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Always (Family Justice Book 1) by Halliday, Suzanne (29)

“THAT WENT SORT OF WELL, don’t you think?”

Alex reefed the polo shirt he’d worn over his head, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it across the wardrobe into a hamper. When it sank into the basket, he laughed and pointed. “I want ten points for that shot!”

She had to laugh. Boys will always be boys, no matter the age. They could be discussing a matter of global importance, but if something even remotely sports-like happened or if the standings on some imaginary lifetime scoreboard were at stake, point spreads and questionable skill levels always won.

Of course, the moment his broad, muscular chest was revealed, she had her own internal dialogue going on. Yeah, she hoped they were doing the right thing where Calder and Stephanie were concerned, but at the moment, her fingers were itching to get at Alex’s impressive masculine physique. Seriously. The man was one damn fine specimen of hotness.

Caught ogling his body, he grabbed her about the waist and swung her close—until her hips collided with his and she was left with little doubt what was on his mind. Keeping her banded tight against him, her hunky lover leaned in and swiftly tongued her earlobe.

“Went well? Yes. But that’s it. I’m done helping him pull his head out of his ass. If my uncle can’t figure out how to act like an adult, it’s his fucking problem.”

Meghan looped her arms around his neck and shimmied—chest to chest. She had on a loose silk camisole with a delicate and flimsy bra beneath and a pair of matching panties that she wouldn’t miss when they got torn off.

Kissing his neck, she left a trail of tiny nips and licks along his jawline. “I love Tori. She’s the sister I never had, and Lacey, too. Stephanie did an amazing job all on her own. I hope Calder steps up.”

“Me too, love.”

“Alex?”

“Mmmmm?”

“I’ve been thinking…”

He instantly pulled back and searched her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking about something and…”

Alex swatted her playfully on the ass, earning him a surprised squeal and her a jolt of pure pleasure that zapped straight to her core.

“No thinking right now, Ms. O’Brien. All your thinking is done for the day. Now’s the time to feel. Just put yourself in my hands and let everything else go.”

“But…”

“No. Give your head a rest, sweetheart. Let me love you, Meghan. Forget all that other noise. Just you and me. I need you, baby.”

Now what was a good girl supposed to say to such a sweet command? Forget the noise? Let me love you? Goddamn. He was so perfect. She had something she wanted to talk about, but it could wait. The right time would present itself. Besides, when he got that husky timbre in his voice and she felt where her body pressed to his that he was bent on one thing, she folded pretty quickly. And easily. Nothing compared to Alexander Valleja-Marquez when he was moved by pure emotion. Nobody did it better.

Yesterday he’d asked if she knew he loved her and she’d taunted him that he’d said it that way because he was about to handle her in a way that love had little to do with it.

But this. Well, this was what usually followed after he’d been particularly demanding or had challenged her limits. One moment—fierce, savage, primitive. Next—slow, seductive, and intense.

Wrapping his arms around her tight, Meghan sighed and relaxed into the embrace. “No fucking tonight, my Goddess. We make love. I need you in here,” he murmured as he took her fingers and pressed them on the skin above his heart.

The glittering diamond ring he’d slid onto her hand when he asked her to marry him twinkled in the lamplight. She loved this man more than she thought it possible to love another.

Once he got started, she wouldn’t be able to speak, so she had to act quickly if there was anything worth saying. And oh hell yeah—there was. About a month ago, she’d had the delicate, engraved charms from the bracelet that had been his gift of contrition after they’d been apart put on a long chain that hung between her breasts. There, resting near her heart, nestled in the soft heat of her flesh were the twin hearts that said Mine and Yours. She wore the chain all the time. Liked the reminder touching her skin.

“I love you,” she murmured softly, her hands having found their way into his hair. Scraping her fingers on his scalp, she grabbed on tight for emphasis. “I love YOU,” she added forcefully. “You. My wonderful, sexy Major. My wickedly raunchy Thunder Cock. I love you.”

There. She said it. It needed to be said every damn day—maybe several times because the passage of time had only made her devotion and commitment to this man deeper and stronger. His integrity called to her through time and distance and brought her to him. She’d been his from the second they laid eyes upon each other. Even when he’d cruelly sent her away, when she could have hated him, Meghan had clung to this hopeless, helpless, all-encompassing love she felt for Alex. Whether the primal sexy beast or the old-school, well-mannered aristocrat with the heart of a true romantic—she’d die for him.

He stared into her eyes and saw the very depths of her soul. She was the luckiest girl in the world. To be looked upon with so much emotion melted Meghan’s heart. Gently tugging on the chain that lay on her skin, she caressed the meaningful charms and let the hunger she felt shine through her expression. “Yours,” she husked.

“Mine,” he growled in answer, as his big hands grabbed onto her butt and ground her body against his.

This intimate ritual was their private vows. Right here was the goddamn reason why she’d never, ever allow a prenup. It was all or nothing from the depths of her soul.

Answering his butt grab, she tugged on his hair, spearing her fingers just a bit more forcefully. “Mine,” she groaned as she lowered her mouth to his neck and bit him hard.

“Unf,” he grunted with a sexy shudder. She smiled. One good nibble and he was a goner.

“Yours,” he returned, passion evident in his voice.

She hoped it would always be this way, and if she had anything to say about their future—it would.

“Let me undress you, darling,” he growled on the surface of her skin making her tremble all over.

And he did. Oh, so very slowly. So slowly, it was like torture. Every single inch of her flesh was uncovered, stroked, kissed, praised, worshipped. He kept up a never-ending stream of comments in a tight, husky voice as she tried to remain standing and focus on his words.

He’d meant what he said about making love to her. He did. All night. Several times. Over and over until she was too spent to move. She’d writhed and moaned underneath him. Rode him like a true cowgirl as their simultaneous grunts filled the air. He’d licked her pussy with such reverence and passion that she’d cried. He’d made her come so many times she didn’t want to count. Big orgasms. Smaller, more skin prickling climaxes. Wild, slow, fast, and deep. They did it all. And then some.

When she was exhausted, satiated, drained—he gathered her close like a small child and wiped away the sweat-soaked strands of hair that stuck to her face and neck. “I’ve loved you from the moment we met.”

“Thank you,” she choked out in a small voice. “Thank you for loving me.”

“I will always love you.”

“HOW DO YOU THINK TORI and Drae are?” Lacey asked as she finished changing Dylan’s nappy and slid him into a warm pair of footed pajamas adorned with cute little teddy bears. Before she’d finished with the snaps, Cameron swept in over her shoulder and whooshed her son into his capable arms with a cheeky grin.

“They’re fine and let’s not talk about those two just now. I’m sure once Victoria vented about his injuries she’d go into possessive wife mode. It’s what he needs,” he sniggered. “Pussy.”

Lacey hissed her disapproval. “Daddy—you are making me crazy. What if his first word is…” She put her fingers over Dylan’s ears and mouthed the word pussy.

Cameron obviously found all this highly amusing because he let loose with a gleeful laugh, swinging the baby over his head and cooing in Dylan’s face.

“Pussy is a fine word. So versatile. So many meanings. I think it’s a good thing to have a broad vocabulary, don’t you agree, my boy?”

Wiping down the changing table, she grinned at her two boys. Except for the jagged stitched skin on her husband’s temple and the fact that Dylan had considerably less hair, the two were mirror images. Yes, you could see her contribution to the baby’s features, but as he grew and developed, he was taking on more and more of his father’s characteristics.

Like how serious he sometimes appeared. Not quite brooding but definitely an intensity that reminded her of those early days after she and Cameron had first met. When they were trying to figure each other out. Their son had that soulful intensity. He was going to break quite a few hearts someday. She sighed.

Dylan’s latest achievement had been discovering his hands, one of which he was avidly chewing now from his perch on Daddy’s shoulder. Cameron carried their beautiful son into their bedroom while he also kept a tight grip on Lacey’s hand. She loved that he was so obvious about his need for her nearness. It made her feel wanted and cherished in a way that healed her wounded heart. They’d been together for a year, and finally, she didn’t feel like an abandoned and lost little girl anymore. She had her husband and son. And this amazing family that she felt so secure as a part of.

They crawled into bed together and put the baby on his back between where they each lay on their sides. She loved this nighttime routine. It wouldn’t always be this way—simple, unhurried, new. Someday, probably soon, as Dylan grew, their lives would become even more busy and hectic, and less about quiet moments. She wanted to remember these early days when their family was in its infancy—forever.

Kissing the baby on his forehead, she rested her head in the palm of her hand and smiled. “Okay, Mr. Justice, sir. I’ve tried not to pry, but the curiosity is killing me. What secret does Captain Sawyer have and where is he off to?”

Cameron looked genuinely surprised at her question. Really? Were all men this thick? She’d resisted the temptation to cross-examine him when the subject first came up, but now she just had to know what was going on. It was one thing for Betty, Carmen, and Ria to keep her and Meghan in the dark so they didn’t accidentally spoil any of the many surprises they had planned for Tori and her mom. And another thing altogether to imagine either of them wouldn’t at some point try to get a peek at the plans.

Cameron chuckled and popped her on the nose with the end of a finger. “Curiosity, meet the cat,” he teased. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

“Ha, ha, ha. That was then and this is now. It’s big, whatever it is, and I hate surprises…”

Barking a laugh that he quickly quieted because the baby was starting to drift, he quirked an expressive eyebrow at her. “Since when do you hate surprises? Who the fuck are you kidding? “

She had to laugh. He was right. Surprises were a special passion that she’d come to love. After struggling for so many years just to keep one foot in front of the other for survival, she’d been accustomed to planning out every moment of every day. Surprises were rarely a good thing and usually unwelcome during those bleak times. Now, she relished the way her heart leaped with joy each time something new and unexpected occurred.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered. “So you got me. I looooove surprises. But this one I need to know. Pretty, please. Cherry on top?”

“Nope,” he drawled. “For once, the guys have more information than you women and I kinda like those odds.

“Well my darling,” she taunted as she rose slowly, stretching like a cat, and slid off the bed. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

Swinging her hips like a burlesque queen as she exited the room. She looked back over her shoulder, knowing that he’d be staring at her ass before turning the corner to the en suite and said, “When he’s finally asleep, he can go in the crib. Make sure the baby monitor is on. I’m going to take a quick shower. Be out in a bit.”

“Mommy’s up to something,” Cam chuckled as he wrapped Dylan more securely in his blanket. Watching his son’s eyes slowly close and his body relax into sleep, he was struck yet again by how fucking perfect the last year had been. His Ponytail had changed everything. The baby was just the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned.

He heard the steady hiss of the shower pounding on the tile enclosure as Dylan fell into a deep sleep. A few minutes later, he lowered the growing boy into the magnificent wood crib that Draegyn had designed and built. Cam no longer tried to pretend that he wasn’t overcome with deep emotion each time he saw his beautiful son, healthy and safe, in the handmade treasure that would eventually transform from crib to junior bed.

His brother was going to be an incredible father and Drae’s mind-numbing devotion to Tori made the couple’s unconventional love story unforgettable. And Alex. Jesus. About to marry a truly remarkable woman. It was still the three of them. Team Justice. But things were changing every day. They were making families, chasing the future with different priorities than the ones that drove those first intense and hungry years after the Special Forces.

The time had come for them to have a team meeting. They’d accomplished most everything they set out to when the agency started. The three of them were older, wiser, and not so driven by demons, shadows, and ghosts. It was time they looked to the future—harnessed their unique energies and skills to create something even more phenomenal. Families.

Back in their cozy bedroom, Cam cracked the French doors opening to a private deck and enjoyed the brisk feel of the late November nighttime air. There was a bite to it that filled him with resolve. Touching the jagged seam of stitches on his forehead, he felt something shift inside.

He was in his own home, one he helped build, with the woman who made him complete right there at his side, the whole way. She’d given him a son. They were making a family out here in the desert. His priorities had changed. It was time.

“Babe,” he called out to her. He could hear her moving about in the enormous wardrobe that lay between the bedroom and the bathroom suite. “I want to talk to you about something.”

The soft scent of her favorite perfume wafted into the bedroom. It hit him like a tsunami with wave after wave of increasing desire for he knew what the scent signaled. She was finished readying herself and as was her habit, would spray a cloud of the perfume into which she twirled and swirled just before she came to him. The thud of lust that dropped on him was staggering in its intensity.

Shutting the doors, Cam turned back into the dimly lit room and stopped cold. What in God’s name was she wearing? And holy hell, when had her tits gotten that voluptuous? Oh right. Right. The baby. Yeah. The baby. But seriously…was she trying to kill him?

“Now,” she purred. “Where were we? Hmmmm?” Lacey strutted from the back of the room heading straight for him. “You have a secret and didn’t you just say you had something you wanted to talk about? So, let’s talk,” she smirked with a sly lowering of her eyes.

Talk? Who was she kidding?

“What in the hell is that you’re wearing?” Cam wheezed breathlessly. Shit the closer she got to him, the more oxygen he needed to keep him upright as all the blood in his body raced into his cock.

“Oh. This little thing?” she said twinkling her fingers at the scrap of sheer black lace that was robbing him of his ability to think. “Um, it’s got a funny name actually.” Adjusting the edge of her practically see-thru black panties, she made a feminine little pout and giggled. “They call this a Merry Widow. What do you think?”

Again—think? Who was she kidding? Thinking was not an option. Not when she stood before him—blond hair tousled about her shoulders, the gold heart he’d given her dangling from her throat, wearing thigh-high black stockings held up by fancy garters that hung from the edge of a sheer black lace bustier with delicate floral inserts barely covering her tits. And for good measure, she added a perfect pair of kitten-heeled slippers with a poof of feathers.

No use in pretending. Cam immediately gave in. “What the fuck do you want to know?” he growled. He’d surrender top-secret info just then if it meant he got to peel those decadent stockings off her magnificent legs. She was dressed for bold, flat-out, in-your-face seduction. She had him in under thirty seconds.

Rocking those gorgeous hips, she swung away to bend a bit and shake her hair while she checked her reflection in a table mirror. Cam grunted when he saw her ass with the thinnest scrap of black material that made up the back of the tiny panties she wore.

Surely, Lacey’s backside qualified for wonders of the world status. She was damn lucky he didn’t shove her against the wall, tear off the flimsy silk and fuck her mercilessly from behind for provoking him with her beautiful ass.

“I want to know what Sawyer knows.”

Right. The secret. Decision time.

“You love Tori, right? Want her to have a special day that she’ll remember forever?”

“Wow,” she murmured. “You know a lot. Tori is my big sister. We all want to do this for her. She didn’t have a wedding, which sucks. But telling me whatever Sawyer knows won’t change anything about what’s planned. Soooo, pleasssssse.”

“I will tell you that this is a Big Daddy special. Alex is pulling out all the stops. For that reason, my beloved, and for that reason alone, I won’t tell you anything more. Dad is bringing something to the table, and I think what he’s planning is absolutely deserving of being a total surprise. Be happy for Tori, sweetheart. You’re doing something really sweet and special for her.”

“Oh. All right,” she pouted with an edge of brattiness. Everyone knew Alex being involved was the ultimate trump card.

“So, how did you see this playing out, princess? Is it to be heads or tails? And just so you know—in either case I will be removing the stockings with my teeth.”

Lacey did the best vampish swagger and come hither look she’d ever mustered, going to the bed and bending over with her hands slung low on the bedpost. Swinging her ass like a pro she coyly replied, “Well we have about ninety minutes by the Dylan clock so whatever it ends up being—time management, honey. It’ll all be about time management.”