by Angel Payne
I find my place setting and sit down to watch the frozen butter rosettes start to melt, wondering when they’ll stop looking like flowers—and feel weirdly sad for when they do. People don’t like butter as much when it doesn’t look like a rose. But doesn’t it taste the same?
Yep. It’s official. I really am in hell.
Except suddenly, hell comes to a complete stop.
An all-consuming hush—interrupted by waves of fervid whispers. Then astonished gasps. Then high outcries. Even a few elated little old lady yeeps.
Lydia appears at my side. Her face reflects the same stunned curiosity as everyone else’s. “Holy shit, Em.”
“Holy shit what?” I scrutinize her. “’Dia? Are you—what the hell?”
“Stand up.” She titters a little, urging me to my feet. Doesn’t take much effort. She’s been playing tennis for nearly twelve years and her arms are like Mack Truck pistons. “Stand up, girl. Ohmigod, what’s he doing here?”
“He who?”
“I’m going to pass out. This is epic.”
“What is?”
Epic. Well, that’s one way of saying it. Breathtaking could be another. Beautiful too. But no matter how many descriptors I add to the mix, they don’t come close to the twist of my stomach, the leap of my pulse, the race of my blood, and the lightning in my heart as a flawless figure in black leather strides across the room like he owns it. Who knows? Maybe he does—but that’s the last thing dominating my mind and caressing my libido. Like every other woman in the room, my breaths are shallow and my pulse is triple its norm as he swaggers arrogantly on those custom ninja boots, his electric eyes gleaming behind that sleek Maserati mask.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
He’s here.
Part 3
Chapter One
Emma
I’m seeing this—and still not believing it.
He’s here.
In the flesh.
In public.
In every inch of his mighty, magnificent, leather-clad, muscled-out splendor.
Striding through the ballroom of the Pelican Hill Resort like he owns the damn place—yet for all I know, he does.
Because I know what everyone else in the room doesn’t.
Underneath all that sigh-inducing black glory is Reece Richards, the man with whom I’ve fallen hopelessly in love. The hero who’s not just saved me but swept me off my feet. The soulmate who has seen so much of me. The lover who has electrified every inch of me.
The superhero with whom I’ve fallen in love—in secret. But now, the man I can’t help gawking at—in the open. He’s. Here. Out in just as glaring a way at a five-star resort that, at least on the surface, isn’t a hotbed for any hoodlums.
What the hell is he doing here?
I get my answer the second Reece locks his lightning gaze on me. Dipping his head with new determination, he marches directly through the crowd. At me. Somehow, I stay on my feet, barely subduing the giddy grin on my face as a roomful of female tongues drags in his wake.
At last, he stops.
For at least a minute, we’re silent.
Stares tangling. Energies renewing. Our bond reaffirmed.
Dear hell, I want to jump him. Worse than ever before. Will he ever stop stirring this feeling through every fiber and nerve and pore in my body? Do I want him to?
He gives me the answer to those questions as soon as he scoops up my hand. His gloves are barely a shield for our heat, our need, our attraction.
Deep breath. Deep breath.
The mantra is no use. My blood heats, all but dictating me to slam him to the wall and nail him right here. The silver sparks in his eyes reveal the exact same battle.
He clears his throat. And then again. Executes a low bow with more grace than any movie prince before brushing my knuckles with his lips and zapping every one of my fingers with instant, incredible electricity. He sneaks a tiny bite to one, and my heart turns over in my chest. Three times.
“Hi there, beauty.”
Audible swoons spread through the crowd like lightning through a storm cloud. Damn good comparison, considering what he’s doing to my nervous system.
“Hi there, gorgeous.”
The murmur has barely left my lips when my parents appear. Mother’s St. John dress is perfectly smooth. Father, from whom I got my light-blond hair, deep dimples, and round face, steps forward. He grabs Reece’s hand and pumps it wildly, not letting go until the event photographer snaps at least ten shots.
“Mr. Bolt.” Father’s not going to lose his chance of milking the marketing op of a lifetime. “What an honor to have you at our humble event, sir.” Of course, the “humble” event is a regional tennis league awards dinner with movers and shakers who paid a thousand bucks apiece just to walk in the door, but semantics are trivial at the moment. “Are you a tennis fan?”
Reece nods. “I’ve dabbled. Though I’m more of a high-intensity thrill seeker.”
Father gives the line a heartier laugh than it needs. “Of course you are! Ha-ha! Yes, yes.”
Mother deftly slips into the exchange, clasping her hands demurely at her waist. “We must admit, this is quite a surprise. A pleasant one, of course.”
“I know,” Reece interjects, saving her from having to bumble through any more “charming” disclaimers. “And thank you for not throwing me out right away. I’ll be glad to pay for a ticket.”
“Oh, dear heavens.” Mother gasps. “We wouldn’t dream of asking you to—I mean, you can even sit at the head table with us, if you’d like…”
Reece raises a hand. “Oh, I won’t be staying for dinner.”
“Ah.” She smiles but can’t hide the disappointment in her eyes. Clearly, this is the best thing to happen to the tennis awards gala since three years ago, when an honoree’s brother, a Disney Channel star, attended to support his sibling. “So, what has brought you here?” She circles her head around, mouth dropping in mock horror. “Nobody here has been naughty tonight, have they?”
As laughter drifts through the crowd, Reece assures her, “You’re all off the hook.” But then his scrutiny lands on me. “Well, everyone except her.”
More stunned murmurs spread through the room. “Emmalina?” Mother stutters, as if being told the coffee bar has run out of soy milk. “Really?”
“Really.” Reece looks as if he wants to chuck the soy milk at her.
“Why?”
“Because I’m in love with her.”
My heart melts.
My limbs become puddles.
As my mother gawks.
As my father glows.
And my boyfriend? He just keeps on smirking. Then robbing me of breath as his grin beams even wider—the moment he sweeps his free hand to the back of his head, fingers twisting at the clasp of his mask.
“I’m in love with her,” he announces again. This time his face is exposed. “And I want the whole damn world to know it.”
The air leaves the room.
No. Really.
“Well, hot dog,” Father finally utters.
“Holy hell,” Mother gasps.
“Oh, sister!” Lydia’s exclamation is like a permission slip of reaction for the rest of the throng. Cell phone cameras are brandished and shouts are volleyed as walls of humanity press in on us from every side. I grab Reece harder, hoping my gape somehow communicates the thousand questions in my heart. In return, he palms my cheek with a gloved hand, his touch as tender as his kiss.
“It’ll be all right, Velvet.”
I twist a wry look. “Says who, hot stuff?”
He answers that by raising a hand into the air. At once, the room returns to silence, meaning my astounded gasp is an audible stab in the air. Even without the mask, the man brandishes special strength.
“Mr. and Mrs. Crist.” My boyfriend, looking a dozen kinds of sexy, with his thick, messy hair and leather-clad strength, pivots back toward my parents. “I’m here tonight because your daughter is worth this
. She’s my superhero, and that’s a truth the whole world needs to know.” He draws a breath to follow that up but stops himself, shaking his head, before looking out across the crowd. “You people see me doing all the flashy stuff, and you think I’m the noble one, the bold one, the badass against the bad guys.” He ticks one side of his mouth up. “But what I do is the easy game. Real heroes aren’t made of roundhouse kicks or fancy fingertips that make lightshows or dudes who lob electric snowballs from time to time.”
He turns and brings himself nearly toe-to-toe with me. Holy God, how he takes my breath away. My vision is consumed with the silver strength of his eyes, the conviction in his jaw, the loving lift of his lips.
“Heroes are people who choose more for their lives and those of others and are brave and bold and real about seeking those dreams.” He declares it in a raised voice, but it’s one of the most intimate things he’s ever said to me… One of his most meaningful gifts. “They don’t accept anything less than living their truth and encouraging that bold, brutal honesty in others—like this amazing woman has done for me.”
At that, the room erupts again—in a wild burst of applause.
I think.
There’s not much I’m conscious of as tears blur my vision and joy rushes my heart, propelling me forward. Reece’s mighty arms crush me closer, until our chests are pressed and our lips are meshed. “I love you,” I tell him once we can stand to pull apart again. All three syllables are drenched in the desire and amazement of my mind, my soul, my spirit.
“And I love you, Velvet.” He dips in again, taking my mouth more gently.
“I know. Wow, do I know.”
He grins while pulling me out of the ballroom, thanking Father for letting him “steal me away” as the dinner service begins. Before we go, I promise Lydia I’ll return in time, with Reece in tow, to see her awards, but know I won’t miss the meal one bit. What girl in their right mind has time for food when a hero in leather has just unmasked himself for her, in more ways than one, in front of two hundred people?
Once we find our way onto a walking path overlooking the ocean, Reece stops and spins me around, smashing me against him once more. Before I can say a word, his lips have descended, plunged, devoured, and dominated, tilting my balance and stealing my breath. Once I get my equilibrium back, I pull away a little, though maintain my hold with both hands deep in his hair. Doesn’t look like the man minds one damn bit. He’s full of seduction and adoration, windblown and sexy as hell.
And now someone’s sucked the air out of me.
“So,” he murmurs.
“So?” I tilt a coy grin.
“We wow worthy yet?”
I rear back to smack his shoulder but decide on a better torture—smashing my mouth back to his, parting his lips with my tongue, and not stopping until his crotch is hard and incessant against mine. When we’re breathing hard and all but mauling each other on the path, I whisper against his lips, “Wow.”
“Good.” He dips closer, cradling my hips in his powerful hold. Wind gusts over the bluff, carrying the sound of crashing waves and the electricity of the burgeoning night. “Because I want to give you a lifetime of wows, Emmalina.”
Heart stopping, yet again.
And restarting at twice its speed, snagging my breath. “I want you in my life too.”
His smile fades. He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine. “Even now?”
I grab both sides of his face and dig in my fingers, letting him know I understand the scope of the question. This is it. He’s gone public—the superhero version of a handwritten invitation to all the globe’s bad guys, especially the Consortium. He has no idea how easy he’s just made my answer, given from every crevice of the heart he’s filled.
“Yes, Mr. Richards. Especially now.”
“Thank fuck.” His exhale is a sexy growl as he gathers me close for another mind-bending kiss. As my thoughts fly and my blood heats, I release an eager sigh into his mouth—but attempt to compose my features once he lets me go. It’s hard to chastise him when he looks this damn good, but I’m fixed on giving it my best shot.
“What took you so damn long?”
He snorts. “Three days?”
“Forever.”
A wry nod. “Yeah. You’re right. Forever.” He nuzzles into my hair. “Fuck, I missed you.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“Right again, woman of mine.” Holy hell. Those words. It’s a struggle not to launch myself onto him once more, but I gulp hard, waiting for the follow-up brewing behind his stare. “I needed to take a beat. To recalibrate.”
I laugh, biting my lip. “That’s what you’re calling this?”
He chuffs. “Why not?”
“Good point.”
He takes another breath. “Before I came back to you, I just needed…to be sure.”
“About what?”
“About all of it. The way I’ve been approaching this…superpower.” His brow furrows. “The way I’ve been approaching life.”
I let a hand slide down to the middle of his chest. “You mean the life you were ready to chuck.”
“Well, yes.”
“Which was why you started going after criminals like a honey badger.”
He’s silent for a moment, caressing the curve of my waist, his fingers finally meeting at the small of my back. “I felt as freakish as a wild animal, so why not?”
I slowly shake my head. “But you made a very human decision. To make things better.”
“Atonement,” he volleys. “Hoping I’d tip the cosmic favor back my way a little bit—but that was before you came along and changed everything.”
I attempt a laugh, but it’s stolen the moment his gaze, as silver as the stars yet as tender as the moonlight, pierces into me. “Hey.” I lightly bat at his sternum. “You walked into my office, remember?”
He pulls me even closer, refitting our bodies together. “And from the moment I did, life wasn’t the same.” The wind, smelling of sea salt and night flowers, blows a chunk of his hair at the edge of his eyes. “Life was something I wanted again. And after you filled my heart, something I needed.”
I circle my arms around his neck. “Reece.” My whisper is paltry in the shadow of what he’s given me, the enormity of the life he’s made me need too. “God…Reece…”
“What is it, Velvet?”
“You’re…my more.”
“And you’re my life.” He utters it while sliding his lips within half a breath of mine, until I can feel the thunder of his heart and every electron in his bloodstream. But all too fast, his expression sobers. “This is kind of crazy. Emma…I’m…”
“What?” I prod when he chooses a harsh grunt instead of finishing his sentence.
Finally he utters, “I’m in really new territory here.”
I slide out a gentle grin. “You mean being an outted superhero?”
He chuckles before tilting up my head and capturing my lips beneath his. “I mean being in love.”
My heart skips at least three beats. I lean on tiptoe to kiss him in return. “That was a damn good answer.”
“That’s just the truth.”
“And that’s okay, mister.” I form a hand around the strong cliff of his jaw. “This is new territory for me too.”
“We’ll figure it all out.” We touch foreheads once more. “Let those fuckers come. We’ll be ready.”
I smile—from all the jubilant depths of my heart. “We sure as hell will be.”
He regards me with new concentration. “It’s not going to be easy, Velvet. This is real life. We don’t live in a comic book, where we get to skip through the tough stuff with a few boxes of ka-pows and zaps and then magically end up on the last page with the key to the city in our hand.”
“I know.” I pull on the back of his neck, taking his mouth in a long, adoring kiss. “But we’ll be together.”
He kisses me back. “Thank fuck.”
I swallow hard before our l
ips meet again, a multitude of colors exploding in the sky. A synchronized laser show flashes up to join the fireworks.
It’s beautiful. Electric. Chaotic. A little bit of insanity. A lot of intensity.
Just like our love.
Our indelible, unmistakable bond.
Weirdly, the thoughts incite a light, loving laugh as I duck my forehead against his chest. I’m close enough to hear the strong, beautiful cadence of his heartbeat layered with his quiet rumble of confusion at my action.
“I’d offer a sewing kit for your thoughts,” he murmurs, “but the best I could do was this lousy fireworks show over the ocean.”
I chuckle and lift my head. Dazzling colors reflect across his lowered face and in his incredible eyes—red, blue, amber, and violet each take their turn at transforming the features that God obviously put His best work into.
“I was just thinking that you’re so beautiful, I wish I really could draw you into a comic book.”
“Oh?” His brows jump. “Now that would be something.”
“Right? Except…”
“What?”
I bite my lower lip. “The fangirls would insist that you’re shirtless.”
“Hmmm. Well, that would mean giving the fanboys what they want too.”
Soft giggle. “For me to be shirtless?”
He leans in, letting his stare drop to my cleavage. “That’s a damn good start.”
I bask in the tingles of his adoration, even angling back a little to let him get a good long view, before prompting, “And what about you, fanboy? What’s on your ‘I insist’ list?”
He pulls me tight against him once more and continues his possession with long, sensuous strokes along my back. He glides his mouth against my neck, nipping and sucking until shivers tumble through me like the sparks still raining through the sky. “That’s a question best answered by showing and not telling.” As if the husk in his voice needs more proof, the bulge between his thighs swells against the joining of mine. “But we’re standing here overlooking the front nine, without even a bush to dive into…”
I back off a little, but only to slide my hands down, meshing all ten fingers of mine with his. “But isn’t that what sand traps are for?”
