Her heart lifted into her throat. He was so big and strong and sweet standing there with his ripped jeans, dark shirt, and leather jacket. A fresh smell came from him. New detergent? “Come on in.” She moved aside.
“Thanks.” He strode past her to the kitchen.
“How was New York?” she asked, following him.
He set the groceries down, and his head dropped.
Oh crap. She moved up behind him, wrapping her arms around his strong torso and resting her cheek against his spine. “Forget it. You don’t have to talk about work.” Gently, she turned him around. His eyes were cloudy and his mouth tense. Must’ve been a bad day, talking about the shooting. “Shhh.” Rising up, she pressed her mouth to his.
His large body shuddered. “Wait.”
“No.” She’d give anything to get lost with him again. Just for a night. “Please, Malcolm.” She had to stand on her tiptoes to run her hands through his hair. Then she kissed him again.
* * *
Her soft touch was going to kill him. After a shitty day of being somebody else, standing here with Pippa, having her hands on him, was a blessing he didn’t deserve. They needed to talk. He was tired of the lies.
Then she pressed her small body against him and bit his bottom lip.
He went from exhausted to ready in a nanosecond. His heart rate increased, and lava flowed through his veins. “Pippa,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Yeah,” she whispered back, sliding her hands down to grasp his whiskered cheeks. “It’s just you and me tonight, Mal. No jobs, no worries, no outside world.” On her tiptoes again, she licked along his bottom lip. “Please. I need this.”
So did he. Right or wrong, so did he.
A low rumble rose from his chest and he ducked, lifting her into his arms. If they were going to get lost, he was going to treat her right this time. Gentle, and with a reverence she probably deserved.
Even if she was brainwashed and lying to him, he could forgive her after spending one day in that place with Isaac Leon. In fact, it was amazing she could even be here offering herself to him.
She nipped and sucked her way up his neck, biting gently into his earlobe.
Heat rushed down his torso to his balls, landing hard. Slow. He needed to go slow this time. Laying her on the bed, he divested her of clothing before tossing his shirt to the floor. Next, he kicked off his boots. “God, you’re beautiful,” he rumbled, gently caressing the smooth lines of her collarbone to her breasts. “So perfect.” Her skin was the softest thing he’d ever felt.
“Malcolm.” She planted her palms across his abs and traced each one. “I love these muscles.” Then she traced along the knife wound on his hip and down to his scarred leg. “So much violence. You’re a survivor.” Her smile was the sweetest sight he’d ever seen.
She sat up, reached for his zipper, and released him, moaning softly as she stroked his length. His eyeballs almost rolled back in his head. “A true hero,” she whispered, kissing his cock.
His balls bunched tight. “You can trust me, Pippa. You know that, right? I won’t hurt you.”
She licked along his length, and his legs trembled. “What if I hurt you?” she whispered, her breath hot on him. “I don’t want to.”
“You can tell me anything. I’ll cover you.” It probably wasn’t smart to make that a real promise, but he meant every word. He tried to think of something else to say, but she closed her lips over him. Electricity zapped to his balls. He gasped air, and the blood roared through his ears. She sucked him like he was a treat, releasing him with a pleased smile. “I’ve never done that before.”
The sweetness in her delight only spurred his need higher.
She grasped a condom out of his back pocket and bit the wrapper, spitting it out. Then she carefully rolled the rubber down, nearly killing him in the process. “I’ve never done that, either.”
Her delight was going to end him.
He dropped his jeans and moved her up the bed, his mouth already seeking hers. Ferocious need rode him. One night with her hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. What if he never got enough of her? Maybe he’d never be satisfied because the more he touched her, the more he wanted her.
The woman had somehow tunneled right into his blood.
He swept a hand down her body, memorizing her breasts. Her narrow rib cage. The contour of her hip. Was he being too rough? She kissed him back, her body arching against his. He licked her neck, right over her racing pulse.
Good. She wanted this. “Pippa,” he murmured right before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking.
Her hands tunneled into his hair as if to keep him in place. So he sucked harder. Her moan vibrated down his chest.
She arched against him, wet and ready. His dick throbbed at her entrance, and he pushed inside, feeling like he was finally where he was supposed to be. None of this made any sense, so he shut his eyes and just let himself feel.
Her scent, soft and wild, was all around him. Her body accepted him, vibrating along his length. He tried to go slower, tried to pause, but she scraped her nails down his back, and he was lost.
He pushed all the way home, lifting his head and kissing her again, taking anything and everything she wanted to give him. Every single sigh and second. Then he let her breathe, staring into her eyes. A deep and mysterious blue. Her body gripped him as if she’d never let him go. “Are you all right?” he asked, his arms quivering as he held himself back.
She rolled her body against him and widened her thighs. “Yes. All yours, Malcolm.” She drew out his name with need in every syllable.
“Are you?” He pulled out and pushed back in, the feeling too delicious to stop. To even pause.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice softening. “Anything that matters in me is yours.”
He stopped, balls deep inside her. If that wasn’t a promise, he didn’t know what was. Maybe they were two messed-up people who had found each other somehow. “Let me save you.” Where the hell had those words come from?
She blinked. She caressed his back and shoulders, his face. “You already have. No matter what happens, you have.” Tilting her pelvis, she took more of him. All of him.
A roaring filled his ears. Lightning jolted down his spine, sparking his balls. He groaned and pulled free, driving back inside her with a desperation he could almost taste. Harder and farther, he took her, galvanized by her little gasps urging him on.
She broke first, her body tightening, her nails scouring his butt. Her orgasm pushed him into his own, and he powered hard into her, shuddering as his entire body flared wide awake and on fire. Had he ever come that hard?
Finally, he came down, his chest panting.
Her mouth was formed in a small o. He brushed the hair back from her face, not missing the vulnerable glimmer in her eyes.
They were both lying to each other, and he knew that for sure. But in the moment, with her, this felt like the truth.
Chapter Nineteen
Pippa tried to slow her crazy heartbeat as Malcolm rolled off her and disposed of the condom in the other room. He returned, just a wide shadow in the darkness, and climbed into bed with her. Neatly flipping her on her side, he curled around her, his nose in her neck and his abdomen against her back.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice already sleepy.
She nodded, sinking into his warmth. “Yes.” Then a huge yawn escaped her. “Are you?” Did he want to talk about his crappy day? She tried to keep her eyes open, but they closed anyway. Her body relaxed from head to toe. He was just so dang warm. “You can talk to me. You seemed stressed.”
He chuckled lightly against her skin. “If I was stressed earlier, I’m sure not now.”
She smiled into the darkness. “Glad I could help.”
“If you helped any more, I’d be in a coma.” He kissed the soft spot between her neck and shoulder.
She shivered, and her body warmed up some more. It felt so right to be in his arms. Bliss like this couldn??
?t last. It wasn’t possible. “Do you think the mistakes we make define us?”
“No.” He nipped her earlobe. “I think the way we react after we screw up defines us. What do you want to talk about, Pippa?” His voice was a low rumble of pure heat and promise. In the darkness, all alone, he inspired trust.
She bit her lip. One night. Just one night to snuggle in and be Pippa Smith. Once she told him the truth, it might end. She so didn’t want this to end. “Nothing.” Not right now anyway. She cuddled closer and let herself drift off, safe for the first time in too long.
* * *
The music was always playing. In the house, out in the gardens, during meditation and school. Always the same beat, the same hum. They had moved to somewhere outside of Boston. New members of the family had generously offered their home and all the grounds to Isaac.
New members often did.
Her name was Mary now, but she still thought of herself as Pipsqueak. Even though she’d turned sixteen last week, she felt young. She knelt in morning meditation, her thoughts jumbled, her head hurting. A newer member had been punished the previous night because of untoward questions, which were never asked. She’d been ridiculed, and then she’d disappeared.
Probably into one of the thinking chambers. Oh, she’d be back. But she’d be exhausted and confused, and she probably wouldn’t ask questions again.
Questions were bad.
The family was good.
“Mary,” her mother whispered from the door. “Come.”
Mary stood gracefully without using her hands, as she’d been taught. Her stomach churning, she followed her mother from the peaceful room where twenty other family members were still in meditation. “Yes?”
“Isaac wants to see you.” Excitement flushed her mother’s face as she smoothed the pure white silk scarf Mary wore around her neck. Isaac had given it to her on her birthday, and she was to wear it at all times.
She hated that scarf. Completely. She’d thought of losing it in the garden the day before, but she didn’t want to face Isaac’s anger.
They passed several members cleaning the house, and her eye caught Tulip’s. She was Mary’s age and fairly new, with sparkling blue eyes and curly hair. She rolled her eyes.
Mary bit back a grin and kept walking, trying to quell the ache in her stomach. She always had to spend time with Isaac, but usually she just sat in the background as he conducted his meetings. It was a toss-up as to whether he’d be teasing, yelling, or touching whoever was in the room.
This time, he sat alone near the fireplace.
Mary stalled at the door.
Her mother gently nudged her inside. “Don’t be difficult.” She raised her voice. “Do you need me, Prophet?”
Isaac glanced up from the flames. “No, but thank you. I will require you tonight after supper.”
“Of course.” Her mother bowed out gracefully and shut the door.
“Come.” Isaac gestured toward the chair across from him.
She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat had gotten too large. Her legs stumbled a bit, but she made it to the chair and sat across from him.
He pointed to a stack of papers, numbers and charts, on the hearth. “Do you know what those are?”
She drew in a breath. “My natal chart. You showed it to me last week.” Sometimes he forgot things. She wondered if it was the tea he drank, but maybe he just had so much in his head that things escaped.
“You know you’re special, right?” he said, reaching out and touching her knee.
She kept perfectly still. “Because you have said so, Isaac.” She knew the right words to say. And she was always to use his name, when most people weren’t allowed.
“Yes.” He released her and sat back. He wore his usual light linen clothing, and his arm muscles clenched. He’d been working out a lot lately. “On your eighteenth birthday, we will get married and then preparations will begin. I don’t know yet which way the fates will flow, but on your twenty-fifth birthday, we shall do God’s work.”
She frowned. “How? How will we do God’s work?”
“That’s up to the world. We’ll either spread His love or His wrath.” Isaac’s eyes had an odd gleam to them. “We will have children. Special ones. Do you like your scarf?”
Presents weren’t allowed in the family. Yet he’d given her one. One she had to wear around her neck always. “Yes. Thank you.”
“This is how I want you to wear it.” He looped it around once and let the ends trail down her breasts. His smile showed even teeth. “And from now on, you shall only wear white. No other colors. Understand?”
They mostly wore white anyway. But she did like the soft yellow she sometimes got to wear. “Why?”
He tilted his head.
“I mean, of course.” Questions were bad. Her body flushed, and she eyed the door.
He grasped the ends of the scarf. “The other day, I saw you talking to Eagle and Lake in the gardens when you were supposed to be picking tomatoes.”
Her body chilled. “We were gardening and did pick tomatoes.”
He started pulling the scarf. “You are to remain pure until your birthday. Until our wedding. Are you looking at other males?”
“No,” she croaked as he tightened the material across her throat. Her eyes started to water, and she couldn’t breathe. Unable to help herself, she clutched at the scarf and tried to jerk it away from her neck.
He was too strong. Her vision had gone black by the time he let her go.
She sank back in the chair, coughing and gasping, trying to breathe. Tears poured down her face.
“Robin,” he called out, his face oddly calm.
A young woman hustled inside, her long brown hair swaying. She moved to his side, her attention solely on him. “Yes, Prophet.”
He kept his gaze on Mary. “My bride has displeased me. Because she can’t be touched until we wed, you’ll take her punishment.”
Robin looked at Mary and then back at Isaac, her face turning pale. “Of course.”
Isaac grabbed Robin and threw her on the ground. Then he pulled up her skirt. “And you’ll stay and watch, Mary. Rules must be obeyed.”
* * *
Pippa bolted upright in bed, clutching at her neck and trying to breathe. She couldn’t get any air into her lungs.
“Whoa.” Malcolm sat up and put her right onto his lap, cradling her. “You’re okay, baby. Keep breathing.”
She shuddered against him, all but crawling into his warmth. Hard muscle and calm man held her, and she shut her eyes, allowing him to shield her. “Sorry,” she croaked.
He chuckled, his breath stirring her hair. “Nightmares I understand. Live with them almost every night.” Gently, he rocked her in the bed, the movement soothing. “Close your eyes and think of the cutest puppy or kitten you’ve ever seen. Then put yourself in a meadow with the sun shining down.”
She did so, her chest moving as she breathed out. In and out. Again. Her body stopped trembling, and she began to warm up. It was impossible not to in his arms.
“Better?” His big hand slid down her arm and back up. “I’ve got you.”
He did. There was no question that Malcolm West had her. Completely. “Do you think of a puppy to calm yourself?” Her voice shook.
“No. I think of a pizza. A fully loaded one from Antonio’s in New York.”
She smiled, as no doubt he wanted her to. “A pizza. In a meadow.”
“Yeah. No ants either. Just me and a big pie.” He kissed her brow. “You better now?”
She nodded, her head moving against his chest. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Rumor has it that talking about nightmares can help.” He gently moved her back down under the covers and spooned around her, offering warmth and protection. Rain poured down outside, lending a sense of intimacy to the small room.
“Do you talk about yours?” She couldn’t become dependent upon him, but nothing in the world would make her move a
way right now.
“No.” He played with her hair, his arm extended up her torso. “There’s a shrink with the new requisition unit who would love to dig into my head and discover all sorts of twisted emotions, but so far I’ve been able to evade her. Have you ever talked to anybody?”
“Yes. I saw somebody in person for a while who really helped, and now I have a counselor online. We Skype.” In fact, she was due to meet with Dr. Valentine soon. “He’s very good, if you want his number.”
Mal chuckled again. “I don’t think you and I should talk to the same shrink.”
Yeah, neither did she. “It does help, though. I’ve worked through a lot.” She didn’t want to push him; it wasn’t her place. “If you don’t want to talk to your shrink, you could always talk to me.” She held her breath.
“Like you talk to me?” he asked quietly.
She winced. He was smart and trained. Of course he knew she was keeping secrets. But a lot of people had bad childhoods, and hopefully, he was chalking her nightmares up to that. “I think my nightmares come from a less-than-ideal childhood. What about yours? Childhood with mean grandpa plus flying bullets?” She wanted to know everything she could about him.
He sighed. “Yeah. I guess. The bullets part is what has me hypervigilant. Checking locks, always looking over my shoulder, not trusting anybody. Standard PTSD without going too nuts on anybody. Yet anyway.”
“You’re trusting me.” Maybe not completely, but he was naked in bed, talking about feelings. Guilt swept her. Well, she was talking about feelings, too. Just not facts. That had to count for something, right?
“Who hurt you, Pippa?” The question was soft, and his low tone took her by surprise.
The words invited trust. She wanted so badly to give all of herself to him. To let him work through some of the problems. She opened her mouth, not sure what she’d say.
Something dinged on the bedside table. She looked around.
“Damn it.” He rolled over and reached for his phone. His body stiffened. “I have to go, sweetheart. Work calls.”