by Beth Mikell
As his words sunk in, her heart thawed, twisting her into warm heat. “I’m staying,” she panted, unsure what she were committing herself to, yet his emotion and possession more than her hollow existence. She wanted to try.
He leaned closer, his expression fierce and demanding. “This isn’t a game for me. Be sure.”
Ivy wiggled her head in a tight nod, his hold on her hair nearly painful. “I’m more than sure. Please…”
He sagged against her, releasing a tight exhale as he rested his forehead against hers. “Do you have any idea how much I care about you?”
“Carson.” She bit her lip, his words making her tremble. While she couldn’t imagine, she couldn’t let the hope fade either. She wanted him, wanted everything he’d give her.
“I know it’s too much for you, right now. I know you can’t imagine it, but I really love you, Ivy. I’ll do anything to keep you safe and make you happy.” He covered her mouth with his hand, stilling her reply. “No, don’t say anything. Perhaps one day you’ll feel it too, but for now… just be mine. Always be mine.”
Her lips quivered and her insides shook. “Yes.”
He caressed her face with the back of his hand, his eyes full of emotion. “Let’s go upstairs, Midnight. I need to be inside you.”
God, her heart lurched, filling her with desire as the ache settled in her center.
****
Carson stripped them both, sure and gentle. The reverence of his touch heartwarming, tender and something close to pain inside sensual anticipation. He stroked over her skin, a man starved. He laid her across his bed, his eyes filled with hunger and admiration.
“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment?” He pinched her nipple between two fingers, her gasp a delight, and felt bone-deep.
“Carson.” She arched against him, reveling in his touch. He had to know she wasn’t playing games now, and she wouldn’t leave.
“Midnight, you’re not only mine. You own me, did you know that?”
Ivy shook her head, her eyes shutting against the pleasure shooting through her veins. “Please.”
“Why did you leave me?” he asked gruffly.
Her eyes shot open. The pain mixed lust in his eyes was something dark and dangerous. “I… was afraid, baby. Afraid of you—afraid of myself. I’m sorry.” She cupped his face, slipping her thumb over his lip. He sucked it into his mouth, pulling hard. The suction settled deep in her center. “Carson, forgive me.” Tears stung her eyes, the emotion emanating off him more than she could stand.
He grasped her hands, linking them with his own, and his blue gaze stormy and feral. He kissed each before raising them over her head, settling between her thighs. “Don’t cry, Midnight,” he breathed, his lips trailing from her ear to her lips. “Never cry.” He brushed her mouth. “Never be afraid.” His tongue slipped between her lips, plundering deep.
She moaned from the intensity, pinned from above, yet fired from inside. He moved deliciously through her mouth, while she bucked against him, aching to touch him. However, he even held her immobile, tunneling through her moist depths with tender precision, his taste a complete mixture of spicy and intoxicating.
“Grab the pillow, Midnight,” he whispered against her lips. “Don’t let go.”
Ivy complied so tortured by his hands sliding down her body, his touch exploding the fine edges of nerves at erect attention under the surface. His mouth danced down her throat, over her collarbone until her breasts. She groaned against his marauding tongue, twisting against the pleasure he laved over her tight nipples as his hand moved lower, hell-bent in further seduction. Ivy ached to touch him and release a measure of buildup tensing her body, but no, she’d listen to him. She’d accommodate his wishes if it killed her, fisting her hands tight into the pillow.
“Carson.”
He shifted, allowing himself easy access to what he sought, pelting her clit with his thumb. He raised his head, meeting her stormy gaze. “What is it Midnight? Tell me.”
“I… want you so much.” He circled her deeply, she cried out. “Please.”
“God, how I’ve waited so long for you—like this, and all mine. You have me, Midnight. Now, feel me and don’t let go.”
Wound tight, her body strained within liberation at his expert hands into the most powerful orgasm, toe curling, and breath stealing. She shook as he continued to work her, his mouth replacing his hands. Warm heat sang through her blood, and a deep shiver rippled through her body, her hips moving against him as her hands clawed the pillow ready to shred it. She’d never flown this high—not even their wedding night compared.
Inside a guttural rush, Carson surged up against her, filling her in one easy slide. “Hold on to me!”
They both groaned in unison, their eyes locking—desire filled and wanting.
“Never leave me, Ivy…” The anguished words tore out his mouth as his powerful body shook.
She met him fast—thrust for thrust—caressing up his muscular back. “Never leave… never!”
“You’re mine.”
“Always… baby… always,” she promised, her body tensing again as he pulled the layers of orgasmic pleasure from her writhing flesh.
Carson shook his head. “Not good enough, Midnight. I want to know… how.”
Inside a throaty cry, Ivy forced him off her, pushing at his shoulders until he fell back on the bed with a grunt. “Show me what you want, Midnight,” he whispered.
Ivy took his hands, linking with hers and lifted her hips up, sliding back down with a tight moan. “This is what I want. This… you… everything,” she rasped, setting a rhythm, and taking his hard length deep inside her body. She loved the fullness. How every slide down on him made her shiver and every lift upwards prickled her with a plea for more. She sucked in a lungful of air as Carson arched into her thrusting hips.
“Carson… Carson.” Every sense open to him, using his hands as leverage. The feel of him heavy and rigid, sinking down with languid sexiness beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She moved against him, hot, wet, and abandoned, every slide of him banished old demons and all her aloneness.
“Now, Midnight! Surrender!”
She flew and he met her, calling out her name as white-hot waves encircled them in a hard climax.
He gathered her into his side, kissing her damp brow. “Sleep Midnight… this will be a long night. This is only the beginning.”
Chapter 4
A month later, Carson and Ivy slipped into a routine, easy, full, and often beyond expectation. They learned. They gathered. They explored one another in every way, leaving no goal unspoken, no inch of flesh untouched, and no dream unvoiced. It was as if they sat on life’s happiness button, zooming through each day, taking nothing for granted, while shaping the most unlikely relationship out of pure hedonistic wonder.
During the days, they parted their time between public ceremonies, charities, and dedications—everyday their picture offered up to the media frenzy as the most likely couple to save the world. By night, they shut the world out in Carson’s high-rise apartment, feasting on love’s gift without a single glance behind.
Monday evening, Ivy sat in her undergarments placing the final touches on her makeup, waiting for Carson to arrive home from the office. She was happy and content, more than she could ever imagine, yet she hadn’t spoken the words of love. Carson did, often, but she refrained, finding the words not enough. However, tonight, after their fundraiser, she’d tell him.
As if on cue, he appeared in their bedroom the epitome of handsome in his charcoal gray three-piece suit, his blue live-wire gaze alight with heat. He moved with panther like grace, bending down to brush his lips over hers, his hand caressing down her cheek.
“Midnight, I missed you.”
Ivy threaded her hand through his luxurious dark hair, a soft smile upon her lips. “Let’s get naked and you can show me before we leave.”
He grinned full of sexy, pulling her up into his arms. “I love the wa
y you think, Mrs. Wilde.” Carson nudged between her thighs, lifting her up against his hard length. “Would you be interested in knowing I cancelled our attendance at the fundraiser tonight? I want to order Chinese food, neck on the sofa while watching some lame TV show. What do you think?”
He looked so boyish, so charming that she chuckled, her heart full. “Baby, I love the way you think, too. Let me change—”
The phone rang.
Carson closed his eyes, squeezing her closer. “Damn. I’ll get it. Then we’ll start again. Don’t wear too much.” He winked, smacking a hard kiss over her lips, and then he was gone.
She made short work of her undergarments, yanking on a pair of gray yoga pants and a black halter-top made of soft cotton, her flat stomach mostly bare. She padded downstairs, finding Carson bent over the sofa, his head bowed and dragging in a deep breath. Instant fear snaked through her.
“What is it?” She ran a hand over his tense shoulder, worried.
“The FBI—they’re here. Dammit, they’re on their way up now.” He straightened, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell is this? I’ve done everything, Ivy. I’ve…” His ashen face weary and afraid.
She pressed closer, working her hands up his lapels. “Shh, don’t. Let’s see what they say before we panic.” Yet inside, fear beat a different animal as she choked down anguish. Was this it? Was this her last free moment with her husband?
He nodded, loosening his tie, pulling it off and stuffed it in his suit pocket.
Ivy drew a deep breath. “Before they arrive, you have to know something.” She rushed on. “I love you, Carson. I never expected it, I never dreamed it, but I love you. If this is my last chance to say it—you have to know. You—”
A harsh growl vibrated his throat as he jerked her into his arms. “Midnight, your timing sucks, but God, I love you, too.” His lips grazed her with sweet vigor, painful even.
The doorbell rang.
They pulled apart, staring wide-eyed at each other. “Shit!” They both said in unison.
Carson recovered first. “Let me handle this,” he murmured with deadly calm. “I have the best lawyers, plenty of money and a heart of love. I won’t fail you, Ivy. I’ll fix this, no matter whom I have to blackmail. I promise.”
She bit her lip. “I know.”
****
At the door, one woman and one man in dark blue nondescript suits stood with bland expressions.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilde?” asked the man.
Carson gave a curt nod, his hand seeking Ivy’s with a firm squeeze. “Yes.”
“I’m Agent Leland and this is Agent Brewster of the FBI.” They both flashed their credentials, in sync with one another. “We are with the Kidnapping and Missing Persons division. We were to understand you both married in Las Vegas last year. The name registered in the State of Nevada is Ivy Tremaine. Is that correct?”
Ivy nodded, but didn’t offer more, unsure what any of this meant.
“May we have a moment of your time?”
Both Carson and Ivy couldn’t contain their surprise or shock, stepping back to allow the agents entrance, grateful it wasn’t the Art Crime Division.
“Please have a seat,” Ivy offered. “Would either of you care for something to drink?”
They declined, sitting on the plush white sofa. “We’re sorry to barge in here like this, but we have some news.”
“What is this about?” Carson pulled Ivy close on the opposite sofa, continuing to hold her hand as if for dear life, his thumb rubbing absently over her knuckles.
Agent Brewster kicked off. “We are to understand, Mrs. Wilde, you were orphaned at three months old.”
“That’s right. My parents were both killed.”
He cocked his head, looking thoughtful. “Here’s the thing, we’d like to test a theory. With your name and age matching an old case, we believe you might be a victim of a kidnapping.”
She gasped and Carson took over. “What are you saying exactly?”
The woman agent cleared her throat. “Let me explain from the beginning. On November 21, 1987, Lorelei and Henry Thompson of Houston, Texas reported their infant daughter abducted by their nanny. The trail went cold and she was never found. Two states away, Orson and Marla Tremaine were killed in a car accident, leaving their alleged daughter in foster care. Usually such things wouldn’t alert us so many years later, but a forensic do-over has led us to believe Mrs. Wilde may, in fact, be the Thompson’s daughter, but only a DNA test will confirm it.”
Nausea bled over Ivy, as well as shocked and terrified at the same time. She glanced up at Carson to find him in full control. “What do-over prompted this?”
Agent Leland shrugged. “It’s not uncommon, actually. Cold files are brought in and reworked on a routine basis, and as new technology advances, new discoveries are made. The nanny’s fingerprints at the Thompson home match Marla Tremaine, but her real name was Cindy Whitmore and Orson wasn’t her husband. His name was actually Bartley Jones, a repeat offender wanted on theft and burglary in the state of Texas. As this news became known, we had to question the validity that Mrs. Wilde was their daughter. ”
“In fact, it took us a while to locate you, Mrs. Wilde. Unfortunately, the system runs a little slow,” Agent Brewster said with a smile, her cheeks pinking slightly.
“My wife has been living out of the country for quite some time…” Carson began explaining.
Ivy tuned out, everything a blur. God, her whole life a lie? Everything? How profound though, the irony wasn’t lost on her. Kidnapped? Her art theft profession? The wow factor by massive proportions closed with a fine swirl, leaving her speechless and in shock. Stealing obviously came naturally.
Afterwards, Carson had her in the Jacuzzi tub, her back resting against his chest, ever her strength. “You’ve been so quiet. Tell me what you’re thinking, Midnight.”
For several minutes, she still didn’t answer, her thoughts jumbled. “I could have a family—it’s shocking. While I’m a little excited, I’m frightened at the same time. What if they don’t like me or—”
He turned her in his arms until she straddled his thighs, pinning her with a hard gaze. “Excuse me? Where’s my Midnight and what have you done with her?” His amused eyes filled with humor. “You. Are. Wonderful.”
Ivy huffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m a thief.”
“You were a thief. Now, you are a respected member of society—no one may question it. I’ve buried your past, Ivy. I’ve buried it so far, even God won’t be able to find your sins. If it turns out the Thompson family is your family, they’re going to love you… as I do.” His lips curved into a soft smile. “Will you stop the self-deprecating shit? I seem to recall a very hasty admission from your beautiful lips before the FBI arrived,” he whispered, thumbing her bottom lip. “I’d very much like to explore that.”
She gave a coy smile, caressing up his arms, and looped her hands around his neck. Her breasts feathered up against the hard wall of his chest. “Would you now?”
Carson dipped his head closer, his lips warm over hers. “Yes, I would. Right here, right now.” He lifted an expectant brow, waiting.
Ivy grew somber, her eyes reflecting her truth. “I love you, Carson.”
“Thank God.” His mouth covered hers.
****
Ivy twisted her hands together, born Victoria Rosalie Thompson with a 99.9% result received from the lab. She was certainly the Thompson’s daughter, abducted by her nanny twenty-six years ago—the daughter of Lorelei and Henry Thompson. She had two sisters and one brother waiting for her, though she learned her father passed away five years earlier. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, a sense of loss swarmed her, yet a hollow emptiness chipped at his passing, numbing her response. Shouldn’t she feel compelled to cry? Something?
“Hey, how are you, Midnight?” Carson slid down beside her on the plane, awaiting takeoff to Houston, TX, and took her hand stilling her agitation.
She drew a deep
, shaky breath. “I’d like to do something with all the money I’ve… accumulated. It makes me sad to know how much my past shaped my present and how I believed I needed loads of money to be happy.” She shrugged. “Truth is, it’s not the money at all. I chased after it so hard, but I just wanted to be loved.”
A slow smile curved Carson’s lips. “And you are loved.”
“Now I am.”
He drew her hand up and kissed her knuckles. “What would you like to do? I’ll help you.”
“I’d like to think about it.” Ivy moved into his lap, ignoring the seatbelt light, yet he snuggled her closer, his nose caressing the curve of her ear. “I love you, baby.”
“What is it?” He tipped her face up, his blue gaze searching.
She shrugged, unable to sort her mind. “The last few months have been… overwhelming. It’s hard to take in all at once. I believe the most difficult thing of all is I didn’t know I was a victim of a kidnapping. I didn’t know I had a family searching for me… waiting for me. It’s humbling, yet…” she trailed off, the dark unknown deeper than her inarticulate vocabulary.
Carson gently pulled her closer. “You’ve got me, Midnight. No matter what happens this weekend, I’m here. Don’t forget that.”
Ivy laid her head on his shoulder, absorbing his warmth. “Honestly, if you weren’t, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Stop talking. You know I hate the thought of losing you.” A deep shudder ran across his body. The last year without her an unwelcome nightmare. “I’m here to stay. I’m here to hold you. And most of all… I’m here to love you. If you forget that—even for a second—I’ll be happy to take you over my knee anytime.”
She lifted her head, staring at him in shock. “You wouldn’t?” He raised a dark eyebrow, looking completely dark and masterful. A deep shiver rolled over her.
“Wouldn’t I? You leave me again and I’ll warm your perfect ass with my hand.” His tone and expression confirmed he meant every word. “I’m here, dammit, so use my strength. I mean it! Don’t fucking hide from me.”
