by Cara Carnes
“Ethan,” Jen whispered.
“Get the car. I’ve got her,” he instructed. “It’s okay, Mari. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay. I swear to Christ I’ll make it all okay.”
Chapter 8
Warmth and pleasure drifted within her. The aches and discomfort she’d tried to ignore ceded to a cascade of feminine awareness. She sighed in contentment and let the sensations carry her away. She drifted on a cloud…
A hard, muscular, and hot cloud.
Mari blinked awake and inhaled the oaky musk she recognized as Ethan’s distinctive scent. She relished the smell of him permeating her nostrils as her gaze swept up the hard ridges of his chest.
“You’re awake.” His entire body rumbled beneath her, but his voice was soft, quiet.
Deft fingers ran through her hair to graze her scalp in a gentle massage. Awareness beaded along her skin as the touch firmed along the base on her neck and moved in a distinctive pattern.
M. Oh God. She squeezed her eyes closed and savored the contact, the slow sweep of his touch.
A. The top of the letter formed at the base of her scalp. She trembled from the contact there. How long had it been since she’d felt a lover’s touch? Had a man want her, not as a possession, but a woman?
R. The sweep around to form the top of the letter became a slow, almost seductive glide along the back of her neck. She opened her eyes, peering into Ethan’s. He’d be an excellent lover, the kind who was attentive and patient. Who’d make sure she enjoyed it just as much as he did.
I. She tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. She traced her finger there and slowly spelled out her request.
Breath held, she formed the first letter along the span of his throat. They were on a bed she didn’t recognize, so she assumed it was his. She didn’t bother looking around. Instead, she kept her gaze locked on his as she formed the first letter.
K. His eyebrows furrowed, but he made no comment, as if not wanting to sever the tentative bond forming between them.
I. His grip in her hair firmed. Her nipples hardened as a flare of arousal pooled between her legs. God, it’d been so long since a man grasped her hair like that. Like he was about to hold her in place to lay claim and take whatever he wanted. And give in return.
S. A low rumble ran through him as she splayed a palm on his chest. She silently cursed the thin material of his T-shirt. She held her breath as she returned her finger to where it’d begun to form the final letter. Her request.
S. The compulsion to taste him was too much as she closed the scant distance between them until their lips feathered across one another. The contact was so soft, if she hadn’t watched she would’ve thought she’d imagined it.
His grip remained, but he made no move to sever the contact, or deepen it. She’d never taken the lead with a man. Chester had been her first and only, which was a shamefully embarrassing thing to admit since he’d sucked in bed.
You’re a lousy lay. Jesus, I should whore you out on the corner just so you could learn what to do with your mouth. You’re pathetic.
The grip in her hair firmed until she opened her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d squeezed them shut.
“Mari,” he said.
“Please,” she pled, hoping he knew what she needed. Because at that point she wasn’t even sure herself. All she knew was that for the first time since she could remember, she felt like a woman.
A beautiful, passionate woman capable of enjoying the touch of a man like Ethan Davenport. A real man.
But what if she did suck in bed? God, that would be so humiliating.
No, it wouldn’t because Ethan was a kind, compassionate, and wonderful man. He’d make it okay, even if she sucked in bed. He’d never tell her. Somehow she knew that wasn’t his style.
“Don’t,” he whispered against her lips.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t let the bastard steal another second of you, Mari,” he ordered. “Your new life starts here, this second. Right here. Promise me.”
“Yes,” she muttered, trailing the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip. “I’ll promise for a kiss.”
He growled as he firmed the contact. Awareness ignited along her skin and burrowed into her as he deepened the kiss. She surrendered to his tongue, gave chase and nipped when he nibbled. The languid, heated fusion stoked embers of need left dormant far too long.
One hand in her hair and the other holding her chin, he taunted her mouth, promising sensual delights her entire body responded to. He plunged, sucked, bit, licked, and teased. Her mouth was his playground in a way she’d never experienced.
Slow, methodical.
Playful.
Commanding.
She’d always thought kissing was disgusting. Repulsive.
Not with Ethan.
A moan escaped her as need spiraled within her. Her nipples hardened to achy nubs. She writhed against his side, but the contact wasn’t enough. She wrapped her legs around his thigh and squeezed until he thrust it up until it rested against her achy core.
God, yes.
Words wouldn’t form. They clung in her throat, but she feared speaking. The hazy fog of sensual bliss they were enveloped in was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
She was desperate to not screw up.
She ground down on his thigh and groaned into his mouth. Her hand wandered beneath his T-shirt. Muscles bunched and flexed beneath her touch.
“Ethan, please.” She whispered the words against his throat when he severed their kiss. He nibbled her earlobe as she rocked against his thigh once more. She was so, so close.
“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re killing me,” he whispered.
“I need you,” she pled. “Please.”
“Look at me, Mari,” he demanded as the grip in her hair returned.
“Don’t stop, please.”
“Walking across an ocean would be easier than doing the right thing and stopping,” he said. He kissed her lips gently. Eyes open, she peered into his and relished the glide of his mouth across hers.
It was the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced. Looking into his eyes from so close, she could swear she saw straight into his soul.
“But I’m stopping this now because you aren’t ready. We aren’t ready,” he said. “Whatever this is between us is too important to rush. You are too important to rush.”
“But…” She halted her argument when he placed his thumb across her lips. She sucked it into her mouth.
Arousal flared within her when his eyes widened as she sucked his thumb. She’d never been so bold and demanding with Chester. Ethan was different, though. She felt…
Safe.
Like he’d make whatever happened between them okay.
Because she mattered.
Enough to not rush into sex.
“Jesus, Mari. You have no idea how much I want you.”
The prominent bulge against her gave her an idea, but he was right. It was too soon. She nestled back against him and drifted within the arousal he’d ignited within her.
She wasn’t broken after all. She’d once thought she was. Chester always said it was her fault, not his.
But she’d promised not to give Chester another second of herself. Somehow doing so while in a bed curled against Ethan felt…wrong. Her bastard ex didn’t have any place in her life, most especially in her bed.
“Where are we?” She looked up at him.
“My room. I was going to take you into the guest room, but you were so out of it when I carried you in, I wanted you in my bed where I could watch you while you slept, in case you had another nightmare.”
“No one’s ever worried about me like that before, except for my brother and parents.”
“Then you’re overdue,” he declared. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m going to go fix you some cocoa.”
“Okay.” She sighed when he left the bed, which felt much colder without him in it.
Without him curled ag
ainst her.
She burrowed into the sheets and inhaled his scent. For tonight, she’d pretend she didn’t have crazy a psycho ex-husband making her life a living hell. For now she was just a woman enjoying a gorgeous, sexy as hell man who kissed like a god.
Cocoa. It’d been the craziest excuse to get out of the bed, but Ethan had taken it because he was one sigh and half a moan away from saying to hell with doing the right thing. A man could only take so much, and a sexy, responsive as hell Mari was too much to resist.
He froze as voices from inside the kitchen drifted into the hall.
“Well how the ever loving tarnation do I do that?” Zoey asked.
“How would I know?” Edge asked.
“You don’t cook?” Zoey asked.
“Does ramen count?”
“Fine. Vi, what am I doing wrong?”
Edge laughed. “You think she’s any better at cooking than I am?”
“Seriously? You are two brilliant women, the fiercest back office operatives in existence. You’ve led entire armies into battle, and you’ve never failed on a mission,” Zoey said, then paused. “And neither one of you can cook?”
“Nope,” Quillery said.
Ethan smiled and leaned against the open entryway to the kitchen. Milo sidled up and leaned against the other side. The three women had their heads pressed together and were peering into a bowl of what he assumed was flour, since almost an entire bag of the white substance coated their granite countertops.
His smile deepened as he looked at his OCD twin. To say he was a master chef was an understatement. He’d inherited their mom’s passion for cooking more out of necessity than desire at first. Back when they’d first escaped their father, she’d been in good enough shape to cook and tend to them.
Within a couple years, though, the simplest task of fixing eggs proved disastrous. Ethan shoved the unwanted memory away and focused on the three women. It was damn near three in the morning.
“I know. I’ll call Ellie. She can bake anything,” Zoey declared.
“Don’t you dare call her,” Edge ordered. “She’s asleep.”
“So?”
“She’s not an operative, Z. She’s the Office Manager. We don’t get to call her at three in the morning because we can’t bake chocolate chip cookies.”
“This is nuts. Tex put us in charge of getting the parents. Big freaking whoop.” Zoey sighed long and loud, then peered into the bowl. “We’ve fought drug cartels, found two kids in millions of acres of woods, taken down the biggest, nastiest black ops groups in existence, and we can’t make a dozen cookies.”
“Only a dozen?” Edge rubbed her belly. “I was thinking three, maybe four dozen.”
Ethan smiled. She was pregnant. The barbecue and get-to-know-each-other end to the exhaustive day had been tabled for another time, but he’d put enough pieces together throughout the day before the police showed up at Mari’s work place.
She and Vi were married.
Edge and Quillery. The Quillery Edge.
Their system had kept the locals off their asses and would ensure Mari and all the others Counterstrike protected were safe. He looked at his brother, motioning toward the disaster the women had made of their kitchen.
But a phone was ringing.
“Hello?”
“Ellie?”
“Yeah?” The voice was mumbled and confused, from what Ethan assumed was sleep.
“We have a critical mission we need your help with. I think we have everything we need, but how do we make chocolate chip cookies?” Zoey studied the crap splayed around her like she was about to declare war. “We need slow, clear, and concise instructions. We’re making these for a woman whose been through hell, got out, then got dragged right back in. She’s missing her mom and her cookies. This is on you, chica.”
Damn.
This was for Mari.
He wasn’t a master chef like his brother, but he was passable. He could sure as hell follow instructions online for cookie making. How hard could it be?
“Jesus,” Milo muttered. “Let’s go in before they blow up the oven. How is she?”
“Strong as hell, determined. Exhausted.” He sighed. “Amazing.”
“You’re in deep quick.”
“Yeah, but I’m not rushing her or us. We’ve got time after we get her through this mess.”
“She’s worth waiting for,” Milo said.
“Yeah, she is. Let’s get in there before they declare war on our kitchen. I heard they’ve never failed on a mission. Cookies for Mari can’t be their first failure,” Ethan teased.
The women turned as a unit when he and Milo entered the fray. Flour was everywhere. The women’s faces, the floor. The ceiling.
“How did…” Milo bit off the question as he peered up at the vaulted ceiling.
“I tried to sift the flour with the blender. That didn’t go too well,” Zoey admitted.
“You don’t need to sift flour for cookies,” Ellie said. “I’m forcing you three into a cooking class when you get back.”
“No, you aren’t,” Vi said.
“Yeah, I am. Addy and Kamren will make you come.”
“Sorry they woke you, Ellie. We’ll take it from here,” Ethan said as he pushed the end call button and set the phone as far away from the flour zone as possible.
“What the hell did you do that for? Now she won’t answer when I call her back. She’s the best baker I know. She makes homemade jellies in little jars and shit like that. She could talk us through cookies while in a coma.”
“These are for Mari?” Ethan asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah,” Zoey said. “Mostly. Mary’s eating for two, so the little peanut needs at least a dozen.”
Milo chuckled.
“Dylan told you to stop calling our baby a peanut,” Mary said.
“Well he’s not here and I think it’s adorable. And it’s not like I can call Vi’s little Jud a peanut when she starts baking him ‘cause I’m not calling Jud’s kid anything cute. Or little. He still scares me,” Zoey admitted.
“He’s harmless,” Vi said.
“Can we please move past talking about the baby and get the cookies made? I’m hungry.”
“More like hangry,” Zoey muttered. “Okay, fine. You two think you know what the hell you’re doing? Prove it. Let Operation Cookie Dough commence.”
Ethan chuckled and looked at his brother. “Guess we’re officially tagged in.”
Chapter 9
Cookies were everywhere. Mari tentatively followed a wary June Bug into the kitchen and looked around at the piles and piles of cookies. Sugary goodness hung in the air. A faint white cloud drifted within the rays of the sun coming in from the window along the back wall. Was that flour?
She looked up at the ceiling and smiled. A film of white coated the vaulted ceiling. She tiptoed past the women passed out atop one another much like a pile of puppies. Suitcases sat near the garage entryway, which Mari found strange. She supposed they’d brought the supplies in them.
She snatched a chocolate chip cookie from the massive mound and took a big bite. It wouldn’t be as good as Mom’s, but it’d do. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind that she’d taken one. Shock rolled through her as she chewed.
Mom’s secret ingredients.
Cinnamon. Mint.
How did they know?
“Marisol.”
Mari spun as shock turned to outright joy. She screamed and ran toward her mom and dad. They grunted with the force of impact but squeezed her tight. Her damaged ribs hurt, but the grip eased quickly enough for her to breathe. Tears streamed down her face as her mom and dad kissed her and whispered consoling words at her in a mix of English and Spanish.
“You should have called us sooner,” her mom admonished as she pulled away.
Mari had inherited her mom’s short stature. The woman stood at four foot eleven, but swore she’d once been five foot two. Tears pooled in her mom’s eyes.
And Dad.
“No, you aren’t. But you will be.”
“How did you get here?”
“A very nice woman phoned us and told us what all was happening,” her mom said. “Never again, hija. Never again do you keep something like this from us.”
“It’s not ever happening again, Mrs. Santos,” Ethan said as he entered the kitchen.
“Ah, yes, you have told us so, and I believe you.” Her mom smiled and patted Ethan’s cheek. “Come, I fix breakfast. Cookies can wait.”
Mari wiped away the tears of joy and looked up at Ethan. “You knew about this?”
“Yeah. The Arsenal women are responsible for most of this, including the mounds of cookies.”
“Erm, no. We’re responsible for the disaster zone your kitchen was before you and your brother came down and rescued Operation Cookie Dough,” Zoey corrected as she lifted June Bug and gave her belly scratches. “Then your mom arrived and showed us how to add her secret ingredients.”
Mari smiled. Momma had a special skill for cooking, one Mari wished she’d inherited. Operation Cookie Dough. She glanced about the room, over to the three exhausted women on the floor. They’d been making cookies. Why?
“We wanted to surprise you,” the brunette said. “I’m Mary, by the way. This is Vi. I don’t think we’ve met yet. You were pretty out of it last night. Did you sleep okay?”
Mari blinked and nodded as Ethan touched her back. “They’re with The Arsenal. They’re helping Tex with the electronic surveillance investigation into the murder.”
“Right. The murder.”
She’d somehow almost forgotten that someone had murdered the man who’d broken into her home and hurt her. She looked over at her parents and noted the way her father cocooned her mom along his side, much like Ethan had her just now. Mari leaned into Ethan’s powerful frame.
Despite the harrowing ordeal they were all enduring, the moment was almost perfect. The only person missing was Joseph. Mari needed to send him an email. No matter where he was, or how busy he might be, he always tried to check his email whenever he could. He’d infrequently be able to Skype, or he’d pop into messenger and surprise her.
