, before midnight. Technically, it was another day, wasn’t it?
And if he didn’t have her right now he’d die.
There would be a point in their marriage when he’d cool off, he knew there would be—he just didn’t know when.
She was wearing one of those silky nightgowns he loved. When he slid his hand under the gown, he could feel the silk of her skin along his palms and the silk of the gown against the back of his hand.
He was spooned around her, a position both of them loved. He felt her smooth warmth all along his front, and even in sleep it felt like he could protect her. Surround her with his body, arms tucked around her middle. He felt like the dragon protecting the princess. During the day he had to let her go out into the world, of course. And he couldn’t be there all day by her side, armed and ready. Even he understood that. So all day as he went about his business, he had a low-level hum of worry about her. In the very beginning of their marriage he’d call a billion times a day just to hear her voice.
He’d almost lost her to a violent man from his own violent past, and the image of those last moments . . . the raging snowstorm, a soldier rising from cover with Caroline in his sights, finger tightening on the trigger . . . he shuddered at the memory and Caroline stirred.
She’d gently taught him that she was okay, that he didn’t have to worry about her and he didn’t have to call a hundred times a day. Violence in Summerville was rare. What were the odds of violent lightning striking twice?
Still, he insisted on giving her self-defense lessons, which she accepted and treated as gym classes. He was on a campaign to teach her firearms use but so far she’d refused with a shudder.
The imperative to keep Caroline safe while accepting that she had a life was a constant struggle.
But, by God, at night and in bed, that was when she was completely safe and all his.
His left hand cupped her thigh, relishing the silky smooth feel of her.
They liked to sleep with the curtains open. There was a full moon framed by the window, bathing the room with silvery light.
Caroline was so beautiful in daylight. Her colors came out in sunlight—the bright red-gold of her hair, that ivory skin with a faint blush underneath—but in moonlight she turned to marble perfection. Like now.
Jack watched, fascinated, as his hand slowly smoothed up her thigh, taking the silky nightgown with it. His hand was large and dark and rough, an erotic contrast to the pale smoothness of the skin of her thigh.
She was awake now, he could tell. And getting ready. The faint smell of roses drifted up. She didn’t use perfume but her soap and body lotions and shampoo were all rose-scented. When she was aroused her skin heated up, and it was like having sex in a rose garden.
His hand smoothed over her hip. Caroline gave up wearing panties to bed in the first week of their marriage, honeymooning in Hawaii. Looking back on it, Jack realized he overdid it. On their honeymoon it was as if he’d never had sex in his entire life and was making up for it now that he was married.
He’d had sex, of course. Tons of it. Just not sex with Caroline, which was something so different there should be another word for it. Caro-sex, maybe.
Looking back on that first week of their honeymoon in Hawaii, his main memories were of their eating and swimming and of his cock in her.
One night they’d fallen asleep together while he was still erect and inside her. He’d been wiped out from nonstop lovemaking. He’d just gone out like a light inside her and woke himself up when his body took over in the morning and started moving.
Now Caroline sighed when his hand smoothed over her belly, shifting her hips closer to his. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He put his lips to
the soft skin behind her ear and breathed in, trying not to sniff her like a dog. God, she always smelled so wonderful. And her arousal—ah, yes.
His hand drifted down, cupped her. She was warm and soft and starting to get excited. Jack had a keen sense of smell and could tell what stage she’d reached by smell alone sometimes.
She was starting to get ready and he was already at the starting gate, frantically revving the pedal.
Ah well, getting her to where he could enter her was always a pleasure. Concentrate on that, he told himself, ignoring his swollen dick.
Another small sigh as he outlined the lips of her sex with his fingers. “Good morning,” he whispered in her ear, then bit her earlobe lightly.
She shuddered, her entire body moving against him. “It’s not morning,” she whispered. Her eyes opened, looked outside the window where the full moon was disappearing under the sill. “It’s still night.”
“Well, I’m feeling really, really awake,” Jack said, and pressed himself against her backside.
Her smile was in her voice. “Yes, love. I can tell.”
She lifted so he could pull her nightgown up and off, flinging it high so he could watch it billow down like a parachute made of pale pink silk. He didn’t want her to wear panties because it was a barrier, but that moment in which he took off her nightgown and watched it float in the air—man. Pure sex.
“We won’t need that,” he growled in her ear, lifting her thigh with his.
“No, we won’t need it,” she whispered, taking in a deep breath. He could see her narrow rib cage rise and fall, breasts free for his hands. This was when he wished he had four of them. One to slide along her thighs, one to enter her, one to caress her breasts, one to let her soft hair run through his fingers.
Sex with Caroline was such a feast, a riot of colors and tastes and textures and scents. Each one delightful, each something to linger over if he didn’t have the drum beat of fierce desire spurring him on.
Like now.
He wanted to rush things, wanted to get in her fast. Luckily, he knew some short cuts. This past year he’d studied Caroline like a medical student studies physiology. He knew her down to the bone.
For instance, he knew she went crazy when he kissed her neck. Caroline’s neck was Pleasure Central, right after the soft, sensitive region between her thighs. But the neck was a close second.
His lips ran softly along a tendon, up and down that long, slender neck. By the second run, her sighs were starting to sound like moans. He bit her lightly, then licked her skin. She jumped and her body seemed to pulse with heat. The smell of roses intensified. He closed his eyes as he kissed her neck so he could concentrate on her soft skin and the smell of roses mixed with the scent of her arousal, a combination he was addicted to.
God, how had he not understood how much he’d been missing before? Maybe because all of this was possible only with Caroline. She was the missing link.
Soft, biting kisses as he pulled her closer, nudging the head of his cock against her softness. God, that felt good—so good he moaned in her ear and felt her contract around him, soft and wet now.
“Put me in you,” he whispered in her ear, so close his breath must have been like a caress because she shivered.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
Oh yeah.
Jack slid his hand up to cover her belly, right over where a child of theirs would grow . . .
Caroline was holding him while opening herself up and she jerked a little as she felt him suddenly swell even larger. “Wow. Whatever that thought was, hold it.”
“You bet.” Oh yeah. Caroline, growing larger and larger every day. They’d hear the baby’s heart beat at one point; she’d feel it move inside her.
Jack hoped with all his heart that they’d have a little girl who looked just like Caroline. Whatever they had, their child—or, even better, children—would for each of them be their only blood relation in this world.
He lifted her leg higher and she was completely exposed. Looking down over her shoulder, he could see two small, pale, perfect breasts; a tiny waist; flat belly; and—whoa—paradise. Puffy pink lips peeping out through ash-brown hair, her pretty hands holding him and holding herself open.
Clutching her tightly, he moved his hips forward, feeling her welcome every inch of the way. Her entire body opened to him. Her cunt, her legs, an arm reaching back. He loved this moment, when his body entered hers, when they were one, when he was home.
He always stopped at this moment simply to savor it. Inside the love of his life, part of her, whole at last.
But then, of course, his body took over. He was a guy and this was the moment when rosy, fuzzy thoughts of togetherness fled his head and all he could think about was how warm she was, how tight she was . . . it blew his mind. His brain just . . . left. And he was merely the sum total of his senses, unable to think—just feel.
When he came, Jack gave a great shout muffled in her hair. He retained just enough consciousness to fall asleep by her side and not on top of her while the rich blackness took him away.
He must have slept for a couple of hours. When he opened his eyes again the sky outside the window was pearly white, the sun behind the clouds shedding a diffuse light. The forecast was for snow late in the afternoon.
His eyes had popped open and he lay grinning in bed for a moment. He felt great. Like he could conquer the world while running a marathon and playing the piano at the same time. His body twitched and danced with energy. He lifted his head to see Caroline’s face, hoping she was awake or at least close to waking.
Nope. Out like a light.
He slid out of bed and stretched tall, King of the Mountain, then dropped for a fast fifty push-ups. Which was nothing, considering in the Rangers they’d done a hundred and fifty before breakfast and another hundred before lunch. He knew he’d give himself a good workout at his gym today; this was just to get the blood moving. Not that he needed it—his blood was flowing just fine.
A quick shower and he was by the bedside, watching Caroline sleep.
He clapped his hands, which usually worked to wake her instantly. This time she didn’t even open her eyes, just flapped one hand as she snuggled deeper into the pillow.
“Go away,” she mumbled.
Nope.
Jack shook her shoulder gently. “We have to train. There are a few new moves I want to show you, honey.”
When he’d almost lost her to violence a year ago, he’d vowed to teach her self-defense, and he had. She didn’t take the lessons too seriously but by sheer dint of repetition, she had some moves in her. He wanted to deepen that knowledge, drill it into her muscle memory so that when she needed it, if she was ever in trouble, it would come automatically.
As a soldier, Jack had trained endlessly and it had saved his life countless times. Sweat in training saves blood in battle. That had been drummed into him incessantly, and it was true.
Trouble could come from anywhere, at any time. Caroline had been born wealthy into a loving family, so her formative years had been spent far from trouble. Jack had been born into trouble. His entire life had been spent at risk and he reacted accordingly.
If this were a kind world, a just world, trouble would never find Caroline again. She’d had her fill, paid her dues—that side of the slate was in balance. But of course, life wasn’t like that. Violence and danger were everywhere and didn’t discriminate.
Twice Caroline had been in danger and had had no tools at all in her head or in her body to help herself. All the beauty and kindness and smarts in the world don’t help when you’re dealing with scum, and the world was full of scumbags.
It drove Jack a little crazy to think of trouble finding Caroline again. Because much as he tried to protect her—their home had been so revamped from a security point of view it could have been featured in Beautiful Secure Homes & Fortress Gardens—he couldn’t be there 24/7. So the only way he could keep sane was to try
to drill her in self-defense.
He was a little OCD about it, that was true. And Caroline wasn’t too motivated. That was true, too. But it was the only thing he absolutely insisted on in their marriage. Everything else was her call. The house was decorated the way she wanted it, and they ate what she cooked, they travelled where she wanted to go, they saw the movies she wanted to see. Jack was fine with it all, as long as he was indulged in this.
“Come on, honey,” he said when she didn’t move.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Jack.” There was a little whine in there, which made him grin.
“Yeah? Training stops for no man.”
“How about for women?”
“For no woman, either.”
As an answer she burrowed deeper into the nest of blankets.
Stalemate.
Nothing left to do but use the atom bomb.
“I’ll let you throw me,” Jack said slyly.
Both eyes opened, focused on him.
“Yeah?” she said, interested.
He knew enough not to smile. “Yeah.”
It was fairly painful, throwing himself to the mat, but he did it for her from time to time so she could have the feel of it in her hands and muscles.
“Twice.” She made it a statement.
He frowned.
“Twice. You’ll let me throw you twice.”
Ouch. “Okay,” he said on a sigh. “Twice.”
She gave a sunny smile and threw the blankets back.
First Page Bookstore
Late afternoon, Christmas Eve
“And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days, let it be said that of all who give gifts, these two were the wisest.”
Caroline closed the book and smiled at her audience—twenty kids who lived in homeless shelters and foster homes in Summerville and Mona, ten miles away.
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