Banks

“Bloody hell,” I mutter, as I leave Tia in the study and walk upstairs, ignoring the look Fallon gives me when I pass him.

The way I felt standing so close to her reminded me that I could, would lose control if I get emotionally involved.

And that’s one thing I can’t afford.

I take a shower, trying to erase the way it felt to press my hand against her waist, keeping her in place. She looked up at me with eyes filled with yearning, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she wants me.

She may have come to this house a virgin, but now she has experience and she won’t run off scared when I show her what it means to truly fuck. Or if she does, I’ll drag her right back until she’s clawing my back, begging for more.

When I finally have her - and I will have her - I need to keep this purely physical.

I’ll lose myself in her otherwise.

And I won’t lose control, not now. Not after everything I’ve worked so hard for.

I’ve spent years fighting my demons, mastering absolute self-control.

After being raised by an alcoholic father, a man who had little if any understanding of moderation, I learned a thing or two about restraint. The last thing on Earth I want to be is like him.

Weak.

Indulgent.

And a woman is no different than a bottle of vodka, getting emotionally invested in either one will make you lose all your senses.

The hot water runs over my body, and my hand wraps around my shaft. Thinking about her perky nipples poking through her sweater leads me home as I stroke my cock hard, coming at the memory of her.

I’ll have to wait a little while longer. The last thing I want is to take her before she’s ready. I can sense her hesitance, but I can also feel her need. Her want. Her pure desire. But she’s not ready and I won’t take her until she is. I’ll make her prove her worth to me before I take what’s mine.

When I finally have her, she will be on her hands and knees begging for more. Her tight pink pussy has no idea what’s coming her way.

I dry off, hearing the sounds of everyone gathering for dinner. Dressing quickly, I’m ready to move forward with her.

I have to get her pregnant. It’s the only way she’ll survive this.

Sitting at the table, everyone seems slightly more relaxed than we were ninety minutes ago. Open bottles of wine are on the kitchen island, and platters of chicken, rice, and vegetables are on the table.

Once we are all seated, I take a good look at Tia. She’s showered too, her long hair still damp, but she’s wearing a pretty dress that I’m guessing Huxley procured for her. It’s low around the neck accentuating her round breasts. She looks gorgeous.

I watch her, as I often do, wondering how odd it is that she is here at all. Especially now that we know who she truly is. If I thought she was captivating before, I am now invested in a whole new way.

Her father was my idol for a long time. Until the rumors started about what he was actually doing in his labs. How he’d used women like lab rats, many of whom died at his hands.

But they were only rumors. If there was any proof, surely the government would have shut down his studies and put him behind bars years ago. But then again, this world we live in is fucked up. Where monsters rule, and the lines between right and wrong are blurred. I was so close to living in the gray area myself, that I knew how easy it was to forget about morals, especially when fighting for the greater good.

“So tomorrow Banks and I are going to his research lab,” Tia announces.

I glance up from the glass of wine I’d been sipping at.

Across the table from me, Giles raises a brow. “What will you be doing there?”

“I want to understand more about what he means when he says he has options for fertility treatments. I want to see, first hand, what that might actually look like.”

“So, that’s what you want?” Emerson asks, frowning. “To get pregnant?”

Damn, that guy is the bane of my existence. Other people here might think it’s Fallon that can get on my last nerve with his alpha dominance, but it’s Emerson and his home sung hero act that really grates on me.

I know it’s cruel. The guy almost drowned at sea. But he is everything I’m not. He had this idyllic childhood, put a few tickets in the Lottery - that his family saved for on his behalf - and had this beautiful bride served right up to him.

What about the rest of us? Guys like me, who worked for every damn thing we have. There was no daddy who cared about what happened to me. There was no mother with a recipe book to send home to my new bride. No, what I’ve accomplished is because of my own doing.

I’ve earned and accomplished everything I’ve ever had, but it was all snatched away brutally, and I was left with only my brain and work ethic to make me rise again from the ashes of a disgraced family name.

It’s one of the reasons I came here to Alaska, where no one knew my family history.

“I know the statistics for both sides,” Tia answers, swirling the wine in her glass. “And I know all of you married me under the guise that I would do my very best to bear a child. You’ve already put up with so much from me, all of you have,” she says, looking around the table. “I owe it to all of you to at least try.”

It’s the truth and a relief to hear her say it.

I know better than most people that the statistics released by the Federal Government are propaganda. They tell people there is one woman for every ten men.

In reality, it’s becoming closer to fifteen to one.

Of course, no one wants to talk about that. It would only create pandemonium and fear. We already have enough of that.

Things do fare better here in the Pacific Northwest, and it’s the reason Warren Thorne has a state of the art, government-funded research facility in Seattle. Another reason why I came to Alaska to work at a world-renowned laboratory. The findings here are cutting edge and I am at the forefront of it, with much of the research funded by Salinger’s mother herself.

Of course, Tia’s father has access to even more classified research. He’s had the ability to perform tests that Alaska refuses to approve - and when I say Alaska - I really mean Salinger’s mother. She refuses to do any tests that might negatively impact the women participating.

It’s limiting, to say the least.

“So, you’ve made the decision by yourself?” Huxley says coldly.

“I...” Tia chews on her bottom lip.

“Why don’t you just go tomorrow,” Giles says. “Get more information. Nothing has to be decided right away.”

At that, I snort. “Except every time any of you sleep with her you’re putting her at risk. It seems convenient to start caring about the consequences after you’ve all had your way with her.”

“What, are you saying you care the most since you’ve abstained?” Fallon asks.

I can’t help but give a small smile that I know will annoy him to no end. “That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Tia’s eyes flash me a look of pure annoyance.

Emerson though, speaks up. “It’s true, in some ways, what Banks is saying. It hasn’t been very good of us to not think through the implications. Maybe leading with our heads over our hearts is the safer choice.”

I hate that I’m agreeing with Emerson, but I absolutely do. Leading with emotions never does anyone any good.

“So what?” Hux asks with a smirk. “Are you suggesting we all abstain until we make a choice on the pregnancy?”

Tia swallows hard as she looks around the room. I know how to read people, and I see something in her eyes. Relief.

“Would you all agree to that, without holding it against me?” she asks softly.

“Anything for you, Tia,” Salinger says.

I smile despite myself as all her men stoically consent to the request.

What is it with this woman - she can command an entire table of men, make everyone bend their knee and submit to her. She’s more powerful than she knows.

It makes me hungry in ways that surprise even me.

* * *

Most of the men leave early in the morning for their jobs. The only ones left are Giles, who’s still recovering from his injuries, and Emerson who’s been granted a couple weeks off because of the physical and mental strain he’d been through when his ship was torpedoed.

They both give me hard nods when I come into the kitchen, their easy banter subsiding as I pour a cup of coffee.

“Don’t stop talking on my account,” I say, taking a deep sip from my cup and leaning against the counter.

“We were just talking about Tia getting pregnant,” Giles says, sitting back in his chair. The scars on his face and arms are still an angry red, the same color as his hair. But the man is one lucky son of a bitch, as most men wouldn’t have survived what he’d gone through.

“About the dangers,” Emerson adds.

“There are dangers just getting out of bed in the morning,” I say. “You both put your lives at risk every time you go to work.”

“But this isn’t our lives. It’s Tia’s.”

“And hers is somehow more important than anyone else’s? I get that the two of you think you love her.”

“We do love her,” they say in unison.

“Fine. You love her. Then you’ll realize this is the only way to make sure she’s safe.”

“I don’t like it,” Emerson says. “So much could go wrong.”

“Yes.” I don’t sugarcoat it. “But she’s young. Healthy. And I’ve been working on a new drug--”

“Is that what this is about?” Giles sits up straighter. “You want to use her as a guinea pig?”

My jaw tightens because in a way I will be. But I believe in my research. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think I could keep her safe.”

“Is that a guarantee?” Giles asks.

“You know as well as I do that there are no guarantees in life.”

He mutters a curse under his breath.

“I trust Banks,” Tia says from the kitchen doorway. “You should too,” she says to Giles. “Without him, you wouldn’t be alive right now.” She looks back at me. “Are you ready to go?”

I take a deep swallow of my coffee, place the cup on the counter, then lead her out to the garage.

We drive in silence to the medical facility. In fact, we barely say two words to each other until we’re through security, and I usher her into the sterile white room where I spend most of my days.

Six large computer monitors line one wall, and another three laptops take up my metal desk. There’s nothing homey about my office. It’s hard and cold, just like me. But it’s here that I will save my wife. And maybe come one step closer to saving humanity and passing down my genes.

I move around the room, turning on computers, while Tia picks up a file on my desk and frowns as she flips through the pages.

“This is my father’s research,” she says.

“Yes.”

“How did you get it? Some of this is classified.”

I shrug. “Grace Ward is one of the world’s top hackers. Anything with a digital footprint isn’t safe. Thankfully she’s on our side.”

“Do you know Salinger’s mom very well?” She tilts her head, studying me.

“I’m not sure even Sal knows his mom well. She’s very secretive. But she’s brilliant. And while I don’t agree with all her methods, I do believe her intentions are good.”

“Some of this stuff is promising.” She picks up another file, her mouth pursing, brows drawn together as her gaze scans the pages.

I sit down at one of the monitors and type in my passcode.

“Wow.” She moves to lean against the desk, still reading. “Did you know that Alaska has had more live births per capita in the past three years than any country in the world?”

“Yes.” I don’t tell her that the reason is due to my research. The drug I invented, when administered properly, decreases maternal and fetal mortality by two hundred percent.

Because it’s there in the papers she’s got her nose buried in.

“This is you?” She looks up at me. “Your research.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“None of this is FDA- approved.” The fact that I’m allowing her to even read the document she’s holding shows how much trust I’m putting in her.

“Oh.” She frowns and keeps reading.

“There have been some side effects.” I inhale a slow breath, remembering the two women from the first group who suffered severe brain aneurysms. It was impossible to prove whether their deaths were the result of the drugs, the pregnancy, or just bad fucking luck. But their faces still haunt me.

“I’ve made some progress since the original trials,” I say.

“Can I see?” she asks.

I nod, and we spend the next several hours pouring over my research, over the results, the different genetic coding. It’s difficult to concentrate on all the data when all I can think about is how bad I want to be between her thighs, knocking her up with my baby.

“Do you have my file? The blood work that Salinger’s mom had drawn up.”

“That’s classified information. I can’t access it without Grace’s approval.”

“But you can access it?”

I study her. “I can.”

“Grace told Sal that there was something different about me. I want to know what it is.”

I tap my fingers on the table, then turn back to the screen and type in my passcode, before scrolling through the database, and finally finding what I’m looking for. After jumping through a few hoops, I manage to bring up Tia’s most recent lab results.

Tia leans beside me, her arm brushing mine, and I’m instantly hard. But I don’t think she has any clue what she does to me.

“There,” she says pointing at some numbers. “That’s an anomaly, right?”

Ignoring the painful erection that presses against my pants, I focus on what she’s pointing at.

“That can’t be right.” I scroll through her original blood work that was drawn up when she first entered the wife lottery and the numbers are the same.

“What does it mean?” she asks, so damn close I can feel her breath on my cheek, the heat of her body radiating between us, causing me to lose my focus, shredding my control.

“I don’t know.” I cough and lean back in my chair, dragging my fingers through my hair. Then one horrendous thought sucker punches me. I look over at her. “Did your father... did he ever experiment on you?”

Her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, and she looks away. “I think so.”

“You think so?” I sit up, anger tightening my chest.

“There’s a lot I don’t remember. But...”

I twist my chair towards her. “Tell me.”

“There’s one memory I have when I was about thirteen. I thought I had meningitis, but I think he may have injected something into my spinal cord.”

That rush of fear mixed with a sliver of hope is back.

“Jesus, Tia. Is it possible...?”

“What?”

I shake my head and start typing, sifting through years of data, the fragments of information Grace had provided me with until I find what I’m looking for.

“I think it’s possible you might be patient C65.” I turn the monitor so that she can read. “Until recently, it was thought that your father’s studies were conducted on rats, but there is evidence he was using women. Look at the similarity between your numbers.”

She frowns, her eyes scrolling through the words. “If it’s true...”

“You may hold the key to Warren Thorne’s most important work.”

“Wha-what happened to the others?”

I cringe. “Infertility. Illness. Death.”

“My-my father wouldn’t have done something that could have... could have killed me.”

I take her hand, understanding her not wanting to believe that someone who was supposed to love and protect her, would knowingly put her at risk. But wasn't that exactly what I was doing?

But this knowledge only amplifies my reasons to get her pregnant.

“If you are this patient, then it isn’t just Lawson who will be after you. You getting pregnant will be your father’s greatest case study.”

“You think what he did to me... helped? That maybe I’ll be able to carry a child to term? That I won’t...”

Die. I know her unasked question.

“I don’t know. Won’t until you carry a child.”

Her arms wrap around her chest and she shivers. She’s such a contradiction. Strong, yet vulnerable. Smart and determined, but still led too much by her damn emotions.

I know it’s wrong of me, but I use that weakness against her. For her own good. Because I will keep her safe, and I will bring a child into this world. For her, for the other men, for me... and for the future of this world.

“You want to protect the people you care about,” I say, taking her hands and leaning forward so that she meets my gaze. “Doing this, you not only protect your husbands and the woman on that damn list but when you survive this, you could provide the key to saving millions of women, help create countless new lives... new families.”

She chews on the inside of her lip. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

Even though it’s the answer I want, something inside of me squeezes and a small shiver of fear ices down my spine. I push the emotion away.

Can’t feel.

Won’t.

It’s too fucking dangerous.

“When can we start the fertility treatment?” she asks.

“Today.” I push my chair back and stand, then cross the room, pulling out a vial and syringe.

“To-today?” She stutters over the word. I hear the fear in it.

If I wasn’t so damn callous, I might try to comfort her, give her some reassuring words. But words and caresses don’t save lives.

“I’ll be injecting you with hCG and a follicle stimulating hormone.”

“Okay.” She twists her hands together.

I flick the syringe, then turn. “Take your pants off.”

Her cheeks go red.

“I need to inject this into a muscle, preferably your ass.”

“Oh, right.” Slowly, she undoes the button of her jeans and shifts them over her hips and steps out of them.

Jesus, the woman is fucking perfect. I’ve seen her naked before, but even in the harsh lighting of the office, her skin is flawless.

I swallow hard, ignoring the hard on that presses painfully against my slacks. “Hands on the counter and bend over.”

She lets out a shaky breath and does what I say.

I run my palm over the curve of her ass, and it takes all my self-control not to rip off her thong, unzip my fly, and bury myself balls deep inside of her.

“Christ, Tia,” I murmur. My hand itches to slap her soft, ivory skin, but I hold back. Instead, I inject her with the serum, then take a step back, adjusting myself before she sees the evidence of what she does to me. I say gruffly, “All done.”

She pulls her pants back on and turns. “How often do we have to do this?”

“Once a day.” A silent groan builds in my throat, knowing I’ll be this fucking close to her that often. “I’ll bring the syringes and vials home, so you don’t have to keep coming here.”

She nods, but says, “I think... I don’t think the others are going to be happy about this.”

“You’re not thinking about keeping it from them, are you?”

“No. There have already been too many secrets.” She gives a small smile, one filled with apology. “Plus, I’m going to have to tell them if I’m going to get pregnant.”

“Why’s that?”

She chuckles. “They’re kind of an essential part of this formula. And I did tell them last night that I needed a... break.”

“Oh, right.” And I realize the way she spoke about the men, about getting pregnant excluded me but I’ll be damned if I don’t have my way with her.

Your own damn fault, my mind reminds me. I know it’s true, but it still does something to me.

Hell if it isn’t jealousy that burns in my throat.

Push it down, every rational part of me warns. I have to keep my feelings in check and remain in control.

“You think this will work?” she asks. “That I’ll get pregnant before Lawson comes back?”

“I hope so. But if not, Salinger will give him that list.”

“I can’t let that happen.” She shakes her head, eyes wide.

So fucking self-sacrificing.

“Then you better start working on plan number two.” If I thought she could handle what I want to do to her, I’d start working on it right now. I might just do it anyway.

As if sensing my conflict, she moves towards me, her gaze holding mine. My balls get so fucking tight against my body when she places a hand on my chest.

I can see in her eyes what she wants, what she needs from me. But I’m not like her other husbands. I’m not wired the same way. There won’t be any gentle caresses from me, no secret kisses, or flowery words.

“We should go home,” I say.

“Home?” She gives a small pout, fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt. “I thought... I was hoping we could spend more time together.”

I know what she’s asking and I want to give it to her, but I’m not sure my self-restraint is good enough. I’ll end up breaking her. She’s still too damn fragile. Too innocent. Too good.

She’s stronger than you think.

Maybe my real fear isn’t if she can handle my deepest desires, but that she’ll reject me for them.

“Tia.” Her name is a warning on my lips.

“I’m going to do this. Get pregnant. I trust you to keep me safe. But there’s something I want from you.”

“What?”

“I want you to make love to me.”

“No.” I tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and tug gently.

She frowns up at me, hurt in her voice when she asks, “Why not?”

“I don’t make love, Tia. I fuck. And I fuck hard. Is that what you want? Do you think you’re ready to handle my demands?”

Her answer is a small whimper, “Yes.”

And with that, I know it shouldn’t be her I’m worried about breaking, but my own damn soul.