Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Levering off her, he made quick work of getting them inside the suite and then slammed her against the closed door, shoving his sturdy thigh between her legs.

  Gently, brushing some hair off her face, Alex stared at her lips, knew she was all but begging him to kiss her, and decided against it. Nah. Not yet.

  “Tsk-tsk, Mrs. Marquez. And here I was all set to forgive your current spank tally as a wedding gift.”

  “Really?” she squeaked. “You don’t have to do that.”

  He snickered. “Yeah. No shit, woman. I didn’t realize you’d end up doubling down with that naughty mouth instead of learning a lesson. Maybe spanking isn’t that much of a deterrent, hmm?”

  He watched with avid interest as a slew of unreadable expressions flitted across her face. All right. What was she really up to? Did it excite the holy hell out of him that she was so obviously creating mischief? Fuck, yeah.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do. You’ve got one hell of a blistering coming for the old count. But those last two ‘shut ups’? For being a wicked tease, they go on a new tally.”

  Her deep frown was cute as shit. She hadn’t counted on him changing the rules.

  “What sort of tally?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know just yet. Depends, I suppose, on how naughty my Irish fuck goddess gets.”

  Pressed against her as he was, Alex was quickly starting to drop the reins of self-restraint holding him in check. Enough playtime. “Put that mouth to better use and kiss your master, woman.”

  She reached for his head and held the sides of his face. “I missed you.” Her husky whisper was almost too much.

  Taking her time, she nibbled on his bottom lip until he’d had enough. He took control. It was what she wanted. Claiming her mouth with a heavy groan, he went deep. Within minutes, he was fumbling with the fastenings on her pantsuit and groaning in frustration.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” he bit out. Every route his hands took in search of skin got him nothing.

  “This would be a jacket,” she boldly replied with a whopping dollop of cheeky insolence. “And pants. That’s what the leg coverings are called.”

  “Yeah, I got that, Meghan,” he ground out. “But what’s that infernal contraption underneath? Some twenty-first-century chastity belt? “

  Giggling happily, she mussed his hair and presented him with a playful smirk. “That, my love, would be a body suit. Guaranteed to stop wandering hands. Got it off the abstinence rack at the dirty store.”

  He roared with laughter. Score one for the wanton goddess.

  IT JUST DIDN’T get much better than this. Snuggled up against the big, sturdy body of her sexy Major, his arm around her in a protective embrace as they curled comfortably together on the big living room sofa watching whatever the remote control king wanted, Meghan let the peace she was feeling spread through every cell of her body.

  Expecting to fight off his advances because she figured he’d, at least, try to get her to change her mind about waiting till after the wedding, she’d been thrown by how he explained why he wouldn’t be doing that.

  Telling her he’d rationalized on the flight to D.C. that if they could just indulge once—take the edge off, then he’d be happy. But, he said, as time wore on and he really thought about it, taking the edge off wasn’t going to make anything better and entertaining the notion felt like a fault in his character.

  Nope. He was a big boy, so he said. And grown men knew how to do the right thing … unfortunate twenty-four seven erection and all. So they simply got comfortable and enjoyed hanging out together.

  The suite had everything, including a kitchen and a dining room that seated ten. It also had a baby grand piano. After changing from the severe buttoned-up pantsuit into a familiar pair of Alex’s sweats and a Justice pullover, they sat at the piano and shared a sweet musical interlude.

  Dinner was an intimate affair. They sat close and fed each other, sipping a lovely Marquez Winery vintage, and talking quietly as married couples do. They didn’t discuss the wedding, mostly the conversation centered on Justice and their upcoming European honeymoon. All in all, it was a slice of perfection before the inevitable craziness got underway.

  “Was your dad okay with us not meeting until tomorrow?” She worried that it came off as rude that they’d wanted this time alone.

  Alex’s fingers drifted up and down her arm. “No. Not at all. He completely understood.” She liked feeling his soft chuckle her hair when he kissed her head. “Besides, he’s been away from Mom for almost a week. She and Sophie took off before him to meet up with you and Angie. Poor Dad.” He chortled with a mocking smile. “He rattled around the house and boohooed, so if you wonder where I got it from, there you go.”

  Meghan smiled and rubbed her face on his muscular chest. He’d changed and was wearing his nerd uniform. An ancient t-shirt so faded the pattern was hard to see but she knew was the design of a computer motherboard. So typically Alex. An obnoxious pair of decrepit camo sweats that she hated, but he adored covered his sturdy legs reminding her that she couldn’t win every battle with the Major.

  He smelled of the decadent port wine they shared after dinner. One of his favorites, the drink was more sultry than sweet … just like the man. She inhaled deeply. The faint aroma of the Swisher Sweet he insisted on lighting up out on the balcony clung to his shirt. Mmm. What were they talking about? She couldn’t remember.

  “Your dad is taking him on a tour of his station house in the morning.”

  “Are you serious?”

  His chest rose and fell from a chuckle, but no sound came out. “Yeah. The start of a quid pro quo that oughta be interesting. Your folks are giving mine an immersion course in Boston Irish-ness with an open invitation to experience the flip side when your parents visit Spain.”

  Mmm. God, he smelled good. She sighed. When her parents visited Spain. Mmm. Hold up. What? Picking her head up from his chest, she looked at him and blinked. “Did you say my parents are going to Spain? Was anyone going to tell me this?”

  “From what I pieced together,” he drawled, “there’s some crazy plan in the making that involves your parents, my parents, Parker’s parents, and Calder and Stephanie. In other words, the grown-up’s table.”

  “Wow.” That was all she had. Simply … wow. Some impulse she didn’t see coming made her blurt, “I don’t think your sister likes me all that much.”

  He looked at her like she was certifiable. “Are you joking? She fucking adores you. Parker says she’s like a broken record where you’re concerned.”

  He had a point. Angie was her lead cheerleader at the moment. But that was not who she was referring to. “No, silly. I mean Sophia.” Shrugging although by no means was it no big deal, she told him, “I can’t figure her out. One minute, she’s friendly and nice, and then she’s glaring at me like a TSA screener. I don’t get it.”

  He didn’t blow off her concern. She wanted to kiss him for being so … Alex.

  “Do you want me to talk to her? Find out what’s going on?” He seemed peeved but not entirely surprised. “I know she’s a tough nut to crack. Just give her a chance, okay?”

  Reaching for his face, she cupped it with one hand and smiled at his worried frown. “Baby. She has a lifetime of chances, and I mean that.”

  “Did you ask Angie to tell you about Sophie’s history? I think it explains a lot.”

  “No. The opportunity never came up. Maybe you could try?” She really needed to know what the fuck was going on.

  Switching off the TV, he threw the remote onto the sofa and stood up taking her with him. “If we’re going to get into this, I think a nightcap is required.”

  She jostled him playfully as they headed to the bar cart. “Are you trying to get me drunk, sir?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” he assured her with mock seriousness. “And then I intend to pour your sloppy, inebriated ass into a cab and have your drunk ass dropped on the sidewalk outside your parents’ house. J
ust in case they thought I was a good guy.” He shrugged.

  She howled, her laughter bouncing off the walls. “You’re gagging for that Boston beat down aren’t you, Major?”

  Swatting her behind, he leered comically. “Brought backup this time. Got the whole Justice team ready to brawl if it comes to that.”

  Oh, my god. She laughed even harder. “You poor, delusional old man,” she managed to choke out between giggles. “Are you daft? They’d have your back until the punches started, and then they’d step back and laugh their asses off while you got handed yours on a gilt platter.”

  “Motherfuckers,” he mumbled as he poured Glenfiddich into two cut glass tumblers. “You’re right, of course. Drae, that whiny pussy, is demanding a do-over on the right hook he owed me. Some bullshit about me being drunk and him pulling the punch.”

  Meghan took the glass and arched an eyebrow at him.

  “Got something to say, have you?” The taunt in his voice was easily detectable.

  She smirked, then grinned, and then giggled. “No, Master.” Meghan knew that one of the wedding toasts was going to involve a mini-bottle of Jameson’s at every place setting and let him have his little victory. He could dominate her in almost everything else, except this. Having an iron stomach and a hearty constitution when it came to Irish whiskey was just who she was. That she could drink her badass alpha under the goddamn table was the icing on her cake. The Jameson’s toast was an intentional ribbing.

  Sliding his fingers through hers, he clasped their hands together and walked them onto the balcony where the calm, soft breeze of a late April night wrapped around them. Spring was finally here. Perfect time for a New England wedding.

  They sat on a cushioned loveseat and got comfortable before she fired off questions about Sophie.

  “Just tell me … is it me? Does she not think I’m right for you? I need to know, Major.”

  “Aw, darling,” he quickly assured her. “No. Good god, no. If she’s being weird at all, it has nothing to do with me. I promise you that.”

  She took a sip and enjoyed the bite of the fragrant whiskey. Turning sideways, she slung her legs over his thighs and put a pillow behind her back. She wanted to see him while they talked.

  Alex sipped along with her and then put his glass down and started rubbing her feet. After that, the story just unfolded.

  “Sophie was the true nerd in the family. Not me. She got all of Dad’s analytical mind and an equal amount of Mom’s beauty. Some of my earliest memories of Sophie are of how awkward she was around people. It was like she had a switch. When it was just family, she was the organizer. The girl who was forty before she turned twelve. But with others? She barely held her own.”

  “What do you mean by that?” What he described could almost be anything. She needed clarification.

  Alex sighed. His hands massaging her foot almost distracted Meghan from their conversation. Almost.

  “Well,” he replied. “She had no concept of social niceties. To her, the world was black and white—she never sees the gray. If you were sick, she’d scold you about spreading germs. If you were jumping with joy over something, she’d suggest learning meditation to manage being overexcited.”

  She nodded. Over the years when she’d been a teacher, Meghan had encountered several kids like Alex described. They were socially detached, had one-track minds, and an unusual relationship with rules. Generally shunned by peers, those students presented a greater challenge than ones who simply mouthed off and misbehaved.

  “She didn’t really have friends growing up and didn’t seem to care either. She lived in a world of facts and empirical studies. Where a young girl might read a fashion magazine or subscribe to some pop culture inspired magazine, she waited patiently for the next Popular Science publication. It was a disaster in the making.”

  “In person, she’s incredibly beautiful. I was surprised because when we FaceTimed and in pictures, she always looks so … serious. I don’t think I’d ever seen her in anything but that lab coat she wears.”

  Working on her other foot now, he grunted. “It’s her shield, that damn coat. Separates her from us mere mortals.”

  Hmph. His tone wasn’t what she expected at all.

  “Anyway, life goes on, you know? I was gone by the time all the shit went down, but here’s the Reader’s Digest version of what they told me. College. Columbia. She got involved with some guy who seemed too perfect to be true. Another nerd, he was studying on a full-ride scholarship. Don’t know how they met or any of that—just know that he was a fact.”

  Meghan had a bad feeling about where the story was going.

  “Don’t know if she slept with him, although I hope for her sake, she didn’t. They were together for a year and a half.”

  “She was helping him get through school, right?”

  He looked at her kind of shocked. “How did you know?”

  She could only wince. No answer necessary.

  “Spring break, her senior year. Bunch of shitheads went on a road trip to the Florida Keys. She and the boyfriend went along. Second night there, Sophie makes a run to the store, and when she came back, the house was empty. Figuring everyone was at the beach, she handled the groceries then went to her room to change.”

  “Oh, no,” she groaned.

  “Yep. And it wasn’t just him screwing one of her so-called friends. It was him and her roommate plus another girl. Angie, who has the vulgar mouth of a hardened Marine, has been quite vocal telling my folks and me that she walked in on him fucking Sophie’s roommate while he had his face buried in some other girl’s snatch.”

  Meghan slugged down the ends of her drink. God, she hated these stories. The female cuckold. Ending up the butt of some asshole’s joke and the object of widely held derision. No wonder Sophie was so closed off.

  “They all had an enormous laugh at her expense. She’d been funding everything through her inheritance money and had been the brains behind class projects and important papers. They cultivated her trust then used her social awkwardness to create a circle of false friendships. She was crushed.”

  “Poor Sophie,” she murmured. Her heart broke for the poor girl. People really did suck sometimes.

  “Guess she was pretty shaken because she took off on her own. Nobody knows what happened after that except a week later she turned up at an emergency room in Corpus Christie, Texas. To borrow a phrase from my mom, she dropped her purse and kept on walking.”

  “Your parents must have freaked.”

  “Yeah, it was a hard time for everyone. Mental health issues have a way of turning a family upside down and inside out. Props to her for being a badass, though, ‘cause she got her degree and went on to finish a Master’s as well. But she was never the same and hasn’t, to our knowledge, ever been inclined to stick so much as her pinky toe into the friendship pool since.”

  Putting her tumbler down, she pulled her legs back and flipped around until she was sitting on Alex’s lap. She had to wrap him in a big hug, not so much for him, but for her. She hated bullies. With a passion. Tori had been bullied, and in a very real way, so had Lacey. Whenever the subject came up, she wanted to hit something. With hard-ass brothers, she wasn’t likely to be teased or bullied and the truth was, it wasn’t in her emotional makeup to take anyone’s shit. Didn’t matter who it was. If she couldn’t get busy hugging her man, she was half tempted to go off and find Sophie’s tormentor and show them how proficient she was at a smack down.

  “She has a hard time with outsiders. But she’ll come around.” On an aside, he murmured, “I hope meeting the girls won’t freak her out too much.”

  My goodness. He had a point there. She and her Justice sisters could be a tad overwhelming.

  “Hey,” she jabbered with rising enthusiasm. “She plays an instrument, right? And probably sings too.”

  “She’s a Marquez ,” he drawled. “I told you. Our parents were nut jobs about the arts with all of us. She sings, plays the piano like Elton John,
and actually, is quite the composer. When she was twelve, she wrote an entire musical based on sixties counter-culture. Had about five original songs. Angie’s too young to remember, but one year, she made all of us, Parker and the Sullivans included, put on a performance.”

  She couldn’t even imagine! My god. Twelve years old and she was composing full songs? “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” Giving her hunky lover some serious side shade, she informed him, “I know y’all have some musical interlude planned.”

  He looked at her like chocolate wouldn’t melt in his mouth. The feigned innocence when he drawled, “Have no idea what you’re talking about,” was more adorable than words.

  “Nice try, Major,” she husked before a big hand wrapped around her neck and tugged.

  “Hush now and use that mouth for a good night kiss. I think we need some serious making out to start things off right.”

  She giggled and wrinkled her nose. “Promise you won’t try anything, Major Marquez? I don’t trust myself to say no if you get frisky.”

  Alex laughed heartily. “Frisky, is it? I like frisky,” he jested.

  “I’m serious.”

  His hand on her neck gripped tight, and he bit his lip. “Relax. This is how it’ll go. I’m going to kiss you stupid. Maybe a little over the shirt boob grabbing. Possibly some hand action between your legs. Make sure I’ve got your scent on my skin before I let you run back to Daddy.”

  Meghan sobered. She didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go home and sleep in her childhood bed. They belonged together.

  “Hey,” he growled. “Don’t look like that.”

  Had he been reading her thoughts? She stared at him and swallowed hard to ward off the tears threatening to break free.

  “I need you,” she choked out.

  He laid his sturdy hand over her belly and spread his fingers wide. “And I promise you, darling, that we’re going to take that need and channel it into making a baby. When the time is right.”

  She put her hands on top of his. They didn’t say anything for a long time. They just sat there touching her flat stomach and dreaming about filling her empty womb with the next generation of the Valleja-Marquez family.