Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (12 page)

She raised her head and turned to him, quirking a brow. He grinned. “
Cara
, one thing my mother hates is drama. I imagine the fur would be flying if you and Melissa ever shared the same space again.”

A slow smile warmed her face. “She does bring out my claws, doesn’t she?”

“Thank you for standing up to her. It thrilled me to see you defending yourself
and
me when I found you two in here last night.”

Angelina stretched out on Marc lengthwise and kissed him before rising and resting on her forearm. She stared directly into his eyes. “No one messes with my man and gets away with it.”

Her fingertip traced an abstract path through the hair on his chest. She seemed lost in thought before asking, “Marc, what were you running from when you went downstairs last night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I came back, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but you distracted me so that I didn’t remember to ask why you’d left in the first place.”

He reached out to tweak her nipple, and she swatted his hand.

“Quit changing the subject. You always do that—substitute sex for having a conversation.”

Because I’d rather have sex than talk about it,
cara.

“What had we been talking about when I left?”

“You and Melissa.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else that needs to be said.” Marc rolled over and got up. “We should get packed. We slept late.”

“I’m already packed.”

The reminder that she’d nearly left him last night slammed home. Why couldn’t he just tell her what had happened and be done with it? By making such a big deal about it, he would only blow things out of proportion. Sometimes just stating the truth was the best thing to do.

Why couldn’t he tell her?

Shame. He had never been more ashamed of anything in his life.

“Angelina, all that happened before there was an ‘us.’ Suffice it to say there were those two other times, but neither of us needs to give a blow-by-blow about past relationships.”

Angelina got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom without a word.

Marc ran his fingers through his hair.
Shit
, he’d handled that all wrong. The drive back to Denver was going to be a long one.

Why was hearing the details so important to her? What was he missing?

Chapter Six

“W
hat the fuck happened while I was in South Dakota?”

A week later, Marc looked over at Adam who had dragged him out of the living room where Damián and Marisol were watching a princess something-or-other movie and into Marc’s den. He could hear the girls in the kitchen working on dinner and laughing. Well, Karla and Savi were laughing. He didn’t hear much laughter from Angelina. She’d been subdued since they had returned from Aspen.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean besides the fact I came home to find out I’m the grandfather of an eight-year-old.” The man had a sappy grin on his face. Apparently becoming a father and a grandfather the same year met with Top’s approval. But he wasn’t as pleased with Marc. “The tension between you and Angelina is thick enough to cut with a Bowie. You getting ready to run again?”

Marc walked over to the bar to pour another glass of wine. Adam’s bottle of water was still half full. “Again?”

“Doc, remember you’ve told me about your little history of running when a woman gets too close,
if
you let one close at all, which is pretty damned rare for you. Closest one I’ve seen before Angelina was Pamela more than a year ago.”

“That was different. She was looking for something I couldn’t give her.” When Pamela had said she’d wanted a Total Power Exchange as a Master/slave, he’d definitely run—run like hell.

“You and Angelina are good for each other, but tonight there’s been a wedge the size of Mount Evans between you. You barely even make eye contact. What the fuck happened since my wedding?”

Marc took a gulp of wine. “Nothing. We’ve just got a lot hitting us right now. She still hasn’t been able to find a job. Family stuff. And this business of someone trying to hurt Savi and Marisol has us both concerned.”

“Aren’t we all? We’ve got Damián’s apartment under surveillance twenty-four/seven.”

Thankfully Marc had managed to divert Adam’s attention from his and Angelina’s problems. Marc didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his own life with Adam.

Angelina definitely wasn’t going to let him ignore the situation the way he wanted to, though. She kept trying to get him to talk about what had happened New Year’s weekend, and Marc had managed to distract her with a play scene or sex most of those times, but last night she’d walked out of the bedroom and told him she’d be back when he decided to talk. She hadn’t said a whole lot to him all day. Big surprise. But this dinner had been planned for days, and he couldn’t very well tell his friends not to come over.

“Don’t fuck it up. You need that girl, whether you realize it yet or not. I nearly lost Karla because my head was too far up my ass. I don’t want to watch you screw the—”

“Dinner is served!” They turned to find Angelina standing in the doorway, glancing from Adam to Marc, resting her gaze on him a moment longer and giving him a tentative smile.

Walking over to her, Marc bent to give her a peck on the cheek.
“Grazie, amore.”
He placed an arm around her shoulders, feeling grounded with her soft body next to his, and led the way to the dining room where a feast had been spread out on the table. Angelina made this monstrous house a home.

Adam was right, as usual. Marc had better not screw this up. He just didn’t have a clue what the fuck his problem was lately. Why was he lashing out at Angelina? She wasn’t the reason for him feeling …unsettled.

An hour later, Marc watched as Adam placed his hand around the back of Karla’s neck and fingered the filigreed necklace she’d been wearing since the couple had returned from their honeymoon. Clearly she’d been collared. Karla looked at Adam, and the heat arcing between them was palpable.

Marc wanted to have Angelina look at him like that again.

Angelina served Marisol a homemade cannoli covered with powdered sugar. Seated beside Marisol, Savi focused her attention on her daughter. He’d noticed throughout the dinner that Savi seemed intimidated by Adam and rarely made eye contact with him. The man was daunting until you realized he was more bark than bite—well, mostly. Savi really didn’t interact much with Damián, either. Must be hard to form a family after being apart since their child’s conception.

The thought that he might have other parents out in the world somewhere made him wonder what they were like. Why they hadn’t been able to—or
wanted
to—keep and raise him.

Stop thinking that way.
I am not adopted.

People comparing them often remarked that Marc had his mother’s forehead and chin. Not as conclusive as DNA but close enough for him. And no one could deny that he and Gino were brothers or that Sandro and Carmella bore a striking resemblance to him.

Marc’s gaze locked with Angelina’s for a moment, and she gave him a smile that warmed a place around his heart that had grown cold again recently. Perhaps tonight they could spend some time in the playroom before they went to bed. He might let her think he planned an impact session, but he was more in the mood to hear her giggle. Definitely some sensation play was in order for his ticklish girl. He loved planning scenes for her as he continued with her training. At least when they were playing, they didn’t have to deal with anything he’d rather avoid.

Karla rested her head on Adam’s shoulder and smiled sleepily. Adam kissed the top of her head, placed his napkin on the table, and announced as he stood to pull Karla’s chair out, “We’re heading home. Still haven’t caught up on our sleep from the honeymoon trip.”

Somehow Marc doubted either had sleep on their minds, but his words sent everyone into a flurry of clearing the table, followed by cleaning up the kitchen. Soon, the house was quiet again. Marc walked over to Angelina as she closed the dishwasher, and he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

“Another fabulous meal. Thank you for all your hard work.”

She turned and looked up at him, smiling. “You know I love to cook. If I can’t do it for strangers in a restaurant, then I’ll gladly invite our friends over every night and cook for them.”

“Don’t make that offer. We’ll never have any time to ourselves.”

She grew serious. “Marc, about last night…”

“Shhh.” Marc tilted her chin up and bent to capture her lips in a tame kiss, not wanting to go too far until he could get her up into the playroom. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk.

The kiss quickly deepened, and his tongue slipped between her lips to take possession as he pressed her backside against the island counter, trapping her with his hips. His hand grazed her shoulder, and he felt the flesh rise as he skimmed his fingers down her bare arm until he cupped her breast. He twisted her nipple through her blouse, and she hissed drawing breath from his mouth to hers. His cock stirred.

Weeks ago, as a reminder of something he’d said to her when they’d met at daVinci’s bar in her hometown, he’d attached fuzzy handcuffs to a chain and placed them inside the drawer next to the stove. He slid the drawer open and retrieved them for the first time. Her body tensed at the sound of the chain. Marc smiled knowing she couldn’t see him as he fastened one of the cuffs around her wrist. He retreated a bit, wiping the smile off his face when he stared down at her.

Her pupils dilated with excitement. “I thought the chain and cuff were for when you wanted to force me to slave over this stove preparing the dishes Nonna taught me to cook.”

He grinned. “Sometimes slaving is more about eating than cooking.”

“I couldn’t touch another bite.” She scowled at him. “How can you be hungry after all the food I put on the table tonight?”

“I haven’t had my dessert yet.”

“I distinctly remember watching you devour two cannoli.”

Marc’s hand roamed over her abdomen to the thigh-high skirt, and he tugged up the hem as his fingers pushed the triangle of the thong aside and delved into the cleft hiding her bare, wet pussy. She gasped as he stroked her clit and closed her eyes.

“With you,
amore,
I will never be satisfied. Hold onto me.”

She placed her hands on the tops of his shoulders, and he took the waistband of her thong down and shimmied it over her hips, thighs, and calves, letting it pool at her feet before wrapping his hands around her waist. In a quick movement, he lifted her onto the granite countertop. The chain clanked but didn’t stretch beyond its limits.

“Oh! I’m—”

She stopped before uttering the words he’d conditioned her to refrain from saying, whether about being too heavy or some other negative remark. Instead, she smiled. “I’m hungry, too, Marc, but we need to talk first. About last night—”

“No more talk. Lie back, and spread your legs.”

Her gaze grew steely for a moment and then drifted to his chest. She ignored his command as she nibbled on her plump lower lip.

“Marc, you keep diverting my attention from talking about—”

He leaned forward and took her earlobe between his teeth, biting hard enough to distract her once more. The hiss in her breath told him he wouldn’t have any trouble getting her to where he wanted her tonight. The last place that would be was to rehash what had happened in Aspen or talk about what he should do about it.

He whispered in her ear, “I said lie back. Spread your legs. Now.”

She groaned in frustration, but when she began to unbutton her blouse, he grew harder.

He waited until the last button had been undone and she started to remove it. “Leave the blouse. Lie back. Don’t make me tell you again.”

The catch in her throat nearly made him come undone. “Marc, you know I want my after-dessert, too. Just promise me we’ll talk later about—”

Marc growled. Her fingers stilled before she complied without further argument and leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. Because the kitchen island had a serving bar for guests on the back side, her shoulder blades rested against the raised counter behind her. He couldn’t leave her pressed against the granite too long. Without hesitation, he took his thumbs and opened the outer lips of her pussy, staring for a moment at her tempting clit awaiting his teeth and tongue.