Mission_Improper

by Bec McMaster

some sort of growl deep in his throat, but then this

  was Byrnes. Caleb Byrnes, who kept his emotions

  locked away under lock and key.

  "No, I didn't," he shot back. "None of this

  started with any romantic intentions. I'll concede

  that. Passionate ones, yes, but not romantic. You

  drove me crazy, Ingrid. You haunted me. And I

  wanted you. But I didn't want forever."

  Her shoulders dropped, almost in relief.

  Byrnes took another step toward her, closing

  the gap between them until the backs of his fingers

  brushed against her shoulder. "But I was lying to

  myself."

  Ingrid's gaze shot to his in shock.

  "I kept telling myself that sex was all this

  was, as if I could somehow convince the part of

  me that knew better." A hand reached out and

  pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. As cool

  as marble, his hand curled against her cheek,

  cupping her face. "And I almost believed it. Until I

  found you nearly torn apart in my mother's room.

  Until I watched a vampire chase you out on a

  bridge with an explosive device strapped to its

  back. I can't pretend that this—what lies between

  us—means nothing to me. If I look at us from a

  rational perspective, this doesn't make any sense.

  We're a disaster waiting to happen." His face

  twisted as he grimaced. "But the idea of not having

  you... of not being with you.... I couldn't think of

  anything worse. And so I've tried not to be selfish.

  I've tried to step away and let you be, but I can't do

  it anymore." That hand curled behind her nape,

  dragging her closer to his body, until his forehead

  brushed against hers and his breath caressed her

  lips. "I want you, Ingrid Miller. And I don't know

  where this decision will take us, but I do know that

  I can't deny myself any longer. And if you think this

  is just about a bet, well... you'd be wrong. I want

  you, and I want all of you. And I don't know what

  to do with it."

  Ingrid's hands curled into the lapels of his

  shirt as she held on for dear life, whilst everything

  she'd known shattered into dust.

  Byrnes wanted her.

  Not just for sex.

  Forever?

  "Say something," he murmured, drawing back

  just enough to look at her. "This is possibly the

  most terrifying moment of my life."

  A shaky breath escaped her. She kept trying to

  sort out the puzzle pieces of their relationship, for

  it was easy to relegate it to little more than

  physical and not think anything more. Or no, not

  easy. Safer.

  She didn't feel safe anymore. She felt like the

  ground had dropped out from under her feet. "Are

  you serious?" She pushed away from him and

  paced past the window, dragging a hand through

  her hair.

  "Deadly.”

  Ingrid swallowed. How could she do this?

  How could she risk it? “Damn you, I’ve lost

  everything. I can’t—”

  “I know you lost your family, Ingrid.” He

  followed her. “I know I can’t replace them. But

  perhaps we could create something new together.”

  Something new. It was so tempting.

  “You’re not the only one who fears the

  future.” He laughed faintly. “Do you think that any

  of this was planned? Do you think that I’m not

  scared that I won’t measure up? I know nothing of

  romance. I know nothing of being... being a

  husband. Even a lover. But I know that I want to

  try. I know that I can't walk away from you.”

  Ingrid swallowed. Those words.

  "Give me your third challenge," he demanded,

  his words a rasp. A tremor ran through him, as

  though he repressed himself.

  And suddenly, a part of her didn't want him to

  hesitate. Ingrid met his eyes, seeing the need in

  them, the fierce fury. All she'd ever wanted was to

  see Caleb Byrnes ruffled, to drive him to the point

  where he lost his mind.

  And now she had it.

  I'm scared, she'd once said to Rosa.

  That's how you know its real, had been the

  reply.

  And it was real. She couldn't stop running

  from this. Couldn't pretend that Caleb Byrnes didn't

  make her heart beat faster, and hope spread its

  wings within her chest. Here was a man that she...

  loved. A man that she could make a future with, if

  only she dared.

  So be it.

  Ingrid tipped her chin up, her decision made,

  and shrugged out of the navy velvet coat she wore.

  It hit the floor, and his gaze followed it then jerked

  back up to hers.

  "The challenge is this: show me what it's like

  not to feel so alone," she told him.

  She wasn't afraid anymore; Byrnes always

  spoke the truth. He meant this.

  Ingrid took a step forward, sliding her hands

  up his chest and the sleek leather of his coat. "Fill

  up the empty spot inside me." Her lips grazed his

  ear and she bit his lobe. "Be mine, Caleb. For

  tonight, for all the nights that remain. Forever."

  "Challenge accepted," he growled, and caught

  her by the hips.

  Their mouths met as Ingrid locked her long

  legs around his waist, her arms sliding around his

  broad shoulders.

  God, he was strong. She clasped the back of

  his muscled neck, her tongue darting against his as

  he strode toward the side of the room. Byrnes

  kissed her back as though he thought she was going

  to be taken from him; as if this spell could break if

  they had a moment to think it through.

  She didn't need that moment. And this spell

  was hers, damn it, her dream to take in both hands.

  Nothing would deny her. Not anymore.

  I love you. She said it with a kiss, not quite

  daring to put it in words. And he answered in kind,

  his mouth a harsh, desperate claiming. You're mine,

  his lips told her.

  Byrnes set her on the vanity, wedging his hips

  between her thighs. Rough hands slid up her

  corseted waist, the pads of his fingers grazing the

  smooth slope of her upper breasts. "Jesus," he

  rasped. "How's a man to think...?"

  "That's the point." She nipped at his mouth,

  kissed him again, harder, her hands stripping his

  coat off his shoulders. "You're not supposed to be

  able to."

  His coat hit the floor. Byrnes's lips slid to her

  jaw, the rasp of his stubble grazing her throat as

  she tilted her head back. A shudder ran through

  him. "I'm a blue blood, love." His hands stilled on

  her waist. "The second I stop thinking is the second

  all the darkness runs to the surface." His lips

  nuzzled at her throat, sheer want shuddering

  through him.

  Ingrid paused. She knew what he was

  suggesting. "You want my blood."

  Those fingers curled into iron claws as he

  grasped her hips. "It's not that simple." The breath

 
exploded out of him as he tore his face from her

  throat. "It seems to be more of an urge to mark

  you... as mine. I've never drunk from the vein

  before. Never really wanted to."

  A little thrill tore through her, and her nipples

  hardened into points. It took all of a second to

  make her decision. Byrnes wanted this, but feared

  the loss of control. And she found she rather liked

  the idea of him marking her. "Do it," she

  whispered.

  He hesitated.

  "Do you think I can't handle you at your best?"

  She curled a fist in his hair, and forced him to look

  at her.

  Those icy blue eyes were glazed, pinpricks of

  darkness growing in them. "I know you can handle

  me, anytime you want." Then Byrnes turned those

  clever fingers to her armored corset and the thin

  chemise she wore beneath it. "Stop me if I hurt

  you."

  A shiver ran through her as he kissed his way

  down her throat, pausing at the lace edge of the

  chemise. "You won't hurt me."

  Then he was dragging her chemise up, tugging

  it over her head until her breasts were free, round

  and heavy, swollen for his touch.

  "Jesus." He curled his hands around them,

  filling his palms with her breasts. "I forget how

  beautiful you are sometimes. And then it takes me

  by surprise all over again."

  Ingrid dragged his mouth to hers. He might

  claim he knew nothing of romance, but his blurted

  truths filled her heart with joy. She arched into his

  touch, the sensation of his hands on her whispering

  through her blood. Then his mouth was there,

  sucking gently on her nipple. Ingrid groaned,

  sliding her hands through his hair.

  "Yes. Please." She bit her lip. "There."

  Byrnes knelt and stripped her trousers from

  her legs, tugging them down over her sensitive feet.

  Ingrid thrust her foot against his chest, pinning him

  there as he looked up with blackened eyes. The

  hunger had him in its grasp, but he smiled, as if

  challenging her to relent. And she did.

  She wanted this too much. Her breath came

  hard and fast, wetness slick between her thighs.

  "Do it," she whispered. "Take me. Claim me. Make

  me yours."

  Byrnes pressed forward, her knee caught up

  between them. Suddenly he was the one in charge,

  locking her knee against his chest as he dragged

  her other leg around his hips. The heat of his

  erection rasped against her drawers as he showed

  her in no uncertain manner how much he wanted

  her. "As my lady wishes."

  Then he tugged his knife from the sheath at his

  hip. It kissed her throat so lightly, so sweetly, that

  she barely felt the sting. And then his mouth locked

  over the wound, a gentle suckling sensation that

  swiftly turned to fierce desire.

  Ingrid cried out as that sensation speared right

  through her core. Jesus. She hadn't expected this. It

  was like lightning through her veins, like setting

  fire to oil, as each suck of his mouth pulled

  directly on the heated flesh between her thighs. The

  connection between them was intense. She felt like

  she truly belonged in that moment, belonged in his

  arms, belonged with this man.

  And suddenly, it wasn't enough to be merely

  marked like this.

  "I need you," she gasped, and thrust her hand

  between them, finding the buttons to his tight

  trousers. Byrnes made a grunting sound deep in his

  throat, as he swallowed her blood.

  "Yes," he breathed as she tugged them open.

  His cock surged into her hand, hungry for

  attention. Ingrid curled her fingers around it and

  squeezed, then she was guiding him between her

  legs, tearing the slit in her drawers apart. Feeling

  the blunt head of his cock slick through her

  wetness.

  Byrnes sucked hard at her throat, and Ingrid

  threw her head back. Everything ached. A

  bittersweet sensation that blew her mind. She felt

  like she was going to explode.

  Then he was pushing his way inside her, inch

  by heated inch, working into the tight slickness of

  her sheathe. "Please," she found herself saying.

  "More."

  The first full thrust took her by surprise.

  Sweat gleamed on her skin, and her muscles

  locked tight, as though she never wanted to let him

  go.

  "Oh," Ingrid gasped, her nails curling into his

  upper arms, as the storm beneath her skin

  threatened to tear her apart. "Oh, my God!"

  She had forgotten the rumors: the chemicals in

  a blue blood’s saliva could sometimes bring a

  woman to orgasm. Another hard suck at her throat

  brought her to the edge, hovering there, on the

  precipice of the fall. Byrnes thrust again, and it

  was enough to shatter her.

  Ingrid gasped, bucking in pure bliss, her

  sheath tightening around him and clamping down

  hard as she came. It exploded through her as though

  she'd been struck by lightning, until she was

  nothing more than wild abandon, pure need.

  "Ingrid." Byrnes thrust hard, lifting his face

  from her throat as she dug her heel into the cheek

  of his arse as if to urge him deeper. "Jesus. I can't

  —"

  And then he lost control himself, one hand

  clamping the back of her neck, the other her hip, as

  he pounded himself into her.

  It was wild and furious, and she reveled in it.

  The vanity beneath her hammered against the wall

  until Byrnes caught her up with a growl and half

  spilled her onto the bed.

  "Mine," he growled, thrusting home and

  filling her.

  "Mine," she corrected, and he seemed to like

  that even more, as he captured her mouth in one

  final, fierce coupling of tongues.

  She dug her nails into his spine, clenching all

  of her inner muscles around him. Byrnes growled.

  Their eyes met, and then he gasped as he came

  inside her. One last final thrust and Byrnes's head

  dropped, his forehead resting against hers. "Jesus,"

  he breathed harshly. "You... You're amazing."

  Ingrid collapsed against the sheets, gasping,

  her entire mind a white blaze of sensation as they

  shuddered together. Destroyed. Utterly destroyed.

  She had the vague feeling that she was still

  half wearing her drawers, and Byrnes’s leather

  trousers were around his knees. They were a mess,

  the both of them. Sweat-slicked and breathing hard.

  Ingrid laughed as she met those startled eyes,

  unable to stop touching him, each stroke so gentle

  that he half collapsed on her again.

  "When I was dreaming of this," he told her

  with a groan, "I thought I'd last longer than a green

  lad on his first tup."

  A smoky laugh shivered through her as Byrnes

  curled against her, his chest heaving as he sought to

  regain himself. "Oh, Byrnes. Whoever tho
ught that

  Mr. Control would lose himself entirely when it

  came to the deed?"

  Byrnes lifted his head, that evil glint back in

  his eye. "Is that another challenge, Miller?"

  Ingrid stroked her fingers down his chest in

  lazy abandon. She felt like purring. "Think you're

  up to it, Sir Leather-britches?"

  This time the growl in his throat had nothing

  to do with claiming her as he slid between her

  parted thighs, his cock growing hard against her

  leg. "Ingrid Miller, I think we need to prove just

  who, precisely, has no control...."

  His mouth slid down her skin, his lips

  capturing one peaked nipple between them.

  "Starting here, I think."

  Ingrid shivered as he suckled hard. Her eyes

  rolled back in her head in pleasure. "Challenge

  accepted."

  AS THE MOON slid across the sky, Byrnes simply

  stroked his hand through the cascade of honey-

  brown hair that smothered his chest.

  It was surprising to realize how enjoyable

  this moment was. Ingrid was heat and warmth in

  his arms, soft curves pressed against him, and her

  breath whispering over his bare chest. He knew

  she was awake. Occasionally she shifted a little,

  but there was joy and peace in the silence between

  them. At least there was until she broke it.

  "What did you mean, that you're afraid to

  think of the future?" Ingrid murmured.

  Byrnes's hand paused in her hair, his throat

  growing tight as she threw them straight into the

  conflict that he'd been putting off. Coward. "I was

  speaking of the unknown."

  "Of me?" Her voice dropped to a mere

  whisper, and he heard doubt there.

  God, no. Byrnes shifted until he lay on his hip

  and shoulder beside her with her head nestled in

  the crook of his arm. Bronze eyes looked up, met

  his. "Not of you. You're the one thing I don't

  doubt." He kissed her mouth, a gentle caress. Then

  paused. "I never thought that there would be

  someone for me. I never dreamed of what that

  would be like, or the complications involved."

  "Are you saying I'm a complication?" She

  arched a brow and bit the skin covering his biceps,

  and relief filled him. No doubt in her eyes. Not

  anymore.

  Byrnes rolled over her slowly, resting on his

  forearms as he looked down at her. Time to plunge

  right into the heart of this. "You want children."

  Ingrid froze and glanced up from beneath dark

  lashes. "And you don't?"

  "I don't know what I want. I don't know... if I

  would be a good father. It's as I said. I never