Phoenix Broken (28 page)

“You bet your sweet ass.” Mags laughed. "First time she met me, her radar went off. The 4th of July picnic, remember?"

He remembered. That'd been a good year.

One of the best. They hadn't known it yet, but Fan had been pregnant at that picnic. Scott had just taken his first job for Phoenix, having decided not to re-up with the Marines after his second contract was complete. He'd kind of wanted to stay, but he just couldn't do that to Fannie anymore. She hadn't asked—wouldn't ever have asked—but she hadn't needed to.

He'd opted out. That was the weekend after he'd gotten his papers.

It had been a beautiful day. Perfect, in fact. Evanston beach, Lake Michigan blue and serene, the sun warm on his face. He could almost smell Fannie's hair tickling his face as they leaned back on a blanket, watching the water sparkle together…

"Watching you miss her, it's…scary, you know. And beautiful. All at the same time." He blinked to see Mags looking at him, her face twisted into an expression between awe and pain.

"Love like that usually is, Mags." He sighed heavily, staring out at the grounds.  "So what did Fan say? She put the fear of god into you?" His lips twitched a little, thinking of that. Fannie had never been clingy or insecure, far from it. She also had no fucking problem staking out her territory.
No problem at all.

Mags laughed softly. "Well, you know how I was back then; all mouth, no filter?"

"Nah, can't." He donned his poker face. "You've changed so much, it's all foggy."

"C'mon, I've toned down. A bit." When he just looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows, she rolled her eyes and continued.

"Fan cornered me in the ladies' room. I was putting on lipstick, looking in the mirror. Thinking about you." She snickered when Scott groaned. "It was really very innocent, you know. I may have been a firecracker, but I was no home wrecker. I think if you'd ever noticed me—
really
noticed me as a woman—it would've scared the shit out of me. It was more the
idea
of you, and the way you looked at your wife."

Mags stared off into space, then shook herself. "I looked up and saw her in the mirror. Just standing there, with this little smile on her face. Scared the shit outa me.

"'
Don't think we've met
,
but I'm Fannie and that's my husband you're drooling over.'
I think I wet myself a little," Mags laughed ruefully. "I thought I was so smooth, that no one had a clue what
I
was thinking."

Scott looked at her, uncomfortable, but fascinated as hell. Fan had never said a word to him about any of this.

"I think she felt sorry for me, you know." Mags' voice had gone quiet. "Jules probably told her some of my history. She had an idea how I felt about men."

Scott looked past the beautiful, poised woman in front of him, seeing the faded image of that damaged wild teenager. She'd had a certain self-possession, even then, but he knew she'd been scarred from a world that had treated her like scum.

Mags had gone from foster home to foster home as a child, and finally to the streets a few years before Jules had found her. Scott also had an idea of the kind of men she'd known up until then.

That thought sickened him still.

"
'I know you ain't had nothing real in your life, girl.'
She said to me.
'But you will,
someday.
Realer than real.
In the meantime, you keep your eyes off my man.'
" Mags gave Scott a sidelong look. "Then she told me to use my powers on you."

"What?"

"Yeah. She said I needed to know what a real man was
supposed
to be like."

"And you did that?"

She looked at him without a flicker of guilt in those cobalt eyes. "I did. Looking into your mind…your heart… It kind of changed my fucking life, Scott."

He didn't know what to say. What the hell
could
he say to that? Something inside of him squeezed tight.

Am I even that man anymore?

No.

He wasn't. And Scott knew he couldn't go back. He felt the need to make something clear, to Mags and maybe to himself. “This between Des and I, it's just sex, Mags. It's nothing like what Fan and I had. And you're right, I can't deal with it, because of Fannie, yeah. And because of everything Des is. I've been one hell of a prick, and believe me, I know it. But… that's
all
there is between me and her. There's never going to be anything else."

Mags raised her head. Her face was pale and her eyes sad. “Okay. Sure. You go with that.” She started to get up, but he put a hand out.

“Stop. About the Psych Out, how many times has she done it? And who the hell has been giving it to her?”

Mags looked away, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “I'm not sure how many times. At least three, she's been trying to get used to it. And she isn’t getting it from here, Scott. I think she got it from… Centaries.”

“What. The.
Fuck?
Calimente wouldn't sell her that shit." Surely not.
But if not him, then who?

Unable to put his hands on the demon, his anger lashed out again.
"
How could you let her do that crap to herself, Mags? What if it permanently damages her? How could you know…
and not stop it?"

Her fingers started to shake as she smoothed the perfectly smooth fabric of her dress again and again, not looking at him. “It isn’t like she’s taking meth or coke, for god’s sake. She’s making a conscious choice to opt out of her powers. And it’s not technically illegal. Both shades and
paras
can get a script for it, it just takes ages.  Do you think being an empath means I can interfere in people’s choices—no matter how awful they might be?”

“Maybe sometimes you should. Maybe sometimes you have to.”

Her cobalt blue eyes lifted to harden on his. “You really want to go there, Davidson? What do you think I see in your fucking head every time you hit the gym, every time you think about going after Cross….you want me going to Jules with
that
crap, huh?”

Scott’s teeth ground together as their gazes locked. “Point taken."

“I hope so. Now, seeing as I've had far more than my quota of angst for one day, I’d like to get the hell out of here. We done?”

He nodded and moved aside for her. Mags stopped, turning her head, chewing on her lower lip. “Davidson, as long as we're sharing ...part of that shit that's in your head? That shit we both know I've seen …? You’re
wrong.”

His spine locked, turning to ice. "What shit would that be?"

Her hand touched his forearm hesitantly, her slender fingers cool. “You know what I'm talking about. It isn’t hopeless, Scott.
You’re
not hopeless. People can be broken, but they can also heal. The man you were…he's not gone. Not like you think. You've just forgotten how to be him."

His chest hurt. "Mags. Stop."
Please.

"No." Those fingers tightened. "One more thing. She'd want healing for you, Scott. Fannie would want you to move on.”

The pain that streaked through him was blinding; white-hot, stealing all color and sound. He shook off Mags' fingers gently.

She was wrong, there was no hope.

Not for him.

“Doesn't really matter what she'd want, Mags. Fan's dead. And sometimes broken isn’t meant to be fixed.”

There was a long sigh. Then the sound of the telepath's heels echoing sharply as she walked away, leaving Scott to face a wall of empty windows. Fighting the urge to smash each and every one.

He didn't go home. The kids were at their grandparent's for the weekend. With nowhere he had to be, Scott got a hunch and he followed it.

He hadn't expected to be right. Scott eyed the black Lamborghini parked against the curb of Mags' place with his lip curled. It looked like a sleek jungle cat ready to pounce as he walked by. He resisted the urge to snarl at it.

Desdemona didn’t ask him what he was doing here when she answered his knock. She just stepped aside and held the door open.

"Where's Calimente?" He walked inside, but it was quiet. They were alone.

"He's not here." Des answered the obvious anyway. "He had …things. One of his people picked him up. Guido has plenty of security at his place. You don't need to worry about me, Johnny." Her hair was pulled over one shoulder; all loose, casual waves. She looked down and idly twirled a few strands around her finger before shutting the door. Her crazy-sexy lips were pursed, soft, pink and delectable. The light coming through the lattice window made her hair glow like spun gold. She'd changed into loose pajama pants in a blue-striped plaid and a plain white tank, no bra. He could clearly see the outline of her nipples through the thin ribbed cotton.
Focus.

"So you meant it about leaving?" He glanced at the small pile of bags by the door.

"It seems best, all things considered."

He closed his eyes for a second, his jaw tightening before he opened them to glare at her. “Goddamn you, Des. Why'd you do it?”

“Do what?” 

“Take fucking Psych Out, that’s what.”

She let out a breath, like a balloon deflating. “Who told you?"

He lifted his eyebrows. She sighed.

“Okay. What exactly did Mags have to say?”

"Enough."

"Does it really matter why?" Her eyes were soft and grey, but they cut him.

"It does if it was for
me."

"It wasn't for you, Johnny." She looked away. "It was for
me.
I wanted to know this was honest," she waved a hand between them, "that it was real. Not something I forced just because I want you so much.”

His hands clenched so tightly they hurt at the simple honesty in her words. “You aren’t to take that shit anymore.
Not ever.
Especially not for me. I didn’t ask you to stop being yourself.”

“Yeah, you kind of
did.”

Scott scrubbed the top of his head in agitation. “
Fuck,
Des! Do you think I like how I act around you? But you…you just seem to push every button I’ve got without even trying.”

“Because you want me, and you don’t want to want me.”

Scott told himself she wasn’t trying to be provocative. That it was her nature to be alluring in everything she did. She couldn’t help the way her words affected him, or the truth behind them.

There was that tightening low down in his gut he got whenever they were alone together. His body ached with the effort of holding himself in check. Of standing still and not moving.

Of not rushing her, slamming her up against the door and doing everything he'd been dreaming of doing to her for the past few weeks. The tastes he'd had were nowhere near enough.

Scott wanted her to stay.

He didn't want to go back to that numbing darkness full of rage and agony. It hurt like hell being around her, but…

He
needed
her to stay.

Scott opened his eyes to see hers go wide at his expression. "Are you okay, Johnny?"

Her feet were bare, her toenails a sky blue color. She rubbed the inside of her arch against one leg nervously as she studied him. There was apprehension, but no real fear in her gaze. Maybe there should be, because Scott could feel the muscles of his arms, shoulders and chest straining as he held himself in check. He must look half-crazed.

Hell, he
was
half-crazed. Trying to control himself was driving him insane.

Maybe he should just stop trying. Just like that, the tension drained from his body, like a stopper being pulled. Scott shuddered hard. There was just one question left to ask, one thing to be sure of first. "Did you mean what you said at the gym—are you done wanting me, Desdemona?"

Her laugh was a broken thing. "Oh, don't I wish? I'm afraid I'll never be done wanting you."

Des sucked in a breath as he raised his eyes to hers. Her fingers slipped to her mouth. She knew before he could say a word. One look in his eyes and she fucking knew.

Goosebumps formed on her bare arms. Her lips parted.

Scott lunged, lifting her off the floor, his momentum carrying them into the far wall. Something crashed to the floor but neither of them could pull their eyes from the other.

“What do
you
want?” Her breath was coming short and fast, but her meaning was clear. She needed him to say it.

Scott buried one hand in the pile of golden brown hair at her nape. He tightened his grip, winding the silky mass around his fist, pulling her head back as he lowered his mouth to her throat. Inhaling deeply as he felt her shivering.

“You.
I want you.
I want to fuck you until you can’t breathe, Desdemona. I want to bend you over every damn surface I see. I want you on your knees again, with my cock in your mouth…” He shuddered, lifting his free hand to rub his thumb over her racing pulse. “I want all that and
more.”

“Then take it.” Her voice strove for that calm, musical island smoothness that drove him nuts, but her cheeks had flushed. She was shaking.

Oh yes, he fucking wanted
this.
Craved it.

It was time to rattle her, to shake that composure to bits and make her as crazed as she made him.

Mags had said that Des was falling apart, but he couldn’t see it. He only saw the poised young woman who turned him into an animal inside.

“I intend to.” He yanked her to her toes, his mouth slamming down on hers. He kissed her like a man starving. Starving for her, starving for sex, starving for something …anything that could make him feel alive again. Something he'd found in her.

He couldn’t stop. Her knees buckled and Scott let her pull him down, their bodies sliding to the floor, mouths fused together.

They fell slow, him tangled up in her legs.

Her hands were trapped against his chest as his weight pinned her to the floor. The feel of him was the only thing grounding Des as everything inside her melted like wax placed too near a scorching flame. She wrapped her fingers in his shirt and held on for dear life. He wasn't giving her gentle or slow, his mouth was a hot punishment on hers. Scott didn’t tease, he demanded that she give in and open to him. And Des did.

Of course she did.

She whimpered into the brutal kiss and his fingers tightened in her hair. Pulling her head back as his lips left hers to trail over her throat. Sucking little nips that burned her skin and made her pant his name.

“Scott,
please.”

Suddenly his mouth was gone from her skin and Des was looking directly into his eyes. That moss green had darkened to almost black as he loomed over her, his voice as sharp as razor.
“What
did you say?”

She blinked up at him in confusion, heart pounding, mind in a hazy fog. “I said…I said…please.
Please, Scott.”

He groaned, reaching a hand back to rip his shirt over his head. “You’ve never called me by my name before. Not once.”

“Haven’t I?” Her voice was breathless. Naked from the waist up, Scott was an oxygen-depleting sight. Gorgeous, rippling ridges in dark gold, the feathering of hair over his deep chest narrowing to a fine line before darting under his jeans. She ran her hands over him slowly, relishing the feel of those corded muscles drawing tight. He felt so good, all that hard satiny flesh flexing under her fingertips.

“You know you haven’t. I’ve been Johnny to you ever since that night in the club.” He sat up, his hips pinning her down, one thigh on either side of her waist. He looked like a stranger in the shadowy half-darkness of late afternoon, his tousled blond hair backlit by a stray sunbeam, giving him a fractured halo.

His grip on her waist was almost painfully tight. As if Scott were afraid that if he didn't hold on, she’d run away. His next words made it clear he thought she should.

“Des…I’m not going to be a gentle lover, not this time. There is too much rage inside me and it’s all mixed up with wanting you. I'm barely holding on. If you want me to stop, you gotta tell me now.”

“You’re worried about being too rough?" She gave a shaky laugh. "I can handle it.”

Scott hesitated for the barest second, his face taut. “Hurting a woman physically is not in me, angel, I promise you that. I just can't…I
won't
promise you…”

Des knew exactly what he was trying to say. Sex was all he was offering her. All he thought himself capable of. Her stomach tightened, but Des reached up to cover his lips with a finger. “There's only one thing I need you to promise me, Scott."

A hint of wariness came into his eyes. It hurt, but Des was far too gone to worry about a little more pain. “What?”

“Don’t stop until we've both had enough.”

His laugh was so low it was almost a growl. “Then I hope you're up for a very long night, angel.”

His hands came down, molding themselves to her body, as if he wanted to map every curve. Strong and rough, but anything but careless. Sliding over her ribs, cupping her breasts through her tank.

The heat of his cock ground between her legs with every movement, branding her through their clothes. When he ran his thumbs over her nipples, it was like he'd activated a live wire stretched between them and her core, making her twist and give a ragged cry as pleasure sparked.

Scott cursed. "You can't make sounds like that and expect me not to lose it." He tore the tank from her in one swipe, tossing it over his shoulder.

Her flesh pebbled in the rush of air. Large and dusky, her nipples hardened into fat points. He stared at them, then at her, watching her face as he ran his palm over one aching tip. The burst of sensation had her closing her eyes, her ass coming off the floor, trying not to scream.

If Scott could make her feel like this with one touch, how would she ever survive him inside her?

He shifted, his cock dragging over her thigh before he settled his hips between her knees.

"Open your eyes, Des." With a pounding heart, she did. His lips were inches from one tightly peaked nipple. She could feel his breath, warm and soft against the sensitive skin.

Her lips parted on a whine. "
Scott."

His mouth surrounded the sensitive point, sucking hot and wet as she buckled.

Her hand cupped the back of his head, tearing at his short, silky hair as his teeth grazed her flesh, sending bolts of ecstasy like lightning through her body. First one breast and then the other, before he moved down her ribs to her quivering belly. His fingers wrapped around the waist of her yoga pants, tearing both them and her panties down her legs. He sat back on his heels between her spread thighs. Scott tossed the clothes aside as he stared down at her. His gaze made her tighten inside with want.

"Fuck.
This is how I've wanted you since that first night," he said, thumbing open his jeans, standing up to shove them down his thighs. His beautiful cock was curved in thick arc, its tip almost touching that line of dark gold hair on his stomach. Scott kicked the jeans off and dropped back to the floor, covering her completely with his body. Skin to skin at last.

Des rubbed herself against him, craving the delicious warmth he gave off with a hunger that frightened her, but that she couldn't deny.

Scott ran a hand down her side and over her hip before slipping it between her legs. "Just like this, Des. Hot and bare, under me. Not a thing between us but skin and heat."

His grip tightened, one finger slipping between her folds as Des writhed. She was consumed by her need for this man. Unable to do anything but beg him for more. Scott pushed a finger inside of her, sliding it deep. Those green eyes intent, never leaving her face. He added another finger, stretching her, twisting his hand so that his thumb grazed her clit.

Des bowed into his touch, her muscles contracting as her back arched. It was good, but it wasn't enough.

"More," she breathed. She ran her hand over his shoulders, sinking her nails into his skin. "Fuck me, Scott."

God.

He wanted this woman. Her words had his hands shaking, even as he pulled his fingers from inside her dripping heat. His eyes couldn’t get enough of her. She was panting, the column of her throat working as he wrapped his hand, wet with her juices, around his cock. Her full, upthrust breasts with those gorgeous nipples trembling through the dust motes that sparkled in the dying sunlight. Scott was going to explode if he didn't get inside her right
now.

But first, he needed to hear her say it. One more time.