Your To Take - Connaghers 03 (3 page)

It wasn’t her house or possessions that made him want to
fall on his knees with thanksgiving. It was Vicki. She’d always been the center
of his meager existence. Now, she’d taken him off the streets and protected
him. She’d held his hand and sworn to help him.

That made
her
his home.

Staring up at the ceiling, he tried not to picture her lying
in her bed with her boyfriend, but it was a losing battle. Maybe her bedroom
was right above. If so, he’d be able to hear them making love. He’d hear her pleasure.
The thought made him unbearably hard, his cock throbbing in the borrowed cotton
pants, but he did nothing about it.

All his arousal was for her, if she wanted it. If she needed
it. In his mind, he imagined her giving him the order not to touch himself. No
pleasure unless she gave it.

She didn’t wear a ring, so he didn’t think she was that
serious about the cop, but they’d obviously known each other a long time. They
had a way of working together, even when they spat and clawed at each other
like alley cats. Reyes made it painfully obvious that he’d claimed her. He
wouldn’t hesitate to throw anyone dumb enough to challenge him up against the
wall again to protect what was his.

Jesse didn’t care if the cop had primary claim on her, not
really, as long as
she
claimed
him
. He’d do anything she wanted.
Hell, he’d beg the cop to do him if that’s what it took to stay close and
eventually find his way to her—their—bed.

C
laim me as yours, even if that means I have to be his.

Chapter Three

Vicki opened the door with a huge smile that was as much a
wondrous luxury as the soft bed and warm blankets. “Morning, Jesse. How’d you
sleep?”

“Great, thank you so much. I can’t remember the last time I
slept like that. Did I sleep too late?”

“Of course not. I don’t plan to let you do anything but
sleep and eat all day. You need the rest. Besides, the snow’s so bad that
everything’s closed today. Elias called and said he barely made it downtown.”

Relieved that the other man was long gone, Jesse stepped
inside, enjoying the sweet smell of something baking and the welcoming, natural
warmth of her home. He noted the folded blankets and pillow on the couch. She’d
headed toward the kitchen, so she didn’t see his fierce, glad smile at the
thought of the cop stuck on the couch last night.

Good for her. Good for me.

“How do you take your coffee?” she called, her voice drawing
him like the ceaseless power of the moon over the tides. “Take a seat.
Breakfast’s almost ready.”

“Hot. Leaded. Anything else is a bonus.”

She set a steaming mug in front of him along with a carton
of cream. “There’s sugar in the bowl if you want it.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“Later,” she promised as if she knew that he burned to pay
her back in whatever way possible. “Let’s figure out a game plan first. Like my
oldest brother always says, you can’t expect to win the game if you don’t
plan
to win.” Smiling softly, she cocked a hip against the bar and watched him spoon
in sugar and cream. “You said last night that you have your GED. I know you’re
a talented artist. What else do you like to do? What can you do?”

He took a sip of coffee, reveling in the rich, strong taste
on his tongue, while he carefully considered how best to respond. He’d never
lie to her, but she might not accept—or believe—the truth, at least not before
getting to know him better. “I’ll do anything. Shovel manure. Load trucks. Wash
dishes.”

Let your cop slam me up against the wall again.

She frowned, and he was afraid he’d said that last bit out
loud. “Maybe the better question would be, what do you want to avoid? You’re
too talented an artist to be stuck doing manual labor all your life.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll always do the art in my free time.”

“I’ll call my brother and see if he has any positions open
at VCONN. I trust him to take good care of you.” The oven dinged, so she
removed the pan of muffins. “Hope you like blueberries.”

If this brother was the big, mean one she’d mentioned last
night—and even half as powerful and charismatic as his sister—Jesse could only
hope to survive the interview intact. “I’ll eat anything.”

She slid a saucer in front of him bearing a piping hot
muffin that made his mouth water. His stomach rumbled like he’d never eaten a
crumb of food in his life. Flushing, he dropped his gaze. It was all he could
do not to fall on the food like a starving wolf.

Her hands closed over his and he jumped in his seat, jerking
his gaze up to hers. She bowed her head. “Dear Father in heaven, thank you for
bringing Jesse to me. Help me find him a good job, and forgive me for keeping this
prayer short because I’m starving too. Amen.”

She started to pull her hands back, but he couldn’t help but
twist his hands in her grip so he could clutch her fingers a moment. Staring
into her dark chocolate eyes, he tried to convey his feelings without saying a
word. Maybe it worked, because her eyes sparked and her fingers convulsed.

Gently, she pulled free. “More coffee?”

“No thank you, ma’am.”

“Please don’t call me that. You make me feel as old as my
mother. My name is Vicki.” Grimacing, she refilled her cup. “Well, that’s not
actually my real name. My oldest brother’s name is Victor. When I was little, I
couldn’t say his name, but I could say V, and I liked him to call me Little V.
Eventually, my family settled on calling me Vicki, much to my relief. My middle
brother always told me I was lucky—at least they hadn’t given me his name,
Verrill.”

Two brothers he’d have to deal with, on top of the cop.
“Sounds like your family has a weird thing for names that begin with V.”

“Oh, yeah, you could say that. Mama’s name is Virginia, so
my parents decided to name us all with V names. My real name’s Beulah Virginia,
after my Grandma too, but if you ever call me that, I’ll be tempted to hogtie
you.”

His heart pounded, his palms sweated, and he swayed.
Struggling to regain control, he willed the image away. Bound, helpless, for
her. God, he could die a very happy man if that ever happened.

“Jesse? Are you okay?”

Trying to hide how much she affected him, he took a mouthful
of muffin. So sweet, so good, but not as good as that little fantasy she’d
unintentionally given him. “I’m fine. Just hungry, ma’am.”

“Vicki.” She arched a brow at him in challenge. “And my last
name is Connagher.”

“Vicki.” What a rush to be given her real name, along with
the permission to use it. Luckily, she put another muffin on his plate. Eating
seconds bought him enough time for his hard-on to ease.

Hours passed in companionable, comfortable silence. Jesse
had a way of being present and close without being intrusive. When she headed
downstairs to work on her designs, he automatically slipped into “work” mode
and let her think without making her feel like she needed to entertain him.

However, her nagging problem wouldn’t let her get any work
done. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her line and she was running
out of time. “Something’s missing.”

He looked up from his own art. “Would it help to talk
through your ideas?”

“Actually, it might. If you don’t mind.”

He’d already set his paper aside and stood to join her.
“I’ll never mind anything you ask.”

The way he said it—his voice all low and fervent—made things
tighten in her body that hadn’t been interested in anybody but Elias in a very
long time.

Maybe he’s right to be jealous.

Shaken, she busied herself with shifting the racks to display
each outfit clearly. She hadn’t come to any sort of permanent relationship or
agreement with him, but she cared for him. When she wasn’t totally infuriated,
she could admit that she loved him. Even though he’d been absent for three
months, that didn’t give her any reason to feel attracted to Jesse. He was so
grateful for her help, God only knew how far he’d go out of a sense of
obligation.

The thought made her hands tremble, that she could be
capable of abusing him like that, one of countless people who’d hurt and used
him.

I’m not going to take advantage of him just because I’m
lonely and pissed at my boyfriend. He—and Elias too—deserves better than that.

“I need ten solid outfits for the show next month.” Her
voice quivered, but he didn’t seem to notice. “They should all fit together
seamlessly and tell a story. They don’t have to use exactly the same colors or
fabrics, but there should be a cohesiveness that brings the line together.
Since I worked in a law office, I want to target professional women who need to
move from the courtroom or office to an evening out with the least amount of
fuss, with the occasional special outfit for big events.”

She turned the first rack containing a red gown around so he
could see the low-cut back. “Understated, but sexy. I designed this one for my
soon-to-be sister-in-law. She’s already worn it once to a charity event, but
I’m still going to use it to open the show.”

“I don’t know much about fashion.” Jesse fingered the silk,
lifted the hem, and admired the way the skirt fluttered down. “The back is
unique, low cut, but narrower than I would expect. Is that deliberate?”

She couldn’t help the slow burn heating her cheeks. How to
put it nicely without embarrassing herself? “The V-cut back is significant to
her and my brother, and I had to make it narrower than usual to
hide…er…the…marks. The bruises.”

Jesse’s eyes flared and he made a tiny noise.

“The bruises come from mutual agreement and enjoyment for
them both, okay? My brother’s a Master, a sadist, actually, and she loves him
exactly the way he is. For that, I love her too, and I wanted to give her a
gown that made a statement, that proclaimed her as belonging to him, but also
provide them privacy because not everybody will understand. She wore it to a
charity event last month and was absolutely stunning. She even wore his collar
publicly. It was a huge step for my brother too.”

“Do you understand?” Now it was Jesse’s turn for his voice
to quiver. Eyes soft as though he daydreamed, he stroked his fingers
unconsciously on his throat. “I mean, you must, or you wouldn’t have created
such a meaningful gown just for her.”

“I do, but I guess I try not to think about it.” Vicki
studied the dress, because that was easier than staring into his piercing eyes
and feeling that pull again. She’d been afraid that he’d be creeped out by her
family skeletons in the closet, but instead she might have accidentally turned
him on. “My brother is heavily involved in the S&M community, and he
invited me to come to events before. I don’t know why he’s expecting me to
come, so I laugh and blow him off. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you all
this.”

Instead of being offended, Jesse laughed softly. “I’m glad,
Vicki. Everybody needs someone to talk to. Sometimes I missed that more than a
roof over my head.”

Lying awake at night, worrying about Elias out on the
streets, getting shot at by drug runners, she’d known the horrors of
loneliness. “I can,” she whispered on a soft sigh. “These past few months have
been hard, much harder than I imagined. I can’t tell you how nice it is to have
someone to bounce ideas off.”

“So tell me about this one.” Jesse shifted the conversation
back to safer ground, for which she was extremely grateful.

She walked him through all the completed outfits, ranging in
color from the red-silk gown to a sleek black pantsuit and a zebra-striped
dress that she absolutely adored. Paired with a conservative black cashmere
jacket, she would have worn it to the office without hesitation, but without
the coat, it would have been perfect for dinner at any five-star restaurant.

“I think I see the problem.” He stepped back to look at the
outfits together. “Speaking as an artist, there’s no softness in your color
palette. You have brilliant red, pure white, and somber black. You have a few
pieces in gray to help relieve the bolder colors, but overall it’s so…so…”

“Conservative.” She blew out her breath. “Yeah, I think I
see what you mean.”

“You need an accent, something that’s a surprise. It doesn’t
have to be much. Just a touch of softness in an unexpected color.”

“A new color.” She mused out loud, tapping her finger
against her lips. “Then I make the final signature piece in the new color, with
small touches to tie it all together. I think I can make it work.”

She led the way to the storage area. Long, tall shelves
lined the wall, deep enough to hold bolts of fabric. Some she’d bought because
they were a good price, others because she’d liked the pattern or color. Long
before she’d ever thought to quit her job and start her own line, she’d been
collecting fabric. She’d bought this building years ago because it was big
enough to house her collection. A harmless hobby, she’d told herself as she
bought yet another bolt of material. Yet every day she’d gone to work,
something small and fragile in her heart had ached to burst into flight.

“If it’s the signature piece, then you’ll be wearing it.
Does that help you choose a color?”

Surprised, she paused a moment. Colors swirled in her mind’s
eye, all shades, all hues, dizzying and overwhelming. “I never thought about
what I would wear.”

“You’re the most important one!
You
should wear the
signature piece. It’s a formal event, right?”

“A gala fundraiser hosted by the City of Dallas, with a
fashion show featuring a total of five designers. Each of us is donating pieces
to auction off. I don’t expect my pieces to bring much for the fundraiser—I’m
just hoping to get some buzz about my new line.” The more she thought about it,
the more she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. She’d never once thought
about what she would wear, the designer, the billboard for her line. “Okay,
okay, you’ve saved me from making a horrible mistake. I need an evening gown,
definitely, and it needs to be the showstopper.”

Her stomach churned and a stress headache threatened. “I
don’t have much time to pull this off, because now I need two new pieces, not
one. I don’t even have the design yet, or the fabric, and Miriam still has to
hem…”

Stepping up behind her, he closed his palms on her arms,
which stilled her frantic thoughts. He didn’t press against her, but his
closeness made the nerves hum up and down her spine. “First, color. Something
unexpected, but you can still mix with the others.”

“It has to be a color that I’ll look decent in.”

He let out a low, husky laugh against her ear that sent the
southern half of her body on full alert. Oh God, now it was her turn to feel
ashamed at her ravenous hunger. She was lucky her stomach didn’t rumble as
loudly as his had at breakfast. Starved and so damned needy, it took all her
willpower not to turn around and haul his mouth down to hers.

“You’ll look gorgeous in any color. Do you have a favorite
color, something that’s meaningful to you?”

She had to clear her throat. “No.”

“Any color will go with black, white and gray. How about
green to complement the red?”

Closing her eyes, she fought not to lean back and rub her
entire body against him. She hadn’t been held, touched, in months.
That’s
all this is. A night with Elias, and I’ll forget this insane need.
“Too
Christmassy.”