Incendiary (34 page)

“No,” he says with a certainty that I can’t help but trust. “If there are any other problems, I’ll tell you.”

“Any word about whoever got into my room?”

“No, sweetheart,” he says with a smidgeon of impatience. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I believe him. Laying my hand against his jaw, I caress it, just as the guys end the song and the sound of my phone peals through the room. Immediately, I think of Bryn. It can only be Zelda calling about the baby.

Sloane assumes the same thing. “Stay here while I tell Zelda we’ll be up in a minute.”

“I want to tell Josh ‘bye’,” I say, running to my phone before it stops. Picking it up and looking at the screen, I groan.

Not Zelda. Crowell.

Although I’d intended to identify the caller to Sloane, he doesn’t give me the chance. He looks over my shoulder.

“Motherfucker,” he snarls, snatching the phone from me and redialing. He flicks on the speakerphone.

“You fucking married him, George?” Crowell whines in greeting. “It’s all over the fucking news.”

Fury blackens Sloane’s eyes and his face reddens. I cringe.

“George!”

“Not George, fucker,” Sloane snarls, so livid it sounds as if a demon has invaded him. “I told you to stay the fuck away from Georgie. Didn’t I?”

Sloane’s hands are shaking. This is bad.

“I know you’re there, Georgie,” Crowell says, his fear wafting through the airwaves. “Tell him to back off. I just wanted to check on you and tell you congratulations.”

Josh glares at the phone, but even he won’t speak to set Sloane off.

“My wife is right next to me,” Sloane confirms. “That’s good. She can hear exactly what the fuck I’ll do to you when I get my hands on you this time. Crack a few additional fucking ribs. Break your fucking knee caps. Pulverize every fucking bone in your fingers to dust with a hammer. Find an icepick and make a ring of holes over your black fucking heart. Let’s see. What else?”

“Fuck, are you serious?” I gasp. “What else is left?”

Apparently nothing, because the line goes dead.

Grabbing my hand, Sloane clenches his jaw. “Right, Georgie.” He yanks me away and through the crowd toward the front door, screaming, “Bring me my fucking car.”

As we stand outside waiting for Sloane’s car, I flex my hand in his. He stiffens but doesn’t release me.

“Sloane?”

A noisy breath escapes him. “What?”

“I can’t leave Bryn.”

He’s silent for a moment, before huffing out a breath and drawing me into his arms. Swallowing and breathing in his scent, I bury my nose against his chest and hook my fingers through the mesh on his shirt. His heart is pounding and tension still stiffens his body.

“Call Abby.” He digs into his pocket, grabs his cell phone, and hands it to me. “Tell her to meet us at her condo with Zelda.”

Once I comply, he gazes off into the distance. “You know what I did to Crowell, don’t you?” he grits out.

“Yes.”

“That motherfucker told you.”

He doesn’t pose it as a question, but a conclusion based on his hatred of Crowell.

I bite my lip and look at my toes, peeking out from beneath the hem of my dress.

”That means you’ve talked to him since I beat his fucking ass.”

I nod, the word
‘yes,’
escaping in a bare whisper.

“When did you talk to him?”

“Two days after Detective Jackson visited me and…and I lost the call. I had the television on and that was when I saw you being led away. I haven’t spoken to him since that day.”

“You called him?”

“No. He called me.”

“After I warned him
not
to ever contact you again, he…what did he want?”

“To apologize,” I mumble.

“That’s not all he fucking wanted. Not based on your reaction.”

Embarrassment heats my face and Sloane growls.

“He wanted to fuck you, didn’t he?”

“No! I mean, not really. No. He wanted to tell me he wished I was pregnant for him.”

“Did he?” he asks mildly, as if someone has flipped a switch that turns off his anger, though I’m not fooled. He’s seething.

Light breaches the black of his hair, highlighting the deep brown masked beneath. His full lips always makes kissing enjoyable. Sloane knows how to work them on more than just my mouth. Pussy eating is one of his specialties and he drove me wild with his tongue swipes and clit sucking. Thinking of having him inside of me again heats me up. I can’t wait until I’m healed.

“Can we forget about Crowell?”

“Only if I erase that motherfucker from the face of the earth.”

A shiny black car glides to a stop before us and Sloane grits his teeth, not ready to release his anger. Hand at the small of my back, he opens the door and ushers me into the car. It smells of leather and polish, the feel of the soft seats and shiny interior momentarily sidetracking me. I don’t know much about cars if they don’t belong to Sloane.

He slides into the driver’s seat, all raw masculinity, and hot man candy.

“This is your Aston?” I ask faintly.

He swerves away, and I catch my breath at the sexy smile he offers me as his long fingers grip the steering wheel.

“Is it?” he teases, all of his violent tendencies completely gone.

Nervous, I take in its features, then I notice the wings on the steering wheel and I nod, venturing further. “Your Vanquish, Volante style, Carbon Edition.”

He concentrates on the road, not responding.

Butterflies take root inside me and I squirm in my seat. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replies. “Maitland drove my car here while I was locked up.”

Sloane loves cars and has several kickass automobiles. An Enzo, the GT3-R, a Land Rover, and a Maybach.

As he speeds away, I let my hair down to blow in the hot wind. My long, lacy sleeves are starting to stick to me with the sweat I’m generating in this summer heat.

Once upon a time, I believed I knew everything about Sloane Mason. I was his number one fan and he was my idol. Then, I met him and discovered differently. Still, I worshiped at his feet. He saved me when no one else would. I saw forever for us. I believed in him.

Now, he’s my husband. My romantic-at-heart, rock god.

Maybe, my trust in him wasn’t misplaced after all.

I push Crowell to the back of my mind. He’ll be dealt with, but tonight is for my wife. She stands before me, completely nude, her hair a gleaming mass of ebony, falling down her shoulders and back. Her breasts are bigger, her nipples swollen. She still has signs of a recent pregnancy in her stomach, and I know that’s why she’s shy.

“Sloane?” Uncertainty fills her soft voice. She squirms, while anticipation sparks my blood.

We’re at Abby’s condo. Bryn is with Zelda in the other bedroom, after preparing this one—
Abby’s
—for Georgie and me. Although I know I still can’t stick my dick in her, I needed to see her beautiful body, so I told her we’d shower together.

Seeing Georgie without clothes and all mine makes my breath come out in short pants and my dick’s so hard it’s hurting. Her lashes flicker down then up again.

Hugging her, I hold her close, just because I can. Because she’s my wife.

I remove my shirt and lay it on the counter that’s filled with my aunt’s makeup and hair products. “Look at me.”

Georgie meets my gaze, then drops it to my trousers as I unbuckle my belt. Though I want to see those gorgeous irises, I’m satisfied that she’s focused on my dick as I free it.

Without my direction, she helps me out of my pants and drops to her knees, taking me into her mouth. I gasp. She isn’t shy about sucking me with hard, fast draws. I feed her my cock and she’s gluttonous as she gobbles as much as possible. Easing her head back and locking my hands at the base of her neck, I stand almost directly above her. I hammer her sweet mouth, catching and holding her gaze, my balls riding her chin.

She moans, and my cum bathes her tongue and throat. She doesn’t stop sucking my cock. The sensation in my dick tip force me to pull away. I’ll buckle to my knees if she continues.

When she’s on her feet, I slant my mouth over hers, kissing her hard and deep. She tastes like cum and champagne.

Her passion matches mine and we devour each other. I lift her into my arms, losing myself in her softness, her warm vanilla scent invading my nostrils in a heady rush. “I want to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she breathes, clinging to me, as addicted to my kisses as I am to hers. I can’t get enough of her taste and smell, the feel of her body. “But you can’t.”

I’m torturing both of us, needing to be inside of her so bad. I
can’t
make love to her, but I can have her another way. If she agrees. Combing my fingers through her hair, I caress the back of her head, trail my tongue down her throat. “I can have you.”

She throws her head back, her nipples pressing against me. I swipe my tongue over one, remembering too late she doesn’t want to share her milk with me. “How?”

“Trust me, Georgie.”

“I still have stitches.”

My tongue tangles with hers and she whimpers against my mouth. Fuck, I need her. I need inside of her. It’s been so long since we’ve been intimate. Longing merges with want, need, desire, all pent up and stored for her. I tear my mouth from hers and stare into her eyes, willing her to trust me. “I don’t mean sinking my dick in your cunt. I mean taking your ass. I’ll do it slowly so it won’t hurt. I’ll caress your clit until you come while I fuck your ass.”

The crassness of my words cross my mind, but fuck, I never think clearly with Georgie.

She stills in my arms.

“I don’t…I don’t think I’ll like that. I mean, maybe later, when I’m all the way healed. And stuff,” she adds on a mumble when I scowl at her. Not because I’m angry that she’s denied me, but because I need the comfort of her body.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks in a small voice.

“No, sweetheart. I…you’re right. I shouldn’t have asked you to do anal.” As if she’s a random groupie who’ll service me any way I demand.

Delicate facial bones contour her features. She looks like a little nymph, a goddess of the earth who became my essence from the day we met. Her giving birth to my daughter has me even more in awe of her.

She squirms past me and heads to the shower. I imagined we’d linger, drive each other insane beneath the heat of the water. We don’t.

Back in the bedroom, I search the suitcase Zelda packed for me and delivered when she arrived with Bryn.

Once I’m dressed, I watch Georgie going through her things. She keeps looking toward the door and I know she wants Bryn. Sighing, I squeeze the bridge of my nose.

“We have to talk,” I tell her.

“Give me five minutes.” She quickly settles on something to wear, but blushes, grabs a couple of items from her bag and heads back to the bathroom.

I don’t want to return to the bedroom and hear what Sloane has to say, not believing it’ll be anything good. He sounded so grim when he announced we need to talk. My imagination runs wild, but always returns to my denial of him fucking me in the ass.

Crowell threatened to do the same thing to me. He made it sound cruel and debasing. Sloane just seemed determined to have me any way possible

Running my fingers over my braid, I sigh, wondering what we are to each other. What I am to him. What he is to me.

He loves me and I love him. We’re married. All of it is more than I ever dreamed of. On the other hand, at the heart of the matter is the fact that I don’t expect him
not
to leave me.

That’s what I’m here for.

To be left or locked away.

Maybe, I should let him take me as he wants. And I would if I had any desire for sex in any way. I’m self-conscious about my body and don’t feel particularly sexy. And I’m just not in the mood to do anything more than I did when I sucked his cock.

I stare at my hand, in particular my left finger, where my engagement ring and wedding band are. He could’ve just gotten me something simple, instead of an entire set. I love it, but I wonder if he’s now done with giving me attention and will lump me into the same box as Grandma and my parents. Spoil me rotten, but keep me out of the way.

“Georgiana!” His tone impatient startles me. I’ve already disappointed him once tonight, so I don’t tarry another moment. In the bedroom, he sits on the edge of the bed, arms folded, handsome face twisted in a scowl.

“Hey.”

“It’s almost time for you to nurse the baby, right?”

“Yes.” I glance at Abby’s wall clock and a surprised giggle escapes me. Big red numbers are piled in one corner of the yellow face, nowhere near either of the black hands.
What the fuck
is engraved in dark letters, arched above the hands. “I want that clock.”

Sloane spares it a glance, before turning his attention back to me. “Can you focus on
me
for a minute?”

The man has a split personality. Sometimes, he’s sweeter than honey. Other times, he’s a fucking jerk. “I’m listening.”

He rubs a hand over his face. “We’ll be in LA for a few weeks to work on another album.”

“Have fun.” I married him without securing his promise of fidelity. It’s too late to ask for it now. Not commenting further, I sit next to him. Ten minutes left before I have to nurse Bryn. I won’t spend my wedding night arguing over his roaming dick. Other things need settling. “We’ll be fine here with Abby.”

“You’re not staying here. You’re going to the house in Denver, along with Zelda and Abby. Bullard, the band’s pilot,” he reminds me, although I haven’t forgotten the man’s name, “will be here in a day to collect the three of you. After he drops us off in LA.”

”So you’re taking my suggestion that we lead separate lives after all?”

“Not really. You’ll be in Denver, setting up our house.”

“The house is already set up.”

“According to my designer’s tastes. You may have your own ideas.”

As if I care about throwing a bunch of money away to redo his house. It’s gorgeous. “You were so adamant about us not separating I thought I was traveling with you.”

“You need a security detail of your own. I was too busy planning your wedding. There wasn’t enough time. Besides, it may be a good idea to keep a low profile until your eighteenth birthday.”

Dejected, I sit on my hands so I won’t touch his tattoos, and change the subject. “I need doctors for Bryn and I…I’ll soon need my six-week checkup and so will she. I’ve also settled on the birth control I want, so—”

“I don’t want you on birth control,” he interrupts.

Sure I’ve misheard, I stare at him. “What?”

“You heard me. No birth control.”

Yes, his words are loud and clear this time. They were the first time, too. I just hadn’t believed he’d actually said them. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“That’s another fucking thing—” he warns through gritted teeth.

I roll my eyes. “Language,” I cut in. He’s so fucking anal about my cussing. I huff out a breath. “You aren’t serious about the birth control, right? I mean, why in the world
wouldn’t
I protect myself against another pregnancy?”

“
I
don’t want only one child and it’s best if the kids are born close together.”

“Well, dickhead, when
you
figure out how to carry those babies yourself, we’ll have more.” Of all the bullshit that Sloane’s ever demanded, this is by far, the cheekiest and most ludicrous.

“How long are you going to breastfeed Bryn?”

“For sure six weeks.” I haven’t decided what I’ll do beyond that. The decisions facing me are a little overwhelming. But I want what’s best for her. “Once I talk to our doctors, I’ll make a final decision.” That’s the best answer I can give to him.

“Hire a nanny,” he tells me as if my words fly right over his head. “Some of the burdens of caring for Bryn will be taken from you. I want you pregnant again as soon as possible.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“As long as you’re breastfeeding or pregnant, you’ll stay away from alcohol and drugs,” he continues without missing a beat.

Too stunned to respond, I blink. But he doesn’t require my input. He goes on.

“I’m not asking if I
can
make you pregnant again. I’m telling you I
will
.”

“Asshole,” I yell, livid at his high-handed, fucked-up, chauvinistic order. “This is
my
body. I happen to not want to use it as a house for one of your spawns. At least for another two or three years.”