by Angel Payne
Sam mock-glowered—for all of a second. As soon as the look moved into real seriousness, his eyes gained a new gleam. Jen swallowed past a sudden cotton mouth. Fought against getting sucked into that stare of his, so sizzling and brilliant…
Hopeless cause.
Especially as he leaned over, both hands raised, knuckles brushing her cheeks…
Before yanking on her earlobes and cracking a broad smirk. “Don’t think the plastic ones will compete with these beauties.”
She spurted a laugh. Good thing. It disguised the quiver conquering the rest of her body…and then the heat in the tender tissues between her thighs. Even after he lifted up, her pussy thrummed and pulsed in accentuated awareness…
Hell. He’d only indulged some playful tugs on her ears. What the hell was wrong with her? She surely wasn’t any Mattie, but she wasn’t a shivering virgin anymore either. Men had touched her before. In lots of places.
But none of them had been Sam Mackenna.
Danger zone, girl. You are way behind the boundaries of what’s good for you here. Get out now, while you can still sprint back to the border. Get out while your important parts are still safe. Parts like your heart.…
“Captain Mackenna?” she finally murmured.
He gave in to a new smile. “Yes, Miss Thorne?”
“You’re so full of shit.”
He dropped his hands. Chortled harder. Making him laugh shouldn’t have felt so damn good…
“Well played, a leanbh. Well fuckin’ played.”
But it did—in the exact same way his comeback made her belly tingle, her heart race, and her libido gallop.
A leanbh.
It didn’t mean a thing. Or so she kept ordering at herself. Sam was still an outsider in this country and simply felt comfortable enough with her to sling the casual flattery. And Jen was just an outsider, period. He’d get that point soon enough—especially as Mattie sauntered near enough to wrap a hand to Sam’s shoulder.
Her nails, painted in a trendy reverse French, tightened on his broad muscle with their shiny ebony tips. In a voice as smooth and glossy, she crooned, “Everything all right here, Thorny-boo?”
“Sure.” Except for the ride back to the worst parts of adolescence. Thanks so much, Mat.
Mattie’s laugh was as perfect—and fake—as Marilyn Monroe’s on a press junket. “Sweetie, don’t pout. It brings out yucky lines in your face. Besides, I kind of like all those cute memories.”
Jen wasn’t sure whether to drive Mat insane by pouting harder or confuse the hell out of her by giggling as Sam purposely slid away from her grip. Fortunately, the man made it possible to stay in a neutral zone between the two by rendering his own reaction, tagged with an openly curious stare. “Memories?”
And God, was she glad for that neutral zone. Poor Sam had no way of knowing that his politeness had just sent a deeper dredge into her humiliating past, but she wasn’t about to give Mattie any more fuel for her gluttonous gloat.
“We all grew up together,” the woman explained, damn near pulling off the act of an affectionate school chum recalling “the good ol’ days.” “Jen was always the most adorable thing with her pratfalls. Then when her auntie came to pick her up from school, the woman would kiss all over her ‘boos.’ After a while…”
You and Viv turned it into the nickname I hated more than any other.
“I think he probably gets the idea,” Jen blurted instead. This evening was Tess’s special time, and she wasn’t about to taint any of it by dragging either of her sisters through the mud they enjoyed slinging. Besides, it was clear Sam did get the idea, evidenced by his tightening brows and hardening jawline. At once, Jen hated his new expression. She knew the beginning of pity when she saw it, and it was awful even on his beautiful features.
And no, it wasn’t any better when he growled, sounding wrathful and protective, before uttering, “Mattie.”
“Hmmm?” The woman didn’t flinch at a note of his warning tone. She was either really clueless or had the biggest pair of girl balls Jen had ever encountered.
“Cool it.”
“Please. Jen doesn’t mind. If anything, her little stumbles made us all adore her more. She used to send us all into fits, always walking around with her nose in some book. We often joked that the aliens could fly right over from Area 51, land in the school’s quad, and Thorny-boo would barely notice—until she took a header into the bushes. Or the wall. Or down the stairs. Even the teachers excused her from being tardy all the time, because—”
“Mattie.” A heftier dose of Sam’s tone finally silenced her. Still, Jen couldn’t pick stupidity or girl balls when the woman returned Sam’s glower with a blithe little grin. With those deep furrows in his forehead and heavy breaths flaring his nostrils, the man was even a little…scary.
In all the right ways.
All the most arousing ways…
She couldn’t go there. She wouldn’t. Her racing pulse and electrified nerve endings had much different ideas.
This was insane. This was incredible.
“Honey! Is everything okay?”
Tess to the rescue. Thank God. Her friend grabbed her by both hands, a huge grin on her face as she helped Jen gain her feet once more. That was also a damn good thing, since she now had the treat of viewing Tess from head to toe.
Her friend was nothing less than stunning in a red sleeveless sheath that hugged her cute figure, as well as showing off her shoulder-to-elbow tattoos. Tess’s latest ink, a heart emblazoned on the middle of her chest with Dan’s initials in the middle, peeked from the dress’s sweetheart neckline. Everyone would be able to see the full tattoo in a couple of weeks, thanks to the breathtaking cut of the cream-colored gown Tess had selected in which to become Mrs. Daniel Colton.
Mrs. Daniel Colton.
Holy…cow.
A smile split across Jen’s face now as she reassured her friend, “I’m fine, girlie. And you are gorgeous.” An understatement. Her friend’s beauty, so similar to Mattie’s on the surface, with a button nose and heart-shaped chin, went so much deeper than the surface. Tess had a soul as vivid as the color wash that turned her hair a blazing red and a generous heart that burst through in every sparkle of her brilliant green eyes.
And oh yeah: a bullshit meter that was wickedly accurate, even before her stint with the FBI. “Why do I not believe you?” the woman accused, clearly putting the meter to good use with the force of her conviction.
“Because you’re a dork,” Jen teased. “Come on, Tess. Chill. I just need a little more practice in these heels, which was exactly why I wore them tonight.”
“Well.” Mattie’s matter-of-fact tone was likely the closest she’d come to comfort. “At least nothing valuable seems broken.”
“Of course not.” The rejoinder came from Viv Lesange, who’d slipped in next to her sister. She clearly didn’t have the same designs on Sam as Mattie, being the girl who gravitated toward pretty boys who had twelve opinions on every trending Twitter tag—with a matching number of piercings. “Our Thorny-boo is made of Teflon.”
Jen didn’t bother with a glare. Tess flung a strong glare for them both. Mattie and Viv blinked back, as clueless as sticks of chalk, before Mattie offered, “Maybe it’s best that she rests. I’m more than happy to walk the aisle again so she can get how the heels are handled.”
“No.” Jen borrowed more of Sam’s growl. Owing a “favor” to Mattie Lesange, however small, would’ve been equal to jabbing a spike into her brain. “I’ll get it right,” she insisted, pushing off the pew she’d been using for some extra support. “I just need to—”
And right on schedule, her balance protested the Louboutins again. Just two seconds, and she teetered precariously…
Directly into Sam.
Chapter Four
“Oh, God!”
Jen’s outcry sent a fan of heat across Sam’s chest as she grabbed him tight, digging her pretty fingers into his biceps and awakening even more primal urges through
his entire system. Especially as her thighs slammed hard against his. And her luscious breasts mashed into the wall of his chest. And her heartbeat pounded relentlessly next to his, practically in unison to the wild, lusting gallop of his…
But he didn’t let her go. He gripped her even harder than she grabbed him, knowing she didn’t want to fall again—
But unable to think of lettin’ her do anythin’ else.
And how she’d look if she took him down with her…
Until they were prone on the floor together and she was beneath him in all her sighing, sweet, passionate resplendence…
Makin’ him wonder what she’d say if he ordered everyone—politely, of course—to adjourn themselves for dinner already. Everyone but her. She would stay right here. Gaspin’ and writhin’ as he hiked her filmy skirt to her waist. Sighin’ and keenin’ as he ripped her panties away and took her here and now like the cretin she’d undeniably turned him back into.
Holy fuck, he was so hard.
And so ready.
Like he had been for three goddamned days now…
“Shit, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.” It spilled from him as breath more than volume, zapped that way by the energy arcing between their bodies. The hot, torturous force sizzled through his nerves and bubbled in his blood before shooting down to invade the length of his cock, causing it to punch the front of his pants even harder.
He wanted her.
Despite knowing she still didn’t believe that.
He needed her.
Even more so as she jerked her head up and locked her gaze with his.
Her gaze.
Ah dear God, her eyes.
The dark, endless seas of them were a force on his senses, makin’ him pull her even closer, until the cadence of her heartbeat pulled on his like an ancient siren’s song, awakenin’ more primeval instincts inside him. Oh aye. He was a painted Pict, huntin’ a graceful she-stag across the moors. He was a medieval archer, trackin’ a wild hawk across the crags of Skye. He was raw lightning, chasin’ her rain across a gray and violet horizon…
“Why?”
He started from her sudden blurt, though it barely dented the primordial images dominating his imagination. “Why…what?”
“Why are you not sorry?” She crunched an urgent frown. It had to be one of the bonniest sights he’d ever seen.
Sam swallowed hard. It was no proper answer but with any luck might lead to one. She had, after all, asked the perfect question for it. I’m not sorry because I came here on this exchange thinkin’ I would be. Thinkin’ I had nothin’ left to offer my country but a man carved hollow by too much blood on his hands and too many hours in the cockpit. Thinkin’ I had nothin’ left to give the world but a soul full of disillusionment, and a heart full of loneliness. A Heathcliff who’d never really find his Catherine…
Until you, Jenny.
Until you.
But while he had the answer, he still didn’t have the right opportunity. Her furtive glance around brought him back to that recognition. Clearly she was already a ball of anxiety about becomin’ the main attraction, instead of the friend for whom she’d showed up for, even in heels that had damn near been her ruin. He was glad to see that no one seemed more aware of that fact than Tess Lesange herself, who was still eyein’ Jenny for damage from top to bottom.
“Hmmm…” Though suddenly she was including him along with her assessment. And throwin’ in that weird little commentary on top of her perusal too—which in turn didn’t escape Jen’s attention.
“Hmmm…what?” she challenged to Tess, twisting enough in Sam’s hold to prop a hand against her waist.
“Yeah.” Dan moved in behind his fiancée. “Hmmm what, my little ruby?” The man took Jen’s threads of suspicion and wove them into a full vocal tapestry, framing the whole thing inside a watchful scrutiny. Sam, continuing to secure Jenny at his side, looked on with a nod of appraisal—and approval. Franzen had supplied enough hints about Dan’s darker Dominant tendencies that Sam already had a good idea about the fuller aspects of the couple’s relationship, but watchin’ Dan finesse his Dominance over Tess with more subtle techniques was like observin’ a master martial artist at work. It only looked easy.
“I was just thinking”—Tess tapped a finger to the side of her chin—“about how nice Jen and Sam look together.”
“Well, thank ye.” Sam laid on the charm enough for Tess to clap in delight, giving him time to dip a deferential nod at Dan. The way Dan held Tess with protectiveness but not possessiveness, along with his subtle squeezes to her nape and wrists, were all just subtle affections to the majority of the room—but likely carried a huge world of meanin’ between the Dominant and his pretty subbie. Well done, mate, he conveyed silently to Colton. Out loud, he continued to Tess, “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Right?” Tess’s face lit up as she swiveled to face her fiancé. “He couldn’t agree more. That definitely means I should go to talk to the banquet captain about scooting around the place settings for dinner, and—”
“No.”
“No?” Tess spat it from compressed lips but backed off on her rebellious salt the second Dan swung around to fully face her, arching his left brow so sharply, it pulled on the swath of burn tissue along that side of his face. During the drive here, Franzen had given Sam the tweet-length explanation about Dan’s scars, because both of them had lived with stories like it for a long damn time. A mission, an explosion, a fire, and some trapped nurses. Dan had gotten the job done. Enough said.
“I said no, my little rose.” A new tug at the back of her neck was as gentle as his murmur above her forehead. He officially turned the woman to mush by bussing her hairline with the same firm forbearance. “You’ve been working yourself ragged on all of this for weeks, and tonight, I am instructing you to do nothing but be in this moment, with me, and enjoy the beauty of what you’ve created.” He slid a thumb beneath Tess’s chin, coaxin’ her face up, and Sam swore his breath snagged right along with the woman’s pleasure-filled little gasp. The look Tess blessed her Dom with…soaked with her trust and adoration and love… He’d not ever had the joy of such a moment with a submissive yet, but getting to witness such a connection was a gift as sacred and perfect as a sunrise over the Trossachs. The magic was really possible. If fate had brought him to the States just for this message, then the trip would’ve been worth it. But by God, he hoped he’d been brought here for more—and that the bonus included creating some special times with the gorgeous brunette in his arms.
“Yes, Sir.”
He’d been so lost in spinning up some new fantasies about Jen, it took a second to identify the breathy little sigh had emanated from Tess instead. Dan rewarded her with a low, satisfied growl before shifting his tender kisses to the bridge and tip of her nose. “I mean it, sweet one. From this moment on, you’re to relax and enjoy the hell out of all this. If Jen and Sam want to sit together, I’m sure they’ll find a way to sit together.” He emphasized that by tossing a look to Sam as clear as it was quick. Just fucking do it, man. “My little ruby is going to simply revel in this special night…and all of its fun surprises.”
“Yes, S—” Tess stopped short, her face swapping out languid and submissive for stunned and alert. “Wait. What? Surprises?”
As she spurted the last of that, a handful of hotel staffers pulled open a pair of double French doors on the far side of the salon—to reveal a spacious terrace awash in the dark amber rays of early twilight. In the center of the space was an elegantly set dining table. It was surrounded by towering palms, their graceful trunks wrapped in white twinkle lights. The table glowed as well, since LED lights were embedded beneath its surface. Red- and gold-colored roses floated on a miniature reflecting pool that extended the length of the table. Nearby, waiters in tuxedoes stood at the ready with trays of champagne and chilled flutes. Sixty stories below, the city’s iconic Strip blazed to life, lights flickering and traffic bustling, as the night a
pproached.
“Oh…my.” Tess’s exclamation matched the awe across her face, meanin’ her man was equally lousy with emotion. In the space of a snap, Dan had abandoned his growlin’ hound of command to simply simper like a lad who’d given his special lass a fine gift from the depths of his heart—and probably had. That explained why Dan hadn’t wanted her footerin’ about and chasin’ down the banquet staff too. He’d wanted this moment all to himself.
“Do you like it?”
At first, Tess didn’t utter a word of reply. But her teary gaze spoke a thousand to everyone in the salon, making it inconsequential when she rasped her answer right into Dan’s ear. Everyone broke into applause when she sealed the perfection of the moment by popping up on tiptoes and dragging the man down for a ravaging, rolling kiss that left very little of her intent to the imagination.
Aye. Perfection.
“Ohhhh, you crazy kids.” Franzen, obligin’ a pointed look from Tess’s mother, moved in to disengage the lovers from their public gobble under the guise of movin’ the party along. “Let’s save some of the fun for the wedding night, yeah?” Spreadin’ out his massive arms—over here, they called them “guns,” but when it came to Franzen, the moniker fit—he clapped one huge hand to Dan’s back and then the other over to Tess. “We know eight days sounds like forever, but—”
“That might be how long you’ll need to get out of traction, Pineapple Smoothie,” Dan cut in. “Unless you choose to get your charming paws off my subm—my fiancée.”
Franzen chortled, along with most of the gents in the room, at Dan’s little slip. “As you wish, Dungeon Fun Ken.”
Another round of laughter, for which Sam was instantly grateful. The moment presented a prime opportunity to gauge Jen’s comfort level with talk like this: thinly-veiled references to the BDSM dynamic that her best friend clearly indulged in with Dan. He set his expectations for everything from matching laughter to a discomfited squirm…
