Sheltering His Desire (20 page)

She gasped, each breath growing shorter as
the combination of him hitting her G-spot and fingering her pushed
her to a fast climax. She wanted to draw the moment out, though.
Sink into the pleasure. She pounded against him, and this time he
let her set the pace. Orgasm flowed through her. Her pussy clenched
around his cock, spasming, milking him. He pulled away from her
swollen sex, and pushed her other knee forward. His grunts grew
more labored and thrusting more frantic. She recognized the
familiar sound of him coming, and seconds later, he spilled inside
her.

He continued to pound a moment longer, until
the edge faded from her ecstasy. He finally slowed, then stopped
and let go of her legs. Still inside her, he bent in and brushed
his lips over hers. “I want this for the rest of our lives. This…
everything. This us.” His words were punctuated with him struggling
to catch his breath.

She nodded. “Me too.”

He rolled off, and they shifted on the bed
until she could rest her head on his chest. She could only focus on
a single thought, as they intertwined their fingers and rested
their hands on his chest. This was absolutely perfect.

Consciousness trickled into Tate’s thoughts,
bringing the ache of a black eye with it. He groaned and tried to
ignore the throb as he forced himself to sit. He was the only one
in bed. Sun shone through the window, striking his face and making
him wince.

“Lys.” He called through the apartment.

“Living room. You need to see this.”

He couldn’t tell if she sounded stressed out,
or excited, or something else. He stumbled to his feet, and pulled
on his clothes as he walked. For a moment he considered leaving it
all behind, but with his luck Jared would be out there, or
something equally as awkward.

Lys sat on the couch, wearing one of Tate’s
button-down shirts, and possibly not much else from the look of her
bare legs tucked beneath her. She nodded at the TV. “Sara texted
me. Said we made the morning news.”

It wasn’t Thompson’s affiliate, it was the
competition. And as Tate watched the clip, he understood why. It
was a shaky, low quality video of the brawl last night, complete
with subtitles of every abusive, arrogant comment Bryce Jr. had
made.

Tate sank onto the couch, blinking back his
surprise. “How’d they get this? It’s not security footage.”

“Sara. She said she was sorry, but not
really.”

“Wow.” He listened to the newsman explain
Bryce Thompson Jr. had been arrested. Bryce Thompson Sr. had issued
a public apology for the unknowingly false reports they’d done on
the shelter, and had refused any other comment.

“Thompson is going to be pissed,” Tate
muttered. “He won’t let this drop.” Not that it mattered.

Lys leaned her head against his shoulder.
“We’ll deal with it.” Her words echoed his thoughts. “If there’s
backlash, we’ll handle it together.”

****

Tate held out Lys’s chair for her, then slid
it in as she sat, before taking his own seat across from her. It
was taking a large part of his focus to keep his pulse from
galloping away. He could be patient though. Only a few other diners
were in the restaurant, and all sat several tables away. He’d made
sure their reservations tonight would be perfect. Already discussed
the meal with the chef, made sure they’d have the alcohol-free
sparkling wine on hand for Lys.

The whole evening had to be just right.
Though, given the company, he would have been okay with a crowded
cafeteria off the interstate. Her black dress hugged her figure
perfectly, flaring out at the waist, ending just above her knees.
She was only seven weeks along, so she wasn’t showing yet.

He’d struggled with the news of the baby. It
had come as a huge shock, and he had to admit, he’d been terrified
during the entire conversation with Lys. But the longer he thought
about it, the more it felt right. He might not have enjoyed his
childhood, and he had issues with his parents, but he’d seen other
examples of amazing families all around him. Their child was going
to have the same thing—a good, caring home. And he knew he didn’t
want it any other way.

She draped her napkin over her knees, and
sipped her drink, looking everywhere but him. That was odd. He beat
back a creeping smidgen of doubt. “I wanted to talk to you about
something.” She finally met his gaze.

His mind produced about five billion
scenarios simultaneously, and he banished them all. No reason to
jump to conclusions when she was sitting right there, about to
finish her thought. “Sure. What’s up?”

She tapped her fingers on the stem of her
glass. “Now that Bryce Jr.’s preliminary hearing is over, the
shelter can settle up some of our outstanding paperwork.”

It hadn’t been easy for her to testify when
they determined whether or not the teenager should stand
trial—reiterating what was wrong with Grim when he’d been brought
in—but thanks to her, and Sara’s video, the prosecution had a solid
enough case to proceed.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “We
need to place Grim. And I think I’ve found the perfect spot for
him.”

She would have found Grim a new home before
now, but because of how public the case had become, the shelter
held onto him until everything was legally finalized. Something sad
tugged at Tate’s chest, masking the giddy nervousness that had been
there seconds earlier. He’d spent a lot of time playing with that
dog during recovery. “That’s fantastic.” His tone came out flatter
than he intended.

“The thing is, I’d like to see him with you.
You’ve got the yard, he already loves you, and, well…”

Tate couldn’t help his grin at the
suggestion. He’d never even considered the idea. “I’d love to keep
him. Are you sure? Am I allowed to do that?”

“Of course you are.” She laughed. “There’s a
probationary period, but since you’ve spent half your free time
with him, I’m not worried.”

He let his joy mingle with his growing
anticipation. He hadn’t been sure when he wanted to do this. The
meal was planned, the details were supposed to be spontaneous. Now
seemed like as good a time for a segue as any. So why had his heart
just paused? An unfamiliar nervousness fluttered through him
“Speaking of having a lot of room…” He fumbled with a velvet box in
his pocket, fingers suddenly feeling flimsy. “I want you to know,
I’m so happy about the baby. And your pregnancy doesn’t change how
I feel about you.”

She furrowed her brow, and tilted her head.
“I know.”

He finally grasped the box, and knelt next to
her. “We’ve only been dating for a few months, but you’ve been my
world for a long time. My best friend, my confidant, my everything.
Alyssia Tippins, will you marry me?” He opened the box, to expose a
ring with a recessed band of diamonds.

She gasped, and nodded. “Yes, and a million
times over, yes.”

He shouldn’t have been nervous, of course
she’d agree, but the reassurance didn’t stop relief and joy from
filling him. He slipped the ring onto her finger, stood, and
brushed his lips over hers. She hooked her fingers at the back of
his neck, and held him close for several more seconds, deepening
the kiss.

He couldn’t think of a better future. Things
would only get better from here on out.

THE END

~*~ Vivian and Damon are heating up the pages
in Securing Her Surrender (Love Hack 3), available October 2015.
Keep reading for a free sneak peek of Chapter One. ~*~

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Vivian hooked the heels of her shoes on the
rung of the tall stool, leaned against the high table, and let her
gaze wander around the bar area of the restaurant. She’d thought
about going home to change after work, before heading here, but if
she walked into her condo, she wouldn’t want to leave again.
Tonight, she was determined to enjoy a night out, to prove to
herself she still knew how to have fun, even if her two closest
friends were getting married and had their own lives now.

Which, when she thought about it, was sad.
Not that they were engaged—she wished Jared and Tate nothing but
the best of luck and adored their fiancées. What struck her as a
little pathetic was that the only people she called true friends
were her two executive counterparts from work. People she didn’t
even know until five or six years ago.

She tucked the journey into poor-me-ville
aside, and took another sip of her cranberry and vodka. Her career
was as important to her as not surrendering her individuality to
someone else. Of course her colleagues were her best friends. Which
meant she missed their company, as much as she tried to deny
it.

If Jared were here… He’d probably have Mikki
with him, who would be showing him how to play some game with
saltshakers or something. Vivian couldn’t even begin to predict
what that woman was thinking half the time. There was Tate, who
wouldn’t be here without Jared—or rather, these days, without
Alyssia, who was about eight months pregnant and looking every bit
like a glowing mother to be. Vivian never thought she’d see the day
when Tate fell into fatherhood, but she could tell he was going to
be awesome at it.

Maybe heading out tonight was a bad idea. She
downed the rest of her drink in a single gulp, eyes watering as the
liquor burned down her throat. She’d get something to go, find a
movie to watch at home, and not let herself sink into
self-pity.

“Vivian?”

The familiar voice dug something from deep
inside her and twisted her insides in on themselves. Not because
she’d know that voice anywhere, and not because hearing him still
sent chills through her, after all these years—which it didn’t at
all—but because he was supposed to be halfway across the country,
in his hometown. If Damon was here, it could only mean trouble.

She summoned a smile and turned toward him.
“Councilor, we didn’t expect you in town for this.” Through the
pleasant formality, her mind worked overtime to figure out how much
disruption his presence was going to cause tomorrow, in the
office.

He raised an eyebrow. How was it fair he
pulled off gorgeous after all this time? Mid-thirties, and he still
looked like he did when they were in college together. Brown hair
trimmed close. Captivating eyes. The biggest difference from back
then was a button-down shirt hugged his broad shoulders now instead
of a T-shirt, and slacks covered a sexy ass, as opposed to the
jeans he’d preferred back then.

“Councilor? Really?” Amusement lined his
tone. “That’s the best I get?”

She wasn’t going to fall into flirting with
him, as much as part of her itched to. Even though she knew better,
every time they’d run into each other in the last couple of years,
there had been flirting. It wasn’t professional, and not starting
was the best way to keep it from happening. “You’d prefer…?”

He slid out the stool next to her, and took a
seat at her table. “My name would be nice. Are you alone tonight,
or are your boys around here somewhere?”

A short laugh slipped out before she could
stop it, and she tried to cover it with cool irritation she didn’t
feel. “My what?” She knew exactly who he was talking about.

“I apologize. Your colleagues. Not that you
need the clarification.”

“They’re home. They have other lives
now.”

His smile grew, and the corners of his eyes
crinkled. “Then it’s my lucky night twice over. Running into you.
Alone. I don’t think they like me very much.”

She reached for her drink, more to give her
hands something to do, than because she was thirsty. Right. She’d
finished it. She twitched her fingers against the glass. “You’re
Head Legal Counsel for the company that spends entirely too much of
their money and time trying to rip us off. Can you blame Jared and
Tate for not liking you?”

“That’s not it. I think they just don’t like
me.” Damon’s tone was teasing, with no hint of malice. He waved
down a waitress. “Guinness for me, and another cranberry and vodka
for my friend.”

The girl nodded and scurried toward the
bar.

Vivian wanted to protest the assumption, but
it warmed her that he knew her preferred drink. She shook aside her
buzz of appreciation for his attention. Maybe she should have had
something to eat, along with the two drinks she’d already polished
off.

Damon squeezed her fingers, his touch sending
a pleasant shock through her. “It’s good to see you, Vivian.”

The simple compliment clenched in her gut and
dragged up her earlier loneliness. She squelched the reaction. She
wasn’t opposed to picking up a random guy in a bar—
no
strings
was her preferred lifestyle—but Damon wasn’t random.
“Same here.” She kept her words neutral.

“I mean it.”

How was she supposed to respond to that?
Change the subject. “I’m surprised you’re in town. I thought you’d
leave something tedious like discovery depositions to someone
else.”

He drew a finger along the back of her hand
and up her arm, gaze locked on hers. “I thought I’d be a little
more hands-on this time.”

Heat jolted through her, filling her veins
and tingling in her skin.
Don’t react. He’s testing your
limits.
Telling her body to calm down didn’t have as much of an
impact as the searching look he gave her. “We’re talking about the
depositions still. Right?” She forced herself to sound calm, but
didn’t pull away from his touch.

He nodded at the waitress, when she set their
drinks in front of them, but never pulled his attention from
Vivian. “The thing is, if we talk about the depositions or work, or
anything professional, we have to take almost all of it off the
table, to avoid any kind of conflict-of-interest issues. Which
means we run out of things to talk about in an instant. So I was
hoping we could shelve that and be old friends catching up on
everything except work.”