Black Heart (26 page)

fingers. Now she was sore, spent and pretty sure that she’d used up a lifetime of orgasms

with him tonight. She closed her eyes and sighed contently.

A moment later she tensed when she felt him curl up behind her. He chuckled softly in

her ear. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you a rest. It’s just after ten now so in about oh,…three

hours I’ll wake you up again.”

She whimpered.

Another chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you get some sleep. We have to be at work in the

morning.”

"You're not supposed to go to work," she mumbled. "You have to go to a meeting."

He sighed heavily near her ear. "I'd rather go to work."

"Tristan, don't you think that you should take some time off? Your shoulder really should

get looked at," she said around a yawn as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he sighed. "How about this? If it hurts tomorrow I'll

go home early and use up my vacation time."

Knowing that was probably the best she would get from him, she nodded her agreement.

With that settled she closed her eyes, ready for some much needed sleep.

She’d never been happier to have to go to work in her life. She was so tired. There was

no doubt in her mind that if they didn’t have work in the morning that he wouldn’t let her

rest. She felt his arm snake around her waist and snuggled back against his chest, closing

her eyes with a pleased smile.

When his hand began to wander down her stomach, she made a grab for it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just repositioning my hand for comfort,” he said innocently.

Grudgingly, she released his hand and closed her eyes. A few seconds later her eyes flew

open as a loud gasp escaped her lips. He ran his finger over her clit, teasing it again and

again. Her damn traitorous body began to respond even as her brain sent out urgent

messages that it was time to sleep.

Oh, God…..he was going to kill her with sex.

He kissed her neck and she stupidly gave him access. He kissed and licked her neck just

the way that he knew she liked it. Damn him. She felt herself becoming wet again as his

finger glided through her slit and slid inside of her. She whimpered when he pulled his

finger away from her, but then moaned loudly as he slid into her from behind.

"After this I'll let you get some sleep." She noticed that he didn't say, "I promise”, but at

the moment she really was in no position to argue. It felt too good to complain.

-
-
-

Marty closed her eyes, wincing as the floorboards beneath the carpet creaked softly.

Slowly, she looked over her shoulder and almost sighed with relief when she spotted Tristan

lying undisturbed and most importantly, still asleep on his bed. Her eyes shot to the alarm

clock. It was barely one o'clock in the morning. After the marathon of love making, not to

mention what he went through today, he should be out cold until morning.

She should be sleeping, too, but she could no longer ignore the call of nature. Carefully,

she padded across the bedroom carpet to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She

paused for another moment before locking the door. Marty had no doubt that he could

burst through the door if he wanted to, but it made her feel safer this way.

After relieving herself, washing her face, and cringing at the sight of her hair she opened

the door and whimpered.

"Morning, baby," Tristan drawled, giving her a sexy lopsided smile.

Another whimper may have escaped her as her gaze dropped down his body only to

shoot back up in alarm. He couldn't be.....

Oh, but he was. She gasped as he reached out and pulled her to him. The hard erection

she’d glimpsed only a few seconds ago jerked against her stomach.

"I was just using the bathroom. I-I'd like some sleep now," she mumbled pathetically.

He chuckled softly against the crook of her neck. "I'll get you back in bed. Don't worry

about it," he said as he lifted her up and once again her legs wrapped around him. This time

he pressed her against the wall and entered her hard with one thrust, earning a whimper or a

moan from her. She really wasn't sure which.

-
-
-

"
Shit
," Marty whispered harshly as she overfilled her glass with water. The excess water

pooled on the counter before running over the side and onto the tiled floor. Marty quickly

downed her second glass of water before she grabbed a few paper towels. Once the last

drop of water was gone, she knelt down on the floor and frantically tried to wipe up the

mess so that she could go back to sleep before
he
woke up again.

She was so tired....so damn tired and sore. She was sore in places she hadn’t even known

existed until today. As soon as she cleaned up this mess she was going back to bed to-

"Thirsty?"

"Oh, no," Marty whimpered, too afraid to look back. She didn't need to since she already

knew that it was
him
. Two warm hands gripped her hips and held her in place as he slowly

penetrated her.

This was not happening. It couldn't be. It had to be humanly impossible for a man to get

this many erections in a twenty-four hour period. It couldn't be healthy for him. She
knew

that it wasn't healthy for her, but once again her body betrayed her.

By morning she was going to need a vacation just to catch up on sleep.

-
-
-

Marty yawned and turned over onto her back just as a warm heavy weight settled on top

of her. Her eyes flew open just as Tristan slid inside of her.

"B-b-but I was only turning over. I was still sleeping!" she protested weakly as he rolled

his hips against hers.

He pressed a kiss to her lips. "Last time. I promise," he said with such an innocent

expression that she almost believed him.

-
-
-

"Baby, wake up." A pause. "Marty, it's time to wake up," Tristan said, giving her a little

shake.

Marty came awake with a start. When she saw him, she practically flew off the bed. The

entire time she refused to turn her back on him. She held out her hand in a stopping motion

towards him when he moved to go to her.

"Just stay away from me, Tristan Black," she warned as she backed up towards the

bathroom.

Tristan shook his head in disbelief as he watched Marty turn and practically run to the

bathroom. She slammed the door shut and seconds later locked it.

"What's wrong with her?" Shayne asked, materializing next to him.

He shrugged as he fixed his tie. "No idea. I'm guessing she's not a morning person."

Shayne snorted as they listened while Marty threatened a very vital part of Tristan's

anatomy. "Guess not, lad."

Chapter
20

"You and I need to talk," Tristan said quietly as he threw his bathroom door one last look

of longing. He wanted to take Marty back into his bed and hold her, but they had to move

their asses if they were going to make it to the therapy session early enough for him to

explain to the therapist that it would be in his best interest to sign Tristan's paper and forget

all about Hank's request.

"Ye don't have to thank me, lad," Shayne said, grinning hugely. "I was happy to help."

For a moment, Tristan could only stare at him, sure that he’d misheard. "You call that

help?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

Shayne nodded firmly, still grinning as he let out a happy little sigh. "Ye finally got the

lass right where ye want her."

"And you really think you had something to do with that?" Tristan asked in a low

whisper as he kept an eye on the door.

"Of course I did, lad," Shayne said, gesturing to the rumpled sheets. "Ye really didn't

think that ye managed to get her in bed with yer skills, now did ye?"

When Tristan only glared, Shayne let out an exaggerated sigh as he gave Tristan a pitying

look. "That really is sad, lad. Just sad," he said, shaking his head in sympathy.

"Say goodbye to your porn, you betraying bastard," he hissed, grinning hugely when

Shayne's jaw dropped.

"But that entertains me!"

Tristan merely shrugged as he adjusted his tie.

"It's educational!" Shayne protested.

Tristan chuckled as he grabbed his weapon off the bureau and attached it to his belt,

wincing when a muscle in his arm protested, but he ignored it. He had too much shit to do

and he wasn't about to let Hank put him back on full medical.

"Consider it gone," Tristan said as he checked his hair in the mirror.

Shayne let out a heartfelt sigh. "I didn't want to have to tell ye this, lad, but ye’ve left me

no choice. I'm afraid that I need to watch porn at least eight hours a day or I'll die."

"Uh huh," Tristan said absently as he attached a holster to his ankle.

"It's true, lad. I have a medical condition. I didn't tell ye, because I didn't want to worry

ye, lad," Shayne said with nod as if he truly thought this bullshit was believable.

"Do you know what you left me with yesterday when you pulled your disappearing act?"

Tristan asked, nervously glancing around the room when he suddenly remembered the

bimbo twins.

"I already took care of the lasses, lad," Shayne said, reading his mind, not literally, of

course. After all these years together it wasn't too difficult to figure out what the other one

was thinking.

"Not soon enough," he said, looking at his watch. They needed to move their asses now

if Marty was going to have a chance to go home and change into some clean clothes.

"Well, ye were being a bit of an ass yesterday, lad. So really, ye can't blame me for that

disappearing act," Shayne explained sheepishly.

"And I bet you were so upset that you just had to rush home and get a dose of porn to

help settle your nerves," he drawled as he turned around and leaned back, resting his hip

against the bureau while he waited for Marty.

"That's it exactly, lad," Shayne readily agreed.

Tristan couldn't help but chuckle. "You're pathetic."

"I really am and if ye get rid of my porn, I'll be too weak to help keep the lifeless lasses

away from ye," Shayne rushed to explain when they both knew that Tristan would never get

rid of the man's porn.

"Just make sure to keep that shit off the television when Marty's around," he said when

the bathroom door suddenly opened.

She paused in the doorway as she wrapped a large baby blue towel around herself. "Who

are you talking to?" she asked, frowning as she looked around the room.

"No one," Tristan said quickly, inwardly groaning when she cocked a disbelieving brow

in his direction.

"Real smooth, lad," Shayne drawled with an eye roll.

He barely stopped himself from flipping Shayne off as he walked over to Marty, who he

might add looked incredibly sexy wrapped up in one of his towels.

"Good morning," he said softly as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers,

hoping she'd forget that she heard him talking to himself. If this was going to work, and he

was going to damn well make sure that it did, he was going to have to be a hell of a lot

more careful when he was around her.

Thankfully she took pity on him and dropped it. "I have to go home and change," she

said, moving towards her discarded clothes from the night before, but not before she gave

him a proper good morning kiss that left him hard and more than ready to continue with last

night's activities.

"We have to go to work," she said around a yawn as she stepped away from him and

quickly dressed.

He held back a groan of frustration as he forced himself to stay right where he was, but it

was damn difficult, especially when she dropped her towel. There was no rush after all.

They'd go to work and then tonight he would take her out for dinner. Then they would

spend the rest of the night making up for all the years he'd stupidly wasted.

"We have to get going or we'll be late for your meeting," she said as she pulled her shoes

on.

"There's no rush, sweetheart. They’ll probably just sign me off when they realize that I

don’t really have an anger problem," he said, grabbing his keys and noting twin looks of

disbelief.

"I don't!" he snapped, feeling insulted.

When Shayne and Marty both rolled their eyes at that announcement, he decided that a

little clarification obviously was in order. "I don't have a fucking anger management

problem!"

-
-
-

"Hello, Detective Black, my name is Elizabeth. I'm so happy that you were able to make

it today," a woman a few inches taller than Marty, rail thin with glasses and a pixie cut, said

in a syrupy sweet tone better used on small children than on a six foot-two man packed with

muscle who was carrying a gun and was here for some help with his anger issues.