by Jane Henry
She nodded her head vigorously.
I let her go. “Good. Then march your ass back to the bedroom and go right back to where I told you to stay.” I held her eyes. “Don’t push me, Haven.”
Rubbing her scorched ass adorably, she took off for the bedroom. I shook my head, my arms crossed on my chest, before I tucked the spoon in my pocket to take it back to my room. Sabrina wouldn’t be stirring any risotto with this baby anymore.
I found Haven pressed up against the wall as I’d instructed, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly parted. I walked in the room and went to the nightstand, pulled the drawer open, and slid the spoon inside, giving her a sidelong glance. With a shrug, I said, “Just in case.”
She bit her lip.
“You going to behave yourself?” I turned to face her, hands on my hips, quirking a brow.
She nodded.
“Good,” I said, drawing closer, my cock straining against the zipper. “I’d hate to have to punish you again.”
“No you wouldn’t.” It was a whisper, and as soon as she spoke she swallowed hard. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Running a hand to the back of her neck, I gently squeezed, then pulled her hair back so her lips tipped up to mine. “You’re right,” I whispered into her mouth. “I’d love to punish you again. Give me a reason.” Her arms went around me as I took her mouth. Fuck she tasted so damn good, like fine wine and chocolate, and I needed more of her. I inhaled her as we kissed, my eyes closing as her tongue tentatively found mine. My cock stirred, and I pulled her tighter, our lips never separating as I walked backward to my bed. Sitting, I pulled her onto my lap, her knees on either side of me.
I lifted my lips off her swollen ones just long enough to rasp out a single instruction: “Get your fucking clothes off.” With rapid, frantic movements, she lifted the edge of her blouse and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the side, then I lifted her tank top and yanked it off. I kissed the delicate curves of her shoulders, and the beautiful swell of her breasts, my mind a haze of pleasure and need. This was where I belonged. It didn’t matter where we were, Haven was home. I’d fucked up in my life, and I’d make up for that until the day I drew my last breath, but right then and there, I knew. I needed someone who would know my faults and love me as I was, flaws and all, and Haven was that woman.
“Fucking killed me sitting across from you in that room,” I ground out, twisting so that I laid her flat on her back in bed and tugged at the zipper of her skirt. I pulled the fabric down, leaving her in nothing but panties and a bra, her knees slightly open, welcoming me closer.
Her lust-filled eyes met mine and her lips parted as she whispered, “I wanted you to fuck me up against that wall.” She grinned wickedly and reached for my hair, tugging, but I captured her wrist and pinned it down to her side, claiming her other wrist swiftly. Leaning down, I pressed my body up against hers, punishing her boldness by nipping at her collarbone. When my teeth grazed the delicate skin, her body curved upward. I slid my hand under her back, moving downward to grab her ass. I could feel the skin hot to the touch when my palm cupped her full backside.
“You need to be punished,” I whispered in her ear. “I told you’d I’d spank your ass for dressing the way you did.”
She moaned, her body drawing even closer to mine. “You already punished me.” Her breath hitched, her pelvis rocked against mine, and I knew this wasn’t a protest.
“That was for disobeying me. Now I need to teach you never to dress like that again. This body’s only for me, baby. Not any other motherfucker.”
Her hands tightened on me and she let out a ragged breath when I pinched her nipple through her bra, a warning.
“Get on your knees,” I ordered, releasing her and leaning backward so she could obey. She quickly flipped onto her knees, and I placed my hand on her back so her chest fell to the bed. Without another word, I lifted my hand back and slapped her curvy ass. “This ass is mine.” Another branding smack follow the first, her flesh now a pretty pink where my fingertips met bare skin. Bending down, I kissed the pink mark. I drew the edge of her panties down, over the curve of her ass, past her thighs, then slid them off altogether.
“You ever parade around here like that again, you’ll feel my belt.” She whimpered as I gave her another slap, this time fully on bare skin, my palm landing where the curve of her bottom met her thighs. “You understand me, Haven?”
She nodded, spreading her legs, the scent of her arousal making my cock painfully hard. I wasn’t done with her yet, though, the spanking continued in earnest until I knew that every inch of her ass throbbed, and her pussy would be slick and ready. A dozen swats later, I paused, running my hand over the heat of her skin. “Have you learned your lesson?” I breathed in her ear.
“Yes,” she moaned. I slid my hand between her legs, groaning when I felt her ready for me.
I guided her onto her back and took in the sight of her with a tenderness that surprised me, the sudden knot in my throat and a tightness in my chest I’d never felt before. “Fuck, baby,” I breathed, my voice a hoarse whisper.
“Make love to me, Ethan,” she murmured.
And in that moment, I knew this wasn’t just sex, or a quick fuck, or even passion that ruled our decision, but the driving need for closeness. A bond that would forge our future and erase the past.
I slid off my t-shirt and tossed it at the head of the bed, my eyes on hers as I unbuckled my belt and pulled it through the loops. She swallowed, her eyes quickly glancing at my hands, then coming back up to mine. Forming a loop, I snapped the belt, chuckling to myself as she started and shivered, then I tossed that down and slid my jeans and boxers off.
I leaned over the side of the bed, my body pressed up against hers, to snag a condom from the bedside table. I slid it on over the tip of my cock.
I lifted a brow, silently asking if she was sure about this.
Her eyes were damp with tears as she nodded her head once. Yes.
I leaned down, held her in my arms, my cock at her entrance. “Forgive me, Haven,” I whispered, sliding into her warm, slick folds. She gave a little gasp and moan, her pelvis rocking with mine as I built a firm rhythm.
“I forgive you,” she breathed in my ear, anchoring herself on my shoulders as we moved as one. Never in my life had making love been so perfect, so necessary, our heated bodies claiming pleasure in each other. I dropped my forehead to hers at the sound of her words and her breaths became choppier, ragged, and I was on the verge of climax. She cried out as she came, her body taut at the power of her climax, and I came with her, my growl mingling with her mewls.
Her cheeks were damp with tears, and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb in silence. I knew she wasn’t sad but was overcome with emotion. I felt it, too. There was no coming back from where we’d been and what we’d become.
I rolled over in the middle of the night and wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her body against mine. We were spent from our exertion and emotions, and we’d played out every crazy sex scenario I’d dreamed up in prison. She’d gone down on me in the shower, after I’d soaped her up and fingered every inch of her from her pussy to her ass. We’d dried off and I’d made her sit on my face in bed until she came on my tongue. We’d made sweet love missionary-style, slow and easy and carefree. And by the time we collapsed into bed once again, shattered and sated, I’d made her come six times, and made love to her twice. I was vaguely aware of the doors outside my room opening and closing, and the others moving about. I cursed the lack of soundproofing in this place, but it didn’t matter. I had Haven in my bed and I wanted the world to know.
She’d forgiven the past. Now it was on us to build our future.
Seven
The next morning, I followed Ethan down the hall toward the mouthwatering smells of bacon and coffee, with my forehead buried in the back of his shoulder, protecting my eyes from the sunlight that shone through the windows. It made for an awkward shuffle, but he didn’t seem to mind
. After a long, sleepless week worrying about Ethan, and then the incredible body and soul reunion we’d had last night (and in the middle of the night, and once again this morning) I was so exhausted I could barely open my eyes, let alone walk upright, until I’d had a gallon of coffee, minimum.
Still, I couldn’t help thinking everything we’d been through had been worth it, just to feel the warmth of his hand around mine and the solid strength of his back moving beneath my cheek, to know beyond a doubt that my love for him was returned.
“I told you you could’ve stayed in bed,” he murmured, reaching behind him to grab my other hand and pull me more tightly against his back. “You need rest, baby.”
“Later,” I said into the clean, white cotton of his shirt, repeating my words from earlier. “We can rest together once you’ve debriefed the others and we’ve set things in motion.” The truth was, I didn’t want to miss a single second of him recounting what he’d seen and done in Bonneville, not only because the information he learned would help my client, but because I sensed Ethan might need my support while he told his tale.
He twisted his head and pressed a kiss into my hair. “So sweet,” he told me, like he could read my thoughts. Hell, half the time, I was pretty sure he could.
He pulled me to his side and tucked me under his arm, leaning against the hallway wall outside the kitchen. “Have I mentioned how hot you look in my shirt?”
I felt my cheeks get warm. “You showed me, remember?” I whispered, the voices and laughter in the kitchen reminding me that we weren’t really alone anymore. I’d seen nothing overtly sexy in me pulling on his button-down shirt—which was big enough to swaddle me to the thighs—along with my jeans, but Ethan had shown me how very wrong I was.
The hand wrapped around my shoulder brushed lightly over my breast, and the nipple instantly beaded beneath the lacy fabric of my bra as my eyes opened wide. I had zero resistance to this man; my desire was on a hair-trigger.
He smirked. “I figured that might get those pretty green eyes open. When we get in there, go sit at the table and I’ll bring you some coffee,” he said softly.
I shook my head at his behavior—and how pathetically well he was able to read my body already—but when we entered the kitchen, I obeyed without question. The sight of the table where he’d bent me over last night and the slight ache in my butt as I took my seat next to Caelan reminded me that this was a good choice.
The other guys had been bantering back and forth, but all conversation ceased when I sat down.
“Morning, you two,” Sabrina called from her spot in front of the stove, and I turned in my chair to smile at her. It was pretty handy having a professional chef in the house. “I’ve got scrambled eggs with spinach and goat cheese, bacon, home fries, and French toast casserole in the oven. I’ll serve it up in a minute. There’s some fresh sourdough on the table.”
I blinked. That was a shit-ton of food, and after living here for a week, I knew the Masters mostly stuck to bagels and donuts in the mornings. But then understanding dawned.
“Aw! A welcome-home celebration for Ethan!” I grinned at the other Masters as I turned back around in my seat. “You guys are awesome.”
Anson opened his mouth but shut it again after a glance at Sabrina. Xavier’s mouth twitched as he focused on his newspaper. Caelan hid a smile behind his coffee cup. Walker, of course, was the one who rushed in where angels feared to tread.
“Less of a celebration of Ethan’s homecoming,” he qualified. “More like a celebration that the two of you lasted the night.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave me a cagey grin. “You must be fucking starving after burning all those calories.”
Oh, dear God. I covered my eyes with my hand.
“Walk-er!” Sabrina cried.
I moved my hand from my face when Walker said “Ow!” and saw Caelan’s palm outstretched, like he had slapped Walker in the back of the head.
“Shut it,” he said severely. “You’re embarrassing Haven!”
“What?” Walker demanded, reaching for a piece of bread. “I was just sayin’ what we were all thinking.”
Anson’s answering snicker said that Walker wasn’t too far off the mark, and Sabrina sighed. She put a hand on my shoulder as she brought a platter of bacon and eggs to the table.
“Remind me to tell you about the first breakfast I had with these guys,” she told me, glaring at each of the men in turn. “A bunch of overgrown frat boys. It’s a wonder I didn’t change my name and head for the hills. If it hadn’t been for Caelan, I might have.”
Caelan smiled smugly, and Anson scowled. “Hey!”
“Do you deny it?” Sabrina asked, hand on her hip. Anson seemed to consider for a moment before grinning.
“Actually, no,” he said. “Just goes to show that you’d clearly fallen for my charms already.”
Sabrina laughed helplessly and went to grab more food.
Ethan sat down in the chair next to mine, sliding a steaming mug of coffee in front of me, and I sipped it gratefully. Oh, sweet caffeine.
“I think this goes to show we might need to consider upgrading our soundproofing,” Caelan suggested, splaying his big hands flat on the table. “Now that we have, ah, ladies to consider.”
“You know I don’t disagree,” Xavier said, pursing his lips in thought. “Though it’s hardly the priority right now. To put it baldly, I’d say privacy from outsiders—even contractors—is more important than privacy from each other. At least temporarily.”
“Exactly.” Walker nodded, still grinning hugely. “I say, if you’re gonna have loud, energetic, scream-for-a-higher-power sex in this apartment, you’ve just gotta expect you’re giving everyone else a show.” He winked at me, and I found myself smiling back at him.
I was by no means an exhibitionist, but it was hard to be embarrassed when the world’s biggest man-child was teasing you with that broad, white smile… and when the world’s sexiest man was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and glaring across the table like he would gladly strangle his friend on your behalf.
“You know what?” I said to the table at large. “You can mock all you like, I don’t care. I’m happy we could enliven your evening.”
Ethan squeezed me with something like pride, and whispered, “That’s my girl,” in my ear.
Sabrina nodded as she took her seat by Anson. “That’s the spirit. You can’t survive around here otherwise.”
I warmed at the idea that I’d be a part of this house, of this little family, permanently, even if it meant dealing with these guys.
“But,” I continued, “I cannot wait until you bring a woman back here, Walker. The payback will be real.”
“I beg to differ,” Xavier said, swooping in with his sudden, dry humor. “I can only imagine Walker bringing a flesh-and-blood woman back here will foreshadow the apocalypse, and I’m in no hurry to see that day arrive.”
The entire table collapsed into laughter, and Walker shook his head good-naturedly, sending a lock of his black hair into his eyes. He was a good-looking man—hell, all the Masters were—but there was a darkness in his gaze and a hint of pain behind his smile that hinted at the real man beneath the carefree facade. I wondered what kind of woman it would take to see that, and to truly understand him.
Ethan’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Ready to eat, babe?”
I grinned up at him then lifted my hand to run it through his hair, mostly because he was fucking hot and because I could. “Starved,” I answered. “I mean, there’s no denying the calorie-burning thing.”
Walker hooted, and the others grinned. But after we’d all loaded up our plates, and Caelan and Walker had refilled their coffee, it was Anson who turned the conversation from casual teasing to the subject we’d all been thinking about.
“Ethan, you have names for us?”
Ethan took a sip of coffee and nodded. “First and foremost? Stella Bianchi. The woman has all the information we need to exonerate Luis, since she helped to put him
away for his supposed crime.”
“Stella?” Xavier frowned. “Alberto Bianchi’s younger sister?”
“Yep. Thought that name might be familiar to you,” Ethan said. “Stella and Luis Rivera dated briefly a while ago. Not the romance of the century, from what Luis indicated, but she was gorgeous, and he liked her quite a bit. Problem was, Stella’s ties to her family ran deep.”
Xavier nodded. He glanced around the table and explained, “Stella and I met briefly at Robby Fletcher’s house party a couple of months ago. Alberto and Fletcher wanted to keep me out of the way while they discussed their business, so they asked me to show Ms. Bianchi a Mondrian painting that Fletcher had recently acquired.” He shrugged. “I was pleasantly surprised at how much she understood about art.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, and I saw Anson and Sabrina do the same. Xavier could be as snobby and condescending as he was intelligent and chivalrous.
“Yeah, I don’t think she remembers me quite as fondly,” Ethan said. “I met her a few years back at another of Fletcher’s parties.” He scratched his head. “I remember her having a prima donna attitude, but excellent taste in jewelry.” He took a bite of bacon and shrugged. “Fetched me a pretty penny. Now I wish I’d taken more.”
It was a testament to how far we’d come that this casual explanation wasn’t even upsetting enough to make me pause in chewing my French toast casserole. The man Ethan had been wasn’t the man he was, so if it sounded like he didn’t regret it much, that meant he thought Stella deserved it. It was as simple as that.
Xavier gave a humorless chuckle and speared a potato with his fork. “So you’re saying you’re not the person to talk to Ms. Bianchi and find out what she knows?”
“Yeah, no,” Ethan agreed. “Definitely don’t send me to deal with her. Frankly, I’m not sure any of us will be able to stomach the job after you hear what Luis told me.”
He pushed his plate away from him, and drew his coffee mug closer, nearly hunching over it. “So, Stella and Luis were dating, like I said. Her family fucking hated him, mostly for being Hispanic, or so Luis thought.” His eyes flickered to Walker, who grimaced. I guessed he’d encountered bigoted bullshit like that more than once.
