She took a fast shower and paused after brushing out her wet hair. Should she dress for her Op or for Malcolm? They had a couple more hours together, and even if things remained jumbled emotionally, she didn’t want to miss the chance for another good memory. She slid pink lip gloss over her mouth.
Her heart thundering, she fetched a bright blue teddy set that showed off her eyes and then put it on. There was something empowering about making the first move. The silk top came to her midriff, and the matching panties were a thong. Slightly uncomfortable but definitely sexy.
She’d bought it on a whim and hadn’t thought she’d ever actually wear it. The matching robe was in her closet, and she had to remove the price tag before sliding into it and securely tying the belt.
Should she put on high heels? Her one pair was black and shiny, so they’d kind of match.
His knock on the door stopped her musings. Heat burst into her face. What was she thinking? “Um, come in,” she called, her feet frozen on her bedroom floor. Her bare feet.
The sound of the door opening came first, his footsteps second. “Pippa? Where are my cookies?”
She blanched. There was a good one-liner in there somewhere, but her mind was blank. Drawing on courage she hadn’t realized she’d need, she strode into the doorway. “Why? Are you hungry?” she asked. Good line. Yeah, that was a good line. She’d nailed it.
He stopped near the colorful sofa, his chin dropping. His eyes flared a hot green as he looked his fill. Then he shook his head like a dog needing to sneeze. His still-damp hair curled around his collar. “Wow.”
Her breath released. Okay. He hadn’t rejected her outright. Her fingers fumbled, but she released the tie and let the barely there robe fall open.
The sound he made would stay with her for the rest of her life. Male and hungry. For her.
But he didn’t move.
So she did. The guy had pulled her like a magnet from day one, and tonight was no different. Reaching him, she slid her hands over the hard planes of his chest and looked way up into his rugged face. “We have two hours, Malcolm. How do you want to spend them?”
His lip twisted. “I had planned on talking you out of the Op.”
“No deal. What’s plan B?” Her hands slid down his chest and over his ripped abdomen, pulling his shirt free of his jeans.
He swallowed audibly. His gaze darkening, he reached for her right shoulder and gently pushed the robe away. The silky material fell down to her elbow. He breathed out, the sound tortured. His gaze ran across her chest, and her nipples pebbled as if he’d used his hands. Heat poured from him, overwhelming her as he pushed the other side of the robe down.
The robe caught on her elbows, and she shrugged her shoulders to free the material to fall to her feet, leaving her in a teddy and thong.
His intense gaze traveled from her face down to her toes before coming back up. “You’re beautiful, Pippa.”
He made her feel powerful. Very. “So are you.” She reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. He had to duck to let her, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was struggling to hold himself back.
She liked that. A lot. Then his bare and battle-scarred chest stole her attention. So much strength and power there.
“We should probably talk,” he murmured, settling his palms on her upper chest, above her breasts. He watched as his hands smoothed over her arms and caressed her wrists and back up. He snagged one thin strap above her shoulder and tugged it down her arm. Then he did the same with the other side, baring her breasts. Cool air kissed her skin.
“Talk? Yeah,” she whispered. Instinctively, she started to cover her nudity, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Lust and something softer. Need? Adoration? Pleasure. Yeah. It was pleasure.
How she could feel both vulnerable and powerful in the same second was beyond her. But she did. Because of Malcolm West.
He palmed her breasts, lightly rolling her nipples. Electricity zapped right to her core, which swelled against the tight silk with a pulsing need. She moaned and reached for his belt buckle, releasing it and pulling his belt free.
They’d had sex several times, but a new intimacy cocooned them. She released his zipper.
That sound seemed to spur him on. He moved in, tangling her hair in his fist and twisting. Her head went back and to the side. Then, finally, he took her mouth.
Warm and firm and deep, he kissed her. Taking his time, sweeping his tongue in her mouth, tasting of mint and male. His scent surrounded her, his mouth took her, and his heat swelled across her, head to toe.
Every inch of her was somehow touched by him. And they were still partially clothed.
Both hands went to cup her face, and he tugged her up on her tiptoes while releasing her mouth. His determined gaze kept her as captive as the hold on her head. “I . . .” Frustration crossed his face as he obviously struggled for the right words.
“I love you,” she blurted out. Geez. Talk about smooth. She winced. “I know it’s really fast and we’ve only known each other through lies, but now we know the truth, and feelings are feelings even if they don’t make any sense.” Shut up. She had to stop her mouth right here and now. Nothing could interfere with the excellent sex she was about to have. It might be her last time ever.
“I love you, too,” he murmured, his gaze hot. “I worry that I’m taking advantage because you’ve been on the run so long, but you have my heart.”
The words slid into her and settled, warming everything she’d ever be. She leaned up to kiss him, but his strong hold prevented her. “Malcolm?”
“Tell me you’re mine.” His hold tightened on her face. “Right now. Say it.”
Her mouth partially opened, but she held the words back. The raw emotion glittering in his eyes gave her pause. Those words meant something to him. Something big. Realization dawned on her, and she pressed her lips together. He wanted license to keep her away from the cult. To protect her whether she wanted it or not. “I’ll give you whatever words you want ... on Saturday,” she whispered.
The sound that rumbled up from his chest could only be called a growl.
She tried to shake her head but couldn’t move. “I have to do this, Malcolm.” Not only for her friend and her mother, but for herself. She couldn’t live with the regret if she didn’t try to stop Isaac.
The anger in Mal’s eyes was almost her undoing.
Then he kissed her again, releasing her face to grasp her hips and lift her off the ground. She grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling and then wrapped her legs around his waist.
The kiss was feral and deep, pouring into her with anger, need, hunger, and a desperate promise. He started to move and soon set her gently on her feet in her bedroom. “Then I’m enjoying myself tonight,” he murmured, starting to walk around her. “Stay put.”
A smile tickled her lips as she obeyed. As he moved, he ran a finger along her collar bone, over her shoulder, and then across her upper back. “Mal—”
“Shhh.” He stayed behind her and traced a line down her spine to her buttocks and then back up. The cami was still pooled at her waist, and he gently slid it down, leaving her only in the bright blue thong. “This is nice.” He caressed one bare buttock. “If I remember right, these turn an enticing shade of pink.” He squeezed.
She gasped, and heat flowed right from his hand through her abdomen and between her legs. She remembered just as well that he hadn’t exactly held back last time. The thought alternatively thrilled and warned her.
He traced his hands over her thighs and down her legs to her ankles and then back up. “Are you wet for me, Pippa?”
She could only give a short nod. Words were trapped in her throat; her body was wide awake and busy shutting down her brain.
“I asked you a question.” He tapped her ass, none too gently.
She jumped. Nerves flared to wild life, and her breasts ached heavy and ready for him. “Yes,” she whispered.
He stepped into her, hi
s chest to her back, his mouth leaning down, his breath hot on her ear. “Yes, what?” Those words, low and dangerous, licked through her somehow. Even now, even here, there was an edge to Malcolm West that called to a primal part of her she hadn’t known existed.
“Yes, I’m wet. For you,” she added before he could ask. “Though you could check, if you want.” She couldn’t help throwing down the challenge.
“That’s kind of you.” He slipped a finger under the back of the thong and traced its path, spreading her butt cheeks slightly.
She stiffened.
His chuckle in her ear threw tingles down her entire body. “You’re not ready for that. Yet.”
She shivered, caught in his spell.
He continued, between her legs, and brushed across her labia.
Her knees trembled, and she almost fell.
“You’re right. Wet.” He slid his hand free and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back into an obvious erection. “Very.” Then he pushed his hand inside the front of her panties, two fingers working her clit.
Pleasure burst across her sex, and she lost her balance.
He held her upright with one arm, his strength stealing what was left of her breath. “I don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get you primed now.” He pinched, and an orgasm exploded through her, making her whimper and press back against him.
Her body rioted as he flipped her around and tore off the panties. A second later, his jeans hit the floor, and he rolled a condom over his straining and impossibly engorged penis.
She reached for him and quickly found herself flat on her back.
He covered her, and she reached for him again, pulling him down. “Now, Malcolm,” she ordered, needing him inside her more than she needed her next breath.
He kissed her again, going deep, and shoved himself inside her with one hard push.
Finally.
* * *
Mal paused, balls deep in so much heat he could barely breathe. He wanted to be gentle, but his body was fighting him. Every instinct he owned bellowed for him to make Pippa his. She already lived in his heart. If this was love, it sure as shit wasn’t the smooth, happy, dance-in-the-tulips feeling he’d always figured it would be.
He’d also never figured to find it.
But here she was. Beneath him, holding him tight, trusting him to keep her safe. The fact that she wouldn’t actually let him do that made the beast inside him want to break its chains. The civilized beast he’d had to create to survive in this world.
That part of him wanted to claim her forever.
She scratched her nails down his arm, avoiding the bandage over the cut he’d given himself. Then she arched against him, tracing his chest and digging those nails in.
The sharp bite propelled him to move. He slid out of her warm body and back in. Her internal walls clamped down on him, gripping every nerve he had and threatening to steal the small amount of control he’d been able to retain.
He’d try to manipulate her right now, but if she tried the same, she’d definitely win. The woman owned him, body, heart, and soul.
The idea of her being harmed cut through him, and he powered back inside her, going as deep as possible. She moaned and spurred him on, her legs widening to give him more room.
He planted one hand on the mattress by her shoulder for leverage.
She looked up at him, those sapphire eyes full of trust ... and need. Her dark hair was sprayed across the pillow, soft and silky.
He’d never had a family. Even with his grandfather, that hadn’t been family. In fact, he’d never had anyone who was his. Truly his. Until now.
He tangled his free hand in her soft hair, brushing his knuckles across her face. Her bones were so delicate.
Breakable, vulnerable, and fragile.
His.
Desire coiled harsh and tight inside him, bringing out a possessiveness in him that was nearly feral. He drew back and then pushed in again, going harder and faster.
She shuddered around him, her gaze wide and direct. Beautiful. The word didn’t come close to describing her. He wanted to lose himself in her gaze as much as he was losing himself in her tight body.
Her gasps as he powered into her increased his speed. Relentless pleasure threatened to shred him, but he couldn’t stop. Close. He was so damn close. So he tilted his hips, brushing across her clit, and then ground against her.
She dug her nails into his chest and convulsed around him, her eyelids closing and a flush washing across her delicate features. Her interior walls clamped down on him.
He let himself go completely, hammering hard and deep into her, his breathing rough. The pleasure threatened to blind him, so he shut his eyes and let it take him over. His orgasm was stronger than a round of bullets, and he finally paused, barely keeping himself from falling on top of her.
She panted against him as he rolled to the side.
The alarm buzzed on his phone. That quickly, he went from warm and cozy to stone cold.
It was time.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It took Malcolm about two hours to drive the van to the mansion. He stopped a mile down the road and called Angus. “I’m a mile out,” he said without preamble.
“Good. I have forces preparing to infiltrate the mansion, but we don’t want to bring attention to ourselves by driving through that small town to get there. The second you give the order, it’ll take about fifteen minutes to raid the compound,” Force said. “Call it in the moment you have a location of the attack, or if you’ve been compromised.”
“Force—”
“Nope. Not discussing it any longer,” Force said. “We’re on Op, Agent.”
Mal’s neck ached. Agent. Not detective. Did it matter? The feeling was the same. Pride mingled with anxiety. “Angus, listen to me. If Isaac tries to put a bullet in me the second I get there, if he’s successful, you have to cancel the Op. Give me your word you won’t send her in if I’m not there to protect her.”
Silence ticked over the line. “All right. I give you my word.”
The weight lifted very slightly off Mal’s chest. “Thank you. It’s a bad idea anyway.”
Force sighed. “I’ve read your file. Did you ever confront your jerk of a grandfather about beating the shit out of you as a kid?”
Memories flashed back, bright and sharp. Blood and anger and a hell of a lot of pain. “I beat him in a fight when I was sixteen and never looked back.”
“She needs that, too,” Force said. “Pippa needs to face Isaac if she’s ever going to be able to stop running and have a normal life.”
Mal really didn’t like that logic, although he understood Force’s reasoning. “Don’t let her head here too early. I want her to arrive during the daylight, so Isaac doesn’t get any ideas of a last night together before he does whatever he’s going to do.”
“Agreed,” Force said. “Try to call in with a status if you find Trixie. I’d like for her to be alive.”
“Me too.” Mal checked his watch. It was about three in the morning. “I have to go. Hey, Force? Thanks for looking me up.”
“Thanks for saying yes. See you on the other side.” Force ended the call.
Mal pulled back onto the road and before long was aiming down the driveway for the mansion. It was odd that the place didn’t have any guards on duty. Isaac truly didn’t fear the authorities. Either he believed he was covered by God, or he figured his people were all there willingly and were nicely brainwashed.
Or both.
Mal parked the van and stepped out. Several vehicles were parked in front of the house, no doubt ready to take family members wherever the attack would take place. They were close enough to drive to several cities within the day. For once, the clouds had cleared, leaving the moon high and bright. It shone down on the deserted front lawn. Even the wind was silent finally. Shaking off the willies, he stalked up the stairs and entered the quiet mansion.
George was waiting by himself in the dim light, on a se
ttee inside the foyer. He looked behind Mal. “Where are Leroy and Eagle?”
“Couldn’t get them,” Mal said, sounding just as weary as he felt. “In fact, we have a huge-assed problem. Where’s Prophet?”
George sat back down. “He said if you were the one to get here first to send you up to his room. It’s on the second floor, farthest from the left. Wake him up if he’s asleep.”
Mal’s blood started to hum. “Who else is coming tonight?”
George shook his head. “The chosen one, man. You’ll meet her.”
Mal was already wearing her scent all over his body. He looked George over and didn’t see any weapons. “All right. You sure you don’t want to go wake the Prophet up?”
“Nope. Orders are orders.” George settled back down.
Wonderful. Mal’s gun was heavy in his boot, as was the knife in his other boot. If he had to take off his shoes, he was screwed. He memorized the layout as he jogged up the stairs and took a sharp left, knocking on the farthest door.
Nothing.
He knocked harder.
Bedclothes rustled. “Enter,” Isaac said.
Mal walked inside just as Isaac flipped on the bedside table lamp. He lay in a monstrous bed with two obviously naked women. One of them was Pippa’s mother.
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. Was that disappointment? Oh. The sick bastard had wanted Pippa to see her mother with him.
Mal stiffened. Deep inside him, in a place he rarely visited, he grew very still. “We have a problem.”
The other woman rolled over, and his gut clenched when he saw it was April. Bruises marred her neck and chest, and her vibrant eyes were downcast. God, he was going to kill Isaac. Mal turned away. “See you downstairs.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and jogged down the stairs to the office before he could rip Isaac apart piece by piece.
The leader joined him in about fifteen minutes wearing pressed white linen pants and a matching loose shirt. “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”