Chapter Forty-Two
Hellfire rained down on the elitist governor of Oregon, and Suede was glad to see that Mick Tennyson had no comment for the throng of eager investigative reporters at the governor’s mansion the morning after her story and York’s video aired. He certainly couldn’t deny what she’d said, and after hearing her version of life in his home, America woke up and took sides. Twitter crashed when people all over the world cried out in her defense. Facebook went wild. It seemed the world loved the young woman, who’d not only survived the neglect and abuse by powerbrokers the likes of York and Tennyson, but who’d stood up to them as well.
They called her brave and a fighter. An example to beleaguered women and girls everywhere. Out of the shadows, other women stepped forward with their horror stories of dates, weeks, and months spent living with York’s psychotic behavior. Not to be outdone were the dozens of claims of unwanted sexual advances, intimidation, and outright assaults by Oregon’s ‘charming’ governor—and his wife.
By then, Mick Tennyson’s political goose was deep-fried. The FBI cuffed him, courteously escorted him from the lavish home he’d never return to, and away he went in a black FBI van. Charges were pending. Micah and his crew caught it all on live TV.
And that deal between Micah and McQueen? To devote sufficient airtime to Suede’s unique plight. The investigative report lasted Two. Hours. Seemed Micah and his crew spent the time between Montana and New York City delving into Tennyson’s and York’s shady business dealings. Talk about a scoop.
Suede didn’t catch the live program thanks to Chance’s lack of a TV, but the recorded version that McQueen sent was just as good. She’d watched it earlier on Chance’s laptop from the comfort of his warm body where she’d been tucked in safe and sound. Odd. It was like watching a news story about someone she didn’t know.
A smile creased her lips at the scatterbrained look in her father’s eyes when he’d been trotted down the steps and away from the home Oregon’s taxpayers paid for. He deserved this comeuppance. If he only knew what Chance wanted to do to him, he might have considered himself lucky.
Lieutenant Governor Broderick Bale stepped up to the plate that afternoon as Oregon’s acting governor. Suede watched that too, via satellite link, this time from the kitchen where Chance and she were chopping vegetables for a pasta salad to go along with the venison roast in the rotisserie.
As his first official act, Bale held a press conference aimed at the Colombian degenerates in his town. He called out the National Guard to restore order to the streets and docks of Portland. He instituted a curfew, requested the state legislature to revamp the port authority selection process, and he invited Homeland Security to partner with him in making his state safe again.
“Green onions or purple?” Chance asked, a bunch of green onions in one hand, a succulent purple in his other.
“I like them both. You pick,” Suede told him. They’d both dressed in jeans. She’d topped hers off with one of Chance’s button-up shirts, the sleeves rolled up. He wore a dark blue henley.
By then, Pagan was in the air. Kruze was already in Portland. She didn’t know why, but she knew better than to ask. McQueen was back in D.C., but he’d called to make certain she’d seen the news.
“English cucumbers or regular? I’ve got both.”
She finished slicing the first of two sweet peppers, one red and one green. “It doesn’t matter to me. Exactly why are we making this dinner?”
Chance’s brows lifted. “No special reason.”
Shaking her head, she resumed her chore while he tended to his. Her nose filled with the pleasant aromas of—home. The venison bubbling on the rack and the scents permeating the kitchen was nice, but that subtle hint of wind, sun, and Chance that she adored? Priceless.
She drew in another breath, relishing this moment in her life when everything was absolutely perfect. If she could freeze-frame it, she’d keep it in a locket around her neck and save it for the hard days ahead. Because Chance was right. This thing wasn’t over, and she suspected the man she feared most would still come for her, or that he’d send someone to kill the Sin boys she now loved.
When chopping and rinsing were complete, the veggies went into a giant bowl with the rotini. The rainbow colored version. Black olives joined the mixture, then Chance’s secret family recipe, a bottle of store bought vinaigrette.
“Oh, no!” she squealed, surprised he’d ruin a fabulous dish with off the shelf dressing. “You don’t make your own?”
“Who me? Make salad dressing? Are you serious?” He winked at her. “I’m a guy. This is good enough—”
“But it’s not,” she corrected. “I’ll make my version next time, then you’ll know the difference between good, better, and best.”
He tossed the towel he’d dried his hands with into the sink. In two steps, she found herself in his arms and giggling. “Baby, I’ve already got the best,” he growled before he covered her waiting mouth with his, nibbling at her lips like they were on the menu.
They danced right there in the kitchen, and Suede couldn’t recall another day so fine. She knew he’d be off to another mission before long, maybe sooner than she liked, but for this one shining moment, she was that storybook princess and he was her knight in shining armor.
“Hmm,” she moaned, her cheek against his broad chest, her favorite place in the whole world. “There’s something I should tell you.”
Sexy maple eyes melted all over her. “What now?”
“I’ve fallen for you,” she breathed.
He grimaced as he dipped her backward, her head nearly to the floor. “That’s not funny.”
They never made it to dinner, and those jeans and shirts? Suede hadn’t a clue where they landed between the kitchen and the fireplace.
They went after each other like hungry savages, tearing clothes off, grinding lips and teeth while they fired each other up. The back of the couch served as a pillow when Chance took her from behind the first time, but now… She moaned as he stretched her arms over her head and straddled her, ruthlessly plundering her mouth, nipping at her lips and chin, her neck, as if dinner wasn’t waiting a room away. Feverishly hot, his cock pressed against her belly, inciting her with its hard, slow promise.
She licked up his neck to the underside of his chin, pinned to the blanket she hadn’t known he’d previously spread in preparation for this moment. Way up high in the rafters, tiny stars glittered down at her, and she was pretty sure they were leftovers from her last coming, because wow. Chance knew how to make her ache for more, more, more.
As usual after their initial frenzy, he’d shifted into a gentler, more deliberate gear, anointing her eyelids as he released her hands and cupped her breasts. Dropping his head, he captured her nipple in his hot mouth. The resounding jolt to her core thrilled her every time.
Buzzing with pleasure, she shifted her fingers from his muscular back down to his taut ass. A shiver rippled up his spine. He speared her with one quick thrust that left her pleasantly full and panting. Arching, she pushed her breast into that amazing mouth, and they were doing it again. Climbing higher and higher. Reaching for the stars. Falling into each other.
Sex had never been so thoroughly intense or so satisfying before Chance. But she wanted him to come first this time. She wanted that final thrust when he growled his pleasure. Not happening. She had no resistance against the fuse he’d lit in her core and... and...
“Come for me,” he commanded, like she had a choice. The orgasm rippled from her core to her fingertips, clenching him in the same fierce grip she found herself lost in. Aftershocks took over then, leaving her breathless and her lips on his collarbone, nuzzling and loving the scent of his skin, craving his all male body and the honorable soul that came with it.
Still connected, he eased back enough to rub his nose on her chin before his lips found her mouth. “I fell hard for you, Suede Tennyson,” he said, the scent of peppermint washing over her face. “So damned hard. You’re the spark in my life. You make me want to live.”
It all came down to that, her living through that first terrible night, his making sure she did. “You could’ve left me,” she murmured, hating the way she needed him. Love was a funny, scary thing that had let her down in the past. Could this thing with Chance be real? Could it be as good as it seemed? Sometimes she wondered.
“Not happening, baby. I hold onto what’s mine, and…” He ground his hips against hers, lighting her core again. Did that thing never get enough? “You’re all mine.”
A smile broke out of her heart at the way he called her baby. Other guys said baby like she was a thing, but when he said it, she felt like she was his whole world. Threading her fingers through his thick, soft hair, she pressed her lips to his. His answering growl was all she needed to know. This was her mission in life now. To keep Chance happy.
And alive...