MMMM. HE ALWAYS SMELLS SO good, Tori thought as she snuggled the best she could into her husband’s chest. She liked Draegyn in pretty much anything he put on. But it was the worn jeans, some with rips and tears, and the washed-out t-shirts that he favored when he was working on a project that hit a certain button deep inside and always made Tori go weak-kneed. Dressed down as he was, it made her cool, sophisticated, worldly husband more approachable and down-to-earth.
Curling up on his big lap was a guilty, not-so-secret pleasure. It was one of the benefits of being on the petite side when one’s husband was a freakin’ Nordic god. But right now, her belly was preventing Tori from wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him an audacious lap squirm. Fuck my pregnant life.
Oh, she wasn’t complaining. Not really. Okay, maybe just a little, but wasn’t that to be expected? Practically the second she learned that Draegyn had been a big baby, she’d felt doomed. Not only wasn’t she all that big, but she was also slim-hipped. Putting a pregnant belly on her body with a child genetically predisposed to be large was almost mean.
I mean, shit. Throwing up non-stop for months hadn’t been a walk in the park. Nor had the swollen ankles, the constant heartburn, the aching back, and the exhausting, endless trips to the bathroom. Ugh. Bottom line—she was just worn the fuck down.
Most of the time, she felt like crying for no reason. When she couldn’t maneuver out of bed the other night—no matter how hard she tried to wiggle upright—she lay there and bawled like a baby until Drae heard the commotion and came to her rescue.
And that was the real problem. He wasn’t by her side in the big bed. Though he was, in fact, right there, camping on the sofa on the other side of their master suite, it was a far cry from lying a foot away from someone. She missed him, his absence from their bed was confusing her, and all that ended up doing was make her cry some more. It was a vicious, endless cycle.
She held very still—wishing she could crawl inside his skin, not wanting him to end the embrace. Laying there, inhaling his scent, listening to the strong beat of his heart under her cheek was like instant serenity for Tori. Her back didn’t ache, she felt happy and confident, and their baby was safe. The hand at the end of the arm curved protectively around her waist and hip was splayed against the bottom of her tummy, almost like he was carrying the burden for her. His other hand was gently rubbing around her belly button in smooth circles that felt heavenly. Would it be too much to ask that the next six weeks fade away and they could remain just like that until the big moment came? Yeah. Probably.
“I’m glad your mom’s coming to stay,” he whispered. “She’ll be a big help. I don’t feel like I do enough for you, honey. You need a women’s support, maybe.”
Aw, shit. Here we go again, she thought. Why were men so damn stupid? Had she done or said anything, anything at all, that implied he hadn’t been taking great care of her? No. But that was what the noise in his head was running on a continuous loop. Dammit. He’d done plenty but what she needed from him the most right now, she didn’t know how to ask for.
Tori was excruciatingly aware of Draegyn’s physical absence. She was pregnant-horny around the damn clock—but at her last check-up, the stupid doctor blurted out in front of her impressionable husband that they might want to play it safe with their sexual activity. Fuck it if the overwrought father-in-waiting she was married to didn’t take that as a prescription to halt all intimate contact, physical or otherwise, for the duration.
She’d given up trying to entice him back into their bed. Shaped like an over-ripe pumpkin, Tori was ten steps removed from pretending even a little bit to be sexually alluring. Him being all stoic and controlled while she was so desperate and clingy was making her nuts.
Maybe having her mom around would act as a pressure valve. Give them a break. After all, it wasn’t long now. Just thinking about the joy of holding their baby in her arms, Tori became swamped with emotion. Clutching at his t-shirt, she wiggled on his lap and started pressing hot kisses to his neck and chin. They made a baby together. She and her sexy-as-fuck secret agent man. It felt so damn good being in his arms, feeling his spectacular chest rise and fall against her. And he tasted as good as he smelled, too. Sort of like hot sunlight on sweaty flesh.
She heard him moan, his chin angling away from her so she had better access to his throat. His hand stopped moving and the embrace he held her in became firmer, greedier. Somehow, she managed to slip her hand under his t-shirt, sweeping up across his muscled chest, using her sense of touch to locate his nipples. Scraping her nails on his flesh, she let her hunger explode, groaning and whimpering while she devoured him with her mouth.
When he reached for one of her swollen breasts, she moaned at the contact and shuddered from head to toe. Next thing she knew, his hand was in her hair, holding her head at the perfect angle as he gorged on her mouth with a kiss that was carnal and provocative.
This was what she knew, how it had always been with Draegyn. The physical connection, the way it blazed red-hot. When his tongue invaded her mouth, everything else faded into insignificance. He loved her. She could taste it. The world was a perfect place.
But all too soon, she sensed him begin to withdraw. It was inevitable. He tried to keep their ardor on the back burner, but it never lasted very long. This was becoming their norm. They’d have a quiet moment that suddenly became the towering fucking inferno—mostly because he just couldn’t not respond—and for a bit they would get lost in all those feelings. Until he remembered and pulled away.
“Draegyn, please,” she groaned.
“Honey, don’t,” he begged. “You know what the doctor said.”
Ohhh that made her so mad! Stupid damn male doctor. She wasn’t asking him to fuck her unconscious. All she really wanted was a great make-out session; hopefully, one that ended with some orgasmic relief. For both of them.
“Draegyn St. John. You coward. You know damn straight that the doctor did not flail his arms and screech, Warning Will Robinson. All he said was to take it easy. Not, take a vow of celibacy.”
Draegyn muttered something unkind about the doctor under his breath. “Sweetheart, look,” he told her while grasping both of her hands in his one. “I can’t take any chances with you or our baby. It’s better this way—you’ll see. By the time we can make love again, it’ll seem like a new beginning. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No,” she grumbled.
“C’mon, Victoria. Don’t pout. You know that shit makes me crazy.”
She huffed and bit her lip to stop the tears from falling. Shit. More waterworks. Fantastic.
“Draegyn…I’m scared and I feel like shit all the time. My body is like a stranger to me, and all of a sudden, you’re not there.”
“I know it seems that way, honey, but I’m right here by your side. See—that’s why we need your mother. To help keep your chin up. It’ll make me feel better to know there’s another woman around. What I know about being pregnant and having a kid could be written on one side of a dime. Stephanie will know what to do.”
Yeah. Whatever. Cutting to the chase now. “I want you to sleep in our bed tonight.”
“Victoria,” he started to grumble.
“No. Don’t Victoria me. I want you in that bed. Tonight, Mr. St. John—no excuses. You say you just want to keep us safe. Well, how safe is it for me not to get a decent night’s sleep? Huh? Think about it. I thought you were the cool, analytical one. I need you to hold me. Is that too damn much to ask?”
Fucking waterworks. Shit. She knew it didn’t take long for things to get ugly. Only took a minute for snot to start pouring from her nose and for her face to become blotchy and hot. Were all pregnant women this desperate and pathetic?
Jesus Christ, Drae thought as he tilted his head to get a better view of his wife’s face. The forlorn, miserable expression he found cut through him like a hot knife through butter.
Sliding out from beneath her, he settled Victoria in the new chair and hurried to the baby’s dressing table where he grabbed a box of tissues and returned to her side. God, he hated seeing her like this. Hated being the reason for it. He was afraid of hurting her or the baby so he kept his distance. She was in this predicament because he’d gotten her pregnant. No matter how he looked at it, Drae was the villain.
Kneeling at her feet, he pulled five or six tissues from the box and mopped up the cascade of tears, murmuring the whole time gently.
“I love you, Victoria St. John. Don’t you wimp out on me now, honey.”
She was trying to rein in her tears but having one hell of a time. Each of her pitiful sobs tore at his heart. Grasping at straws, he promised to come back to their bed, hoping she’d calm down with his assurance.
“Do you mean it?” she whimpered, her shoulders shaking from the effort to block a new round of tears.
“Yes. Of course, I mean it. I’ll even build you a pillow fortress so you can be comfortable.”
Suddenly, she clutched frantically at his shirt. “Make it a promise, Draegyn. Promise me you’ll come back to our bed.”
“Shhh, shhh, honey. Yes, it’s a promise. Just please stop crying, okay? I don’t think my heart can survive any more of your tears.”
Fuck. He needed to have a talk with Cam. Find out if Lacey lost her shit near the end of their pregnancy. Somehow, he didn’t think so. Those two were living some sort of charmed life. Lacey never seemed to have any pregnancy issues; in fact, she positively glowed right through those last weeks and after Dylan was born. He doubted she’d been a hysterical mess, crying over every little thing and feeling like her body was being remote controlled by someone with a sick sense of humor.
“WE’LL STOP AT THE MAIN house first, Stephanie. That way you can check in with Carmen before heading off to Drae’s.”
Stephanie chuckled and started gathering herself together now that the car had turned onto the long drive leading to the compound. “Carmen is a treasure, Alex. I hope you know that. I’d kill for a housekeeper like her.”
“No argument there,” he answered drily. “She’s part drill sergeant, part Mother Superior, and part Julie the Cruise Director. The Villa would fall apart in less than a day without her directing every little thing that goes on there!”
“She’s been texting me. Apparently, she kept notes from my visits. I nearly died!” she chuckled. “Somewhere on her iPad is a list of my likes and dislikes. No, seriously,” she hiccupped with laughter when Alex looked at her like she was full of it. “Swear to God. She even picked up a supply of my favorite English breakfast tea.”
The pithy Marquez humor made an appearance when he quipped, “Well then, I guess she won’t get fired today.”
Stephanie grinned broadly and laid down some heavy Georgia twang. “Fire her. Oh please, shugah!” she drawled. “That woman is more valuable than anything the doctor ordered. I’d hire her away from you right now if I could.”
“Mmmm,” he chuckled, his chest wobbling from the rumbling laughter. “What am I supposed to do with all you high-handed women invading my manly world and upsetting the balance?”
“Why, Major Marquez, you poor, poor baby! Surrounded by smart, savvy ladies who, pardon my language, take no shit and never apologize for being totally awesome. What a horrible fate for a big, strong, manly man like yourself,” she cooed while dramatically batting her eyes.
His look of panicked indecision—was she serious or just messing with him—struck her as hilariously funny. Men. She sighed and let him off the hook with an excited burble of giggles.
“Relax, shugah,” she drawled slowly. “I’m just saying to enjoy the moment darlin’. Don’t be a putz about handing over control now that you’re going to be a respectable married man. The women of Family Justice are a gift. Meghan will make a spectacular wife for you, Major. Will she be at the Villa as well?”
He ran his palms along his trousers again, and she quickly hid a knowing snicker. She’d known this man for some time and never in all those years had he ever put out any sort of a sexual vibe. It was something she’d come to like and respect about Alex Marquez. It was those damned manners and the fact that obviously his mama had raised her boy right. They had a business relationship first and a friendship second. This was followed by a complicated union of endeavors with her as the pushy mother and him the good guy to the rescue. And finally now as quasi-family members connected through Victoria’s marriage to one of his Justice Brothers.
But, oh dear, sweet baby Jesus, since the curvy, vivacious Meghan O’Brien had come bursting into his life, she’d been causing all sorts of havoc and mayhem. And he’d been a simmering caldron of manly virility, set on the back burner, but always one-step short of boiling over. It was amusing and damn provocative, too. Good for him, she thought for the hundredth time. All bullshit aside, she was fond of Alex; he was one of the good guys. It was perfect and oh so right that the universe had dropped the Irish bombshell onto his lap.
Alex sat forward slightly and peered out the car window like he suddenly couldn’t wait to reach their destination. Lord, he was adorable.
“Yeah, she’ll be waiting for us,” he murmured. “Hopefully.”
It was downright refreshing to see such unabashed joy right in front of you. Especially since she’d known the serious, businesslike, impeccably sober side of the man. Why, the second she’d mentioned his lively fiancée, he was practically chomping at the bit to go find her. Lucky gal, Stephanie reflected.
In another minute, the big, sleek limo slowed to a stop amidst the clutter of vehicles scattered along the driveway. As usual, the hacienda, the actual main house of Villa de Valleja-Marquez and the hub of all things Justice within the compound, was a magnificent sight. Being here was like stepping into a different world. She was coming to appreciate the raw beauty and splendor of the Southwest.
The car door opened as Ben efficiently did the honors while Alex asked, “May I help you with anything?” He sounded distracted, and this time she did laugh at him.
“Oh, good Lord, Alex. Go find your woman and stop fussing over me. I’ll be along in a moment. You can be sure Ben will see to everything. Run along now.”
He leaned over and heartily kissed her cheek with a loud smooch. “You fucking rock, Ms. Bennett,” he chuckled. “Damn glad you’re here. We’ve got our work cut out for us, hmmm?”
She smirked in agreement and gave him a mild push out the car door. “Go find that wicked redhead to kiss.”
He laughed and then quite literally bounded from the car like an anxious puppy longing for his master. She watched in astonishment as Alex hurried along the walkway and flung open the heavy, wide Spanish door. She could just barely make out his booming voice as he called out, “Where’s my woman?” Wow. Was it petulant and bitchy to be jealous of someone else’s happiness?
She was leaning against the side of the car, absorbing the quiet natural beauty and the glory of a desert autumn day as Ben unloaded her luggage when she heard Carmen approach.
“Holà, Stephanie,” the Latino woman boomed. “Welcome back.”
She smiled warmly at the gregarious woman and grabbed hold for a genuine hug. Stephanie loved Carmen. A decade her senior and from a completely different culture, they’d become fast friends due more to their similarities than differences. Each was tenacious about family, doing the right thing and giving more than taking.
“It’s so good to see you, honey,” Stephanie gushed with a good dose of Southern drawl. Stepping back to smile broadly into the housekeeper’s face, she waggled an eyebrow and quirked a crooked grin. “Had to escape the kissing booth, hmmm?”
They both roared with laughter. Carmen nodded her head at the house and crowed in a conspiratorial whisper, “Still have the air conditioning on. From the heat. Wink, wink,” she finished with a hilarious exaggerated wink.
Wrapping her arm through Carmen’s, the two friends ambled up the walk, taking their good ol’ time so the young lovers could have their moment.
“Ah, true love, yes?” Carmen uttered on a sigh.
“Indeed,” Stephanie replied, hugging the other woman’s arm close. “Speaking of which, how’s Gus doing these days? Still behaving himself?”
“Oh, shhh!” Carmen gasped, her eyes darting around to make sure no one heard the comment. Lord, the lady was priceless. Didn’t matter how young or old you were when love appeared on your doorstep, well…
“Don’t you be shushing me, darling. That old coot finally take his head out of his butt and start wooing you or what?”
Speaking low, in a hushed whisper, Carmen said, “A little of both. Men, is that right?” she asked in that cute way she had when her emotions straddled two cultures.
“Yes, my friend. Men!”
They laughed and stopped right outside the door to the Villa. In her very best majordomo voice, Carmen waved her inside graciously and announced, “Welcome to the Love Shack.”