Scandalous Heroes Box Set (33 page)

The smug look on the man’s face told Reeve he didn’t believe Reeve even knew her. Whatever smartass comment he’d been about to make was halted, for a silver-haired man approached the podium. Everyone gave him their attention, quieting immediately.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we are honoring a woman who played an integral part in bringing an end to a horrific genocide event. After getting the images, she then had to run for her life and survive long enough to get rescued. Some of us are lucky to have her as a friend and the world is grateful to her for her selfless actions. Miss Affrica O’Shea.”

While people clapped, Reeve’s gaze had honed in on a woman who had stood and made her way toward the stage. His breath left him in a rush. Holy shit!

He’d passed over this woman, expecting Affrica to be…well, Affrica. And the woman he remembered. Not this. His mouth went totally dry, and it was like sucking on cotton. He half rose to go to her before regaining his senses.

Affrica wore a floor-length, form-fitting sequined evening dress. It showed everything and yet nothing. The sapphire blue hue highlighted the beauty of her smooth skin. The gown was amazingly elegant in its simplicity. It had a high neckline, fitted waist, and was sleeveless. A diamond back opening combined with a slit up to her knee allowed him to see hints of flesh when she moved.

Her hair had been gathered up into some kind of fancy twisty style which left two ringlets to hang on either side of her face. He’d lost his breath. She accepted the plaque with the same grace she did everything then stepped to the microphone.

“Thank you,” she said, her accent thick with emotion. “A heartfelt
thank you
to the men who rescued me, for doing what I didn’t think would ever happen, bringing me home. I may have been the one to bring the photos out but I was, by no means, the one who discovered the atrocities.” Her fingers smoothed over the item. “A young man named Davy Marshall is the one who should be accepting this. Unfortunately,” she paused. Pictures of a man with a camera around his neck and a grin on his face appeared on the wall behind her.

“Unfortunately, those behind the genocide took his life as well. I regret not knowing Davy very well and will miss him. So while I thank everyone for this honor, there’s another who deserves it more, Davy’s mother. Mrs. Irene Marshall.”

Reeve didn’t take his eyes off Affrica as Mrs. Marshall joined her on the stage. The women hugged, and Mrs. Marshall, who was of diminutive statue, spoke. Reeve sort of tuned her out. He wanted to be with Affrica up there. Be her support.

He’d searched online for the story and had been horrified at what he’d learned. No wonder Scott had rolled his eyes when he’d mentioned he knew nothing about what she’d gone through. It was in that moment Reeve realized how arrogant and spoiled he truly was. How out of touch with the world.

He and Affrica were on opposite sides of the spectrum. Not merely money but humanitarian. It was no wonder his brother was impressed with her. She had several charities she donated money and time to. Himself? He’d never been able to be bothered before.

The room erupted in applause, and he blinked a few times before joining in. The man clad in a black tuxedo with a tie glanced at him.

“I would love an introduction since you know her.”

There was no disguising the challenge in that arrogant tone.

“Sure, I think we should have sometime before we fly out on my jet.”

The man’s eyes widened before narrowing. “So you know her that well?” Waggling eyebrows conveyed the unasked question.

Ignoring his desire to punch him in the nose, Reeve merely smoothed his hand down his jacket and turned to face Affrica who made her way through the crowd.

“I bet you don’t even know her,” the obnoxious man said, close behind him.

Affrica headed in their direction, Reeve didn’t think she saw him but he remained fixated upon her. A growl formed in his throat when the man stepped around him and reached for her.

“Miss O’Shea, I can’t tell you how glad I am to know you are safe from your horrendous ordeal.”

She paused. “Mr. Price, right?” He nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Price.”

“Please call me Edward. I would love to sit down and talk about this. Do you have some free time soon?”

Reeve narrowed his eyes. Even a fool could see this man merely angled for time with her. And he wasn’t a fool.

“We can talk when I have my schedule near.”

Edward Price beamed and glanced at Reeve with an annoying satisfactory gleam in his beady little blue eyes. “Sounds excellent,” he said, retuning his attention on Affrica. “There is a guy here at my table who wanted to meet you. He’s right here.”

When her amazing eyes found him, Reeve felt his heart skip a few beats. Her entire visage morphed from professional to personal. A smile made her face light up.

“This is—”

“Och, I know who he is,” she interrupted. “Reeve Leighton, how are ya?” Her appreciative gaze moved over his tux and back to his face.

He took her hand and bent over it, eyes upon hers the entire time as he brushed his lips along her skin.

“Fine. You were amazing up there. And you look absolutely stunning.”

She ducked her head. Shyness? From Affrica? Could it be?

“Thank you.” Her reply was quiet.

“You probably need to mingle some more. I will wait here so come get me when you’re ready to go.”

Yes, he knew exactly what he was doing. Staking his claim. Especially with Mister Please-call-me-Edward looking and listening avidly. He brushed another kiss over her knuckles and released her.

“Will do,” she said before moving on to the next person.

He couldn’t—or was it
wouldn’t
—stop his smug smile at Edward as he retook his chair. The man shot him a nasty glare then hurried off after Affrica.

Reeve watched her but stayed at the table. This was her thing, her time. He could behave well enough to not impede this honor bestowed upon her. Finally, she began to walk back toward him, Mrs. Marshall at her side. He rose to meet them. Affrica made the introductions.

“Shall we?” he said, offering his arm to Mrs. Marshall.

“I can get on a plane myself.”

“Indulge me,” Reeve commented smoothly. “Both Affrica and I want to ensure you make it home. Besides, I do love having a beautiful woman on my arm.”

She laughed, and he peered over her head in time to catch the amusement on Affrica’s face. He assisted them both with their wraps, lingering a bit when he did Affrica’s. Then, they went to his chauffeured Bentley to take them to the plane, after swinging by the hotel to grab their things.

Once they were airborne, he fixed a bed for Mrs. Marshall who, at first, refused the bedroom, but she changed her mind, and he believed she slept as they cruised back toward the United States. Affrica stood, and he ogled the way the dress hugged her.

“I’m going ta change.”

He snagged her wrist and drew her across the aisle to his seat.

“You look amazing, Affrica,” he uttered with all honesty.

Her smile was tired but real. “Thanks. You are pretty sharp in that tuxedo as well.”

“Come here.” He tugged her to straddle his lap.

She had to lift the dress over her knees to accomplish it. But she did. And he had to admit he liked her astride him. And told her so.

“Pervert.”

He grinned at her as he ran his hands along the silken skin of her legs. His cock grew hard, and he closed his eyes, praying for strength. Especially when she rocked on him. He groaned and shook his head.

“Nae?” Her question was low and intimate as her fingers undid the bowtie at his neck.

“Mrs. Marshall—”

“She be fast asleep. In your bedroom which ya so kindly gave up for her.”

“She could wake up.”

“Then, you’ll hae ta make sure ya dinna scream.”

She began to undo the buttons on his shirt, only to pause and climb off his lap. Affrica peeked over her shoulder toward the cockpit before wriggling out of her panties. His mouth grew dry at the sight of her thong.

Bending at the waist, she retrieved the scrap of green plaid, wadded it up, and stuck it in the pocket of his tux jacket. She straddled him and got to work undoing the pearl buttons, exposing his chest.

“Affrica,” he said on a groan.

“Aye?”

“We shouldn’t.”

She gave him a wicked smile. “So stop me.”

Yeah, right. That wasn’t about to happen. He bit back the groan of pure bliss as she trailed her tongue along his pectorals.

He had no more complaints and let her have her way. This was a side of her he’d not been exposed to before. Still, he grunted his approval when she drew a condom from the front of her dress. She had him out, covered, and inside her wet heat before he could make a single, coherent thought.

It felt like it had been years since he’d been inside her walls of heated velvet. Her pussy gripped him firmly and his lids fluttered.

“Oh shit,” he moaned.

Chapter Eight

Oh shit was right. Affrica held immobile for a moment. She’d wanted to jump him the second she saw him tonight. Reeve knew how to wear a tux. On some men, it just…worked. He was one of those who excelled at it.

The perfect fit. The swagger and the oozing sexuality made her mouth water, and her body responded to the raw magnetism which poured from him.

She lowered her lids and enjoyed his thick shaft inside her. With deliberate and slow movements, she began to rock. The material from his tuxedo pants rubbed her inner thighs with each motion.

His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging in as she rode his thickness at her own pace. A euphoric haze settled around her. There still existed a thread of urgency but not one she couldn’t ignore.

They were in their own world as she rose and fell. Capturing her lower lip in her teeth, she struggled to keep her moans of pleasure contained. It wouldn’t do to have the pilots come check on them. Her eyes flew open when his hands left.

He reached for her hair, caressing the two ringlets before dismantling her coiffure. Her hair tumbled free, and she heard the rumble in his chest.

“Affrica.”

She leaned close, arms around his, as she worked her hips faster, driving her even closer to the brink. Nose against the side of his neck, she bit his skin before laving away the sting. Reeve anchored one hand up under her hair, cupping the back of her neck, and the other returned to her hips. Sweat trickled down his skin as he thrust up to meet her.

How she longed to scream in ecstasy. He turned his head and drew her earlobe into his mouth, giving it a tug. Simultaneously, his fingers flexed against her, and he stiffened. The silent intimacy sent her over, and she barely muffled her cry of pleasure.

Chest to pounding chest, she pulled back enough to meet his eyes. They still blazed with hunger, and she shuddered. Slowly, she rose from his lap and stepped back, her dress falling once again to cover her. One more lingering look at him and his cock before she made her way to the lavatory on legs which were none too steady. She snagged her bag on the way to change while in there.

Reeve waited outside the door when she exited. With a smile, she skirted past him and headed to one of the seats. Sinking down, she yawned and leaned back, eyes drifting closed. They opened when a blanket covered her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, snuggling down.

“We need to talk, Affrica.”

“Why?”

He sat beside her. “Really?”

She repositioned the seat in a more upright position. “Aye, really. I’m nae looking for anything more than just mutual relief, Reeve. I’ve no wish to make this more complicated.”

“Mutual relief.” The words were cold. “Right.” He got up and walked away.

Lying back, she sighed and closed her eyes as the interior darkened. As she sped into slumber, his expression haunted her. Could he be thinking something different of what they shared?

Worry on it tomorrow,
she told herself.

She slept well and ate in the morning with both Mrs. Marshall and Reeve, who was the consummate gentleman. Then, he left them alone after they finished.

“Your young man is a keeper.”

“My young… Oh no…he’s nae mine.” She flicked a glance over to Reeve, who stood making himself a drink. While he no longer wore the tuxedo, he still looked damn good in the dark jeans and merlot t-shirt.

“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Marshall pinned her with a look of disbelief. “Just a nice friend to fly you back from Australia.”

Like talking to Ma.

“Actually, he’s doing it because it is the only way I would make it in time to take the pictures of his parents’ anniversary.”

Blue eyes twinkled at her. “If you need to tell yourself that.” Reeve walked near. “However, seems to me there is more there. I’ve seen the looks between you two,” she added in Gaelige.

“Nonsense,” she replied in the same language.

Reeve glanced between them before he placed his attention on Mrs. Marshall and proceeded to charm her even more.

Apparently, he has the same effect on all women of any age.

The remainder of the twenty-hour flight, they chatted before eventually drifting apart to do their own thing. Mrs. Marshall worked her way through a story. Affrica sat in a spot with her computer up in front of her, earphones in, and she got to work on some finishing up some items requiring her attention.

So in tune to her work, she jumped when a glass of soda was set before her. Reeve stood there, a can of Coke in his own hand. Removing one ear bud, she arched a brow at him.

He sat across from her. “You looked thirsty.”

“Thank you.”

“Who are you listening to?”

“
Mir
.”

His brows converged before he reached out and snagged her earpiece and listened. She watched his face, inwardly pleased he liked it.

“Who is this again? I’ve never heard them but this is good stuff.”

“
Mir.
I’m not surprised you’ve not heard of them. They’re a small pentad group I discovered over in Herzegovina. Well, not discovered in the they’re mine way, but I came across them there.”