Justice (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 2) (22 page)

“Me! Me! Me!” Jade shouted, bouncing up and down.

“Damn. Looks like she’s going for it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, lounging back.

Walker stood up straighter.

I hoped to hell no one got in Jade’s way. There’d been no bloodshed so far, but this was Jade from the Special War Ministry we were talking about. The woman could kick ass and slip into any deadly situation undetected . . . the one who made Walker smile at her like she was a goddamn goddess without the dark side we all possessed . . .

Looked like Walker’s question about
popping
the question was answered.

He watched avidly—amusement tugging his lips—as the countdown began and Jade crouched into fighting stance.

“She’s not gonna hurt anyone, is she?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You never know. But we got Bane on hand to patch them up if she does.”

Great.

With a shout, Tilly swung her arm up and back.

I winced, expecting Jade to break out some jujitsu moves to pull a grab and dash.

Walker leaned forward like a stallion about to break down a stall to get to its mare.

Jade jumped up, caught the flowers, and spun with a victorious smile aimed at Walker.

No one was harmed during the bouquet toss, and Jade was the indisputable winner.

She strolled up with a loose-hipped gait, clutching the flowers to her chest, and Walker took her in his arms.

“Feel better,
mahasani
?” he asked.

“
Uh huh
.” She linked her hands behind his neck.

“So does this mean you’ll marry me now, stubborn wench?”

“Yes, you pillock!” Jade rained kisses on his face along with the laughing verbal abuse.

“Pillock?” He pulled back. “That’s a new one.”

“Dolt, knob-head, daft idiot.” She held him by two hands clasped to his shoulders, beaming. “I love you.”

“So I call you
the other half of my soul
, and you basically tell me I’m a wanker? How does that work?” He scowled.

She laughed, coiling around him with a lingering kiss. “Because I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Works for me.” He dipped her over his arm, taking charge of the kiss.

So that was that.

Tilly came over to congratulate Walker and Jade, and claim me. “I believe it’s time for our dance.

And I was so happy to be claimed by her.

Music began. Talking from our gathered friends stalled and stopped when I escorted Tilly with an arm around her waist to the center of the ringed group.

“Hello, Mrs. Chase.” I circled her in my arms.

“Hello, husband.” She glided against me.

The joy was back, both a pounding pleasure and peaceful essence. We danced with the rhythm of the music, intent only on one another. Heat gathered between us, building, escalating, but now we had time.

I had Tilly.

My embrace tightened.

The world outside disappeared.

She was elegant and graceful, and her face curved against my neck and shoulder.

“You once said smooth talking wouldn’t get me anywhere, what about smooth moves?” I swirled her into a lingering dip, placing a longing kiss on her arched throat.

Her gurgling laughter tinkled like fresh rainwater when I guided her back to me.

Her hands stretched up beneath my jacket, learning muscle and warm flesh, and the heat of two bodies too full of love.

“
Ah
already know you’ve got smooth moves.”

“Want me to demonstrate some more?”

“Please do.”

When the song ended, we stood before those gathered, melded from thighs to hips to chests, creasing a gown and a suit we were both waiting to remove so we could touch skin to skin, flesh to flesh, hard to soft.

Our kiss was hungry, promising, palpitating between us.

Applause drew us apart.

Tilly blushed.

I bowed to her.

We shared more dances, each one more enticing than the last. Night had fully curtained the shoreline. Bright torches lit the edge of the water, and candles shimmered inside hurricane lanterns.

Half an hour later, when one of Tilly’s friends announced it was time for the garter toss I’d been waiting for all night long, I almost went down on one knee in thanks.

Someone produced a chair.

I guided Tilly to it.

Her hands lit on my shoulders.

Mine cruised under the skirt of her gown.

Tilly’s breath came deeper. She licked her lips softly.

My cock hardened in a desperate curve as I felt her silky skin all the way to her thighs. I leaned forward, kissing her.

Folds of creamy material covered me from wrists to elbows, and no one could see my wandering hands when I went higher than strictly necessary.

Warmth beckoned. And wetness. Just one finger, against the outside of her panties, straight up the center.

I blew a hot breath out against her lips, and my eyes drifted down. I wanted to see what I touched.

“Justice, darlin’, you know my dad’s watching.”

She wasn’t unaffected. Moisture gathered on my finger.

“Don’t care. He gave me his approval. And I’ve been waiting for two days to touch you. He’s lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already and carried you out of here.”

She caressed the side of my face and brushed a knuckle over my lips.

I stroked her one more time, watching her eyes droop, before sliding the frilly garter from her thigh.

Brandishing it in one hand, I drew it across my nose—her scent invading my mind—then slingshot it behind me.

Storm surfaced from the crowd just in time to catch it before it splatted him in the face.

He held the lace thing between his fingers . . . and smiled wolfishly . . . and tucked it into his pocket.

Opening Tilly’s knees wider, I moved closer between them. “Please, babe. Let’s get out of here. I need you. Needed you all day. Want to be alone.”

Our escape was clean, and I only half heard the raucous comments from my T-Zone contingent about newlywed sex.

Tilly and I walked along the beach, holding hands. Impatience driven back, like the tideline. Moments too important to waste.

Tilly waiting with a small smile while I took off my shoes and socks.

We waded into the surf, a white foamy froth tickling our ankles.

Tilly tipped up a sand dollar with her toe and bent to pick it up.

“A lucky omen.” She held the perfect circle to me.

“Is it?” I inspected her face instead of the seashell.

Her laugh floated out to sea. “’Course it is!”

She twirled, arms open wide, splashing her gown and my pants, and laughing, laughing.

Tilly reclaiming my hand.

The moonlight shivering over her . . .

“Swim with me in the morning,” I asked.

Her head dipped. “Of course I will.”

I picked her up in my arms when we came adjacent to the whitewashed house we’d rented. She shimmied closer, kissing my neck. Trudging across the deep sand still warm from the day, I carried my wife toward our new beginning.

The door opened. I shut it with a clip of my foot. I bounded up the stairs, and again her laugh trilled out.

Inside the bedroom I’d had our luggage relocated to, I slid her down the front of my body.

There were more magnolias in the room, arranged in vases. And candles, already lit.

But the softest glow came from Tilly. Her fingers moved to my tie, and I craned my chin up so she could tackle it.

Her fingertips brushed the skin of my jaw, and I shuddered.

My fingers curled around her hips, and she smiled.

“I can’t wait to get out of this thing.” I grunted, shifting my shoulders inside the jacket and dropping my shoes.

She whipped the tie free then sauntered around me in a circle. “I don’t know. I’m quite partial to the tux.”

“You are,
huh
?” I bantered back, but with her suggestive look and sultry tone my body reacted instantly.

“It accentuates your physique.” Her hands skimmed across the neat lines of the jacket.

“Does it?” I dropped my head back, groaning.

“Broad shoulders, big arms, narrow hips, and magnificent ass.”

I lifted my head, and her eyes perused me. Her fingers trailed across every described part.

“Long thighs and a big hard cock.” She caressed the back of her hand over my engorged cock.

Harsh swallow. Low rumbling voice. “Maybe I can wear a suit occasionally. For you.”

“I do hope so.” Kissing my chin with a lick of her tongue, Tilly removed my jacket, folded it over a chair, and returned to divest me of the shirt.

My groin kicked forward, and I was fully hard when she tugged out the wrinkled shirttails from my heated skin. She opened buttons and smoothed the shirt over my shoulders. She kissed my chest and rubbed her face against it, freeing cufflinks, leaving me half naked and totally worked up.

“My turn.”

“There’s just the dress and panties.” She managed to look demure and scandalously sexy at the same time.

My pulse thrummed inside every part of me.

It took some time to locate the hidden hooks along her side, so I enjoyed the exploration of her dips and hollows. Her curves barely veiled by the gown were so close to the surface I sucked on her nipples and grasped her hips and dipped my knees to breath against her belly.

My fingers traced up her legs and around her ass, cupping, massaging. Lifting up to my full height while she swayed like a green willow, I began on the hooks.

“Your hands are shaking,” she whispered.

“So is your voice.” I blew out a breath shortened by a raw laugh. “It’s not everyday I get to undress my wife on our marriage day.”

“No, just me.”

“Just you.” I peeled her from the dress, a blossom opening to my hands that captured and teased and sank between her legs. “Always, just you.”

She held onto my arms, leaning back and luxuriating in my stroking fingers.

Tilly shivered, once, and moaned, many times, while I stirred her to a feverish pitch. Leaving her on the edge, I gentled her with kisses on her breasts, her belly, below and above. I removed the flower from her hair, placing it with the sand dollar on the table beside the big white-netted bed.

Her hair had been braided and twisted and coiled. I stood behind Tilly, releasing every pin, scenting her with my lips at the nape of her neck, my nose beneath her ear.

“Are you seducing your wife, Justice?”

“I am.”

Her glorious hair drifted down, a soft sun-hued curtain on the cusp of daybreak.

I buried my nose in the waves, breathing hard, running my arms around her naked body.

“I want you so much, Tilly.”

Turning, her hands roamed to my pants.

Her lips tilted to mine. “Take me.”

She undressed me just as slowly, carefully, rubbing her face against my cock when she grasped my pants and briefs and tugged them away.

She sucked me deep into her mouth. Once.

Once was too much.

Breathing growing heavy.

Eyes becoming drowsy, aroused.

I carried her to the bed and it dipped beneath us.

The candles flickered.

A breeze moved through the half-opened window into the room.

Surf pounded outside.

My love for Tilly pounded inside my chest.

Ready and open and greedy—both of us—I rose above, dipped my hips. She lifted her thighs, angled her body.

The kiss when I entered her was as slippery as her wanting flesh that opened for me. I held her hands. She whispered into my ear.

The
I love yous
strained, said with an arch of her body, a deep arc of mine. A demand, as I thrust. An acceptance when she curved to me.

My beat. Her rhythm.

My hardness. Her soft velvety clutch.

Belonging to someone after so long.

Owning, in heart and body and soul.

My groan spilled against her lips.

The soft catch of her teeth over my mouth.

Lust and need gained speed.

Pillows spilled off the bed.

Her heels slammed down on my ass.

I carried her forward with each lunge.

She tracked a hand down my back.

I held her face in my palm.

We rolled, accelerating.

We came, exalting.

That glorious moment, transcendent—the only instant when voices sharpened and need shredded all but the thickest, longest lasting, most important core of feeling.