Embraced (5 page)

Someone was in the house.

Marey jerked up in bed later that night,
terrified as she heard the sound downstairs. What the hell was it? Why hadn’t
her alarm gone off?

There it was again. She blinked in the
darkness. Was that a whistle? She stared into the dark bedroom, her heart
racing, the sound echoing in her ears as she fought to wake up, to make sense
of the sudden panic ripping through her again.

The new alarm system was supposed to be
foolproof. Alerting the police and sounding a wail that would raise the dead if
the house was breached. Evidently, it wasn’t as secure as the salesman had
promised her.

There it was again. It was a whistle. And
she knew that sound. The grating little tune was one Vince was fond of. He
would sound it for hours at a time, working himself into a rage as he did so.
It always heralded another accusation, another rage, and in those final weeks
of their marriage, another physical blow against her.

Shit. She jumped from the bed, jerking her
robe on as she grabbed her cell phone from the bed and punched in the sheriff’s
number. This was insane. How the hell had he managed to get through the alarm
and into the house? And why was he being so stupid?

“Sheriff’s office.” The dispatcher answered
on the first ring.

“Janey, it’s Marey Dumont,” she snapped,
her voice low. “Vince has broken into the house.”

She had gone to school with Janey, knew her
husband and her kids. None of them liked Vince. Not that she could blame them.

“Stay with me, Marey, I’ll get someone on
the way out there.”

Marey listened as Janey’s voice became more
distant, imperative, as she called in the report.

“I have a car on the way, Marey,” she came
back, her voice calm, cool. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, honey,
till they get there. You say the alarm didn’t go off?”

“Not a peep,” she whispered. “I just
happened to wake up when he made a sound downstairs. I don’t know how he got
through.”

It didn’t make sense. Vince wasn’t the
brightest light in the house, and electronically, his skills were nil. He would
have needed the code to the gates as well as the door.

There was a crash downstairs.

“You fucking whore!” Vince screamed from
the bottom of the stairs then, as something else could be heard shattering
against a wall. Dammit, he was breaking her vases, she thought miserably. She
had paid a lot of money for those damned things. Her insurance company was
going to scream.

“Shit. Janey, tell them to put some lead on
the gas,” she breathed out harshly. “He’s drunk and he’s pissed. How the hell
did he get past my alarm?”

She moved quickly to the bedroom door,
locking it before pushing the large, wing-backed chair over to it, and tilting
it until the back was forced beneath the brass knob. It was the only security
she could think of. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she was buying a gun.

“They’ll be there fast, Marey, just stay
calm,” Janey assured her quietly. “I want you to stay back from the door. Hide
in the bathroom and lock the door there. Get as far away from him as you can
until help arrives.”

She could hear her voice fade as Janey
turned to the radio and called in to report to whoever was headed to the house.

She stood indecisively in the middle of the
bedroom, staring around it in regret. She couldn’t stay here. Vince was
evidently insane. First the attack at the motel and now this. She couldn’t, she
wouldn’t live this way.

“I’ll kill you this time, you fucking
bitch.” He was at the door, his fists hammering on the door as Marey began to
tremble nervously. “What makes you think you can whore around on me? I’ll kill
you for even thinking of letting another man touch you. You fucking slut.
You’re a dead woman!”

Enraged, almost incoherent, his curses
slammed into her, making her stomach knot in fear as she bit her lip to hold
back the cry of rage that built in her throat. They had been divorced for
years, and she had been careful. Very careful to make certain he had no reason
to torment her as he had that first year after their split.

His fists hammered into the door again,
shaking the panel. He was a brute of a man. The door was heavy but she had no
doubt he would get through it.

“Janey, this is getting serious,” she
breathed out, her voice shaking as she moved to the bathroom and locked the
door there as well. There were no chairs to place against the door, nothing to
hold him back. “These doors won’t keep him out.”

“Two minutes, Marey,” Janey promised her
calmly. “You can hold on two minutes. Get a can of hairspray, anything harsh.
If he makes it past the doorway, spray his eyes full. Do whatever you have to.
Sheriff Richards and Deputy Carlson are almost there. You’ll hear the sirens
soon and so will he. Maybe it will run him off.”

She was right. Seconds later the sound of
sirens wailing in the distance could be heard. Relief poured through her as tears
filled her eyes. Her nerves clashed as she felt the jolt of Vince throwing
himself against the door.

“The gates are locked,” Marey told Janey,
moving along the wall as she heard him crash into the door again. “The code is
six, four, eight, three, two, nine. That’s going to delay them.”

Janey relayed the code to the sheriff
before coming back.

“You hear them now?” The sirens were
growing louder.

“You fucking whore. You slut,” Vince
screamed then. “I’ll get you, bitch. When I do, I’ll kill you. That damned
sheriff won’t save you every time.”

The sound of running feet down the stairs
assured her he was leaving. Breathing a sigh of relief, she collapsed against
the wall, a tired, nervous little laugh escaping her throat as tears tightened
her chest.

“He’s gone,” she whispered then. “Janey,
he’s going to fucking kill me. What the hell am I going to do?”

The house was a mess.

Evidently Vince had found quite a few ways
to amuse himself before she woke up. Curses had been spelled out in lurid
detail in black and red permanent marker across the walls. Her living room
furniture was slashed, vases and heirloom glassware shattered. Some of the
items Marey knew she would never be able to replace.

She stared around at the destruction,
dressed in jeans and a sweater to ward off the chill that filled her body as
the sheriff and his deputy filled out their reports and called the security
company. Within hours, the house was filled with people, and all Marey could do
was stand and stare around in confusion at the mess her ex-husband had made.

“You need to find a hotel, or stay with a
friend for a few days, Marey.” Sheriff Richards stepped around the mess in the
entry hall as he moved from the living room. “The security system is intact,
but he obviously has the codes. You’re not safe here.”

Duh. No shit.

Marey kept the sarcastic comment to herself
as she stared back at the sheriff.

“What are you going to do about him?” she
asked him carefully. “They let him out on bail. He could terrorize me further,
Sheriff. Now what the hell are you going to do about it?”

He sighed roughly, propped his hands on his
hips and shook his head. As handsome as the man was, right now, she wanted to
kick his teeth in. He was being of no help whatsoever.

“We’ll pick him up. He’s violated the terms
of his release, so the bail will be revoked. But until we catch him, you’re not
safe.”

“She will be.”

Marey froze at the dark, dangerous voice
behind her. She turned slowly toward the open front door and stared back at Sax
Brogan with a sense of fatal resignation.

Now, why hadn’t she guessed he was going to
show up?

A man shouldn’t be so sinfully sexy, she
thought. He shouldn’t steal a woman’s last breath with a frown, or make her
knees weak from one of those hot little looks from dark, chocolate brown eyes.
And he sure as hell shouldn’t make her pussy burn in the middle of a situation
that was precarious to say the least.

“Hello, Sax, it’s good to see you again.”
Sheriff Richards nodded back at him as Sax stepped into the house. “I hope
you’re going to convince her to get out of here until we pick up Vince. She’s
getting a bit testy on me.” He cast her an amused look.

Marey frowned back at him.

“I am neither testy, nor a child, Sheriff,”
she snapped. “And I don’t need a man to take care of me. I can make decisions
fine on my own.”

She hated it when men acted as though a
woman was only safe if she had a man in front of her. In Sax’s case, if things
went the way he wanted, she would have one behind her as well.

“Of course you can.” The sheriff nodded.
“Which means you’re going to take my advice and get the hell out of here until
I let you know we’ve caught Vince Clayton. Aren’t you, Marey?”

Why did men always think
they
were
right and she was wrong?

“Pack some clothes, Marey,” Sax said
easily, though she read the tense readiness in his body. “I’ll take you to
Terrie or Ella’s, but you are getting out of here. If I have to carry you out.”

His dark face was set in lines of
determination and resolve. Marey glanced away, knowing that if she left with
him, he wouldn’t leave her anywhere else. She would be going to his house. His
bed.

She glanced back at him knowing she was
losing a battle she didn’t really want to fight any longer. She had set this in
motion when she made that trip to the motel, when she had let her desires and
her needs overcome her common sense. She had no one else to blame but herself.

“Go on, Marey,” the sheriff urged her. “We
have an APB out on Vince, we’ll have him in custody soon. Until then, protect
yourself. Get the hell away from the house.”

Like she had a choice at this point? She
was well aware of the fact that she couldn’t stay at the house, and she wasn’t
endangering her friends either.

Gritting her teeth in fury, she slanted Sax
a fulminating look as she turned and stalked to the curved staircase.

“You’re taking me to a hotel,” she snapped,
though she was careful to keep her back to him. “No questions, no alternatives.
A hotel.”

“Whatever you want, Marey,” he called back,
his voice carefully neutral.

Pausing, she turned back to look at him.

His expression was pure sin, sex in its
most undiluted form. His dark eyes gleamed with it, his expression was filled
with it. She was so fucked. Unfortunately, she had a feeling she was going to
enjoy it. Too much.

She knew he wouldn’t do as she asked. How
had she known? She was psychic, she sneered to herself. She had known because
she knew Sax Brogan. Three years before, he had claimed her with no more than a
kiss. A dark, sultry earth-shattering kiss that had filled her senses with visions
of hot, carnal delights and her mind with her own screams of lusty need.

She had held him off with a simple request.
A plea. And for years he had abided by it. Until the day he was arrested
because she was attacked during a meeting that she thought would involve him.
She had known when she stepped into that motel room that she had made a grave,
tactical error. Not only was she losing the battle with Vince, but she had
known, if she survived, she would lose another, much more personal battle, with
Sax.

He didn’t say a word after loading her
large suitcase into the back of his Lexus and helping her into the passenger
side. He had loped around the car, got into the driver’s seat, put the car in
gear and driven away from her home. Straight to his. A beautiful two-story
contemporary home on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by trees on two
sides and the haunting melody of the ocean on the other. It was as rugged and
strong as he was.

And she had kept her mouth shut. She hadn’t
demanded he drive to the hotel. She had sat in the car, silent, watching the
night pass by as her pussy grew wetter by the second.

“Nice place.” She finally found the courage
to speak as he closed and locked the door behind them. The room they stepped
into was huge. There was no entryway, just a large, open ceiling living room
that was roomy and comfortable and at the same time as enduring as she had
always thought Sax was.

“It’s home. The bedroom is up here.” He led
her to the double doorway, stepping into a short hall with a tall, oak staircase
that led to the upper landing.

Like the living room, the hallway had an
open ceiling allowing her to glimpse the railed hall above. She followed him up
the stairs silently, her heart thundering in her chest, knowing she wouldn’t,
couldn’t fight him any longer.

The bedroom he led her into was obviously
his. The stark masculine furniture, a huge king-sized bed, tall, wide dresser
and a low, mirrored chest. One wall was open, with a sturdy railing and a view
of the living room. Beside it was a computer desk, the computer sitting atop it
was still running, the last instant message he had received still displayed.

From Wicked,
Janey just called Tally.
Vince hit the house. Get there now!

“Well, so much for confidentiality,” she
remarked as she stared at the screen. “I thought dispatchers were sworn to
secrecy or something?”

He moved to the computer and flipped off
the screen with a snap before turning away from her and tossing her suitcase on
the low chaise lounge that sat in front of the doors of the upper deck.

“You can put your stuff wherever you can
find room,” he told her dispassionately. “We’ll go after the rest of your
clothes tomorrow.”

“Will we?” she murmured. “You and whose
army?”

She faced him fully then, aware of the
tension whipping between them.

He shrugged out of his jacket as he turned
to her, tossing it over her suitcase. He stared back at her, his gaze vividly
hot as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.

“I don’t need an army, Marey.” His lips
pulled back from his teeth in an elemental snarl. “Stop baiting me. You know
you’re going to be here, at least for a while. Why not stop fighting it, and
me, and we’ll see where the hell this thing is going.”

She drew in a short, quick breath.

“It shouldn’t go anywhere,” she snapped
back. “Vince is insane, Sax. Do you enjoy placing yourself in danger?”

“The most danger I intend to face is that
hot little pussy creaming between your thighs,” he snarled back, jerking the
shirt from his broad shoulders as his words left her knees trembling.

If her pussy hadn’t been creaming before,
it was now. Thick and hot, the juices seared the sensitive folds as her clit
began to throb in an erratic, erotic rhythm. Her breasts became swollen, her
nipples poking against her sweater, and she was certain every inch of her body
was flushed from the heat rising inside her.

“Well, you’re as direct as always.” She
crossed her arms over her breasts, facing him with a frown.

“I’ve learned to be, with you.” His hands
went to the waistband of his slacks, his fingers loosening the clasp of his
belt with a rough movement.

“Sax.” She swallowed tightly as the belt
opened and his hands worked at the fastening. “Slow down.”

He paused, staring back at her with hungry
demand.

“I heeded that plea three years ago,” he
said coldly. “I won’t this time, Marey. The time for games is long past.”

But he didn’t remove his pants. He came
toward her instead, towering over her, making her feel weak, helpless. But
protected. For such a large man, Sax had a way of turning her inside out and
making her feel more feminine than any other man ever had.

“Look at you,” he sighed as he came abreast
of her, staring down at her with sensual demand. “So small and perfect, your
eyes darkening with arousal. Every time you look at me, I watch that, watch
your eyes get dark and hungry for me. Do you know how hard that’s been to
resist? How much I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder and take you away
someplace where objections don’t exist? Where the world disappears around us
and there’s nothing but me and you?”

Oh, now that really wasn’t fair. She felt
the breath suspend in her lungs as her womb convulsed in longing. To hear that
sexy, deep voice saying something so wickedly hot that it had her trembling in
need.

How long had it been since she had known a
man’s touch? Three years since Sax’s kiss. Years before that. She had held
herself aloof, no matter the loneliness or the sense of isolation. It had been
easier to deal with the deprivation than the rages she knew Vince was capable
of.

She stared up at him, helpless, weak with
the needs thundering through her as he reached out, his hands gripping the hem
of her sweater.

“I’m going to taste every inch of your
body,” he whispered as he drew the material over her midriff. “I’m going to eat
you like candy, Marey, and listen to you scream for more.”

He was going to have her screaming for more
before he even got her shirt off at this rate.

“Sax.” Her hands fluttered helplessly as
the sweater cleared her swollen, unbound breasts.

No bra. She hadn’t had time for one.

“Hell, I could come in my pants just
looking at you, Marey,” he sighed as his hand gripped first one wrist then the
other, lifting her arms so he could pull the sweater over her head.

She was bare to him now, her breasts
heaving, her nipples aching in response to the heated look in his eyes. His
hands smoothed down her uplifted arms, drawing them down until her hands rested
on his broad shoulders.

She trembled, shuddered in driving response
as his hands lowered, cupping her full breasts, lifting them in his palms as
his thumbs and forefingers tweaked the tender, responsive nipples.

She arched, gasping for breath as heat
struck from the hard tips to the center of her womb. Her pussy rippled, the
slick juices flowing in a rich stream to coat and prepare her for his
penetration.

“Take my shirt off,” he whispered. “Come
on, baby. Show me you need this as much as I do.”

She stared up at him nervously.

“I’m…” She licked her lips in hesitation.
“I’m not good at this, Sax.”

Her fingers flexed against his chest as she
stared up at him, imploring. Vince hadn’t been her first lover, but his abuse
had all but destroyed her confidence. She was terrified of disappointing him.

Shame coursed through her. She had known it
would be like this. He would expect her to participate, to know what to do, to
know how to love him in turn. Her throat thickened with rage and tears as she
realized she didn’t know, had no idea how to touch him, how to pleasure him.

“It has nothing to do with how good you are
at something, Marey.” His voice was dark, deep, as he shrugged the shirt from
his shoulders, her fingers touching impossibly warm teak flesh then.

She trembled at the feel of him. Strong and
heated, the muscles of his chest bunching beneath her touch as her lips moved
along his chest.

“Just touch me,” he crooned gently, weaving
a spell of sensuality around her that was impossible to resist. “I’ve dreamed
of it, your hands on my flesh, your lips, your tongue, touching and stroking me
with your hunger. Show me how hungry you are for me.”

Hungry? She was starved. She could feel her
hand soaking in the feel of him, sending the sensation to parts of her body
that shouldn’t even be considered erogenous zones.

As she stared up him, she licked her lips,
her gaze centering on his. Perfectly, sensually full, they looked warm,
inviting. She needed his kiss. She whimpered with the need, suddenly
overwhelmed with the thought of touching and being touched. God, she needed him
to touch her. Just a kiss. One small, light touch of his lips…

His head lowered, but there was nothing
light in the possession he took of her. He groaned, a rough, desperate sound as
his lips covered hers, his tongue stroking against the seam until she parted
for him, gave him permission to raid the warm depths of her mouth.

One arm went around her, clasping her to
him as her hand roamed over his chest, his steel-hard abdomen. He might work at
a desk, but his body was in perfect shape, muscular and hard. So hard.

She moved against him, feeling the wedge of
his cock behind his slacks, against her lower stomach. She trembled, pressing
closer, her head falling back in surrender, her body sliding against his as her
tongue reached out timidly to his.

Racing, desperate, clawing lust bit into
her with a demon’s razor-sharp bite. She arched, sizzling heat blooming in her
belly and streaking to her clit, her pussy, her engorged breasts. Out of
control, her hands slid up his chest, his strong neck, gripping the back of his
head as his hands arched her closer, lifting her until he could grind the thick
erection against the pad of her cunt.

She cried out, shaking in the grip of an
arousal she had never known before. Never, even in the darkest dark, when
dreams so erotic, so sensual attacked her, had she known such a powerful,
driving need as what she felt now.

“Easy, sweetheart.” His lips moved from
hers, his hands holding her still when she would have followed, would have
begged for more.

When he refused the caress, her lips moved
to his chest. Sleek, tough skin over powerful muscles. Her tongue stroked over
the dark flesh, her hands moving from his head to his abdomen. She wanted him
naked, wanted him hot and blistering with desire as she was. It was killing
her, the sudden, powerful sensations sweeping through her.

“There you go, baby.” His deep, crooning
voice urged her in her madness.

And it was madness. She was setting herself
up for a fall, a small weak portion of her mind warned her. This was
destruction. It was a fall from which there would be no recovering.

Her lips moved to his abdomen, close, so
close to the opened waistband of his pants. And beyond. Beyond lay the object
of her desperation.

She nipped at his tight flesh as his
fingers threaded in her hair.

“Loosen my pants, Marey. Release my cock,
baby. I’m dying to feel your hands on me. Soft, silken hands. Do you know how
often I’ve dreamed of watching your hands stroke me?”

She could feel the pressure burning in her
clit as he urged her on.

Her hands trembled, fumbled with the tab of
his zipper, but finally managed to work it over the straining erection. She
heard him moan as her fingers brushed the tightly stretched cotton of his boxer
briefs as her eyes opened, widened as she glimpsed the impressive length of him
beneath the material.

His fingers tightened in her hair.

“Do it, baby,” he growled, his voice
resonating with the same painful hunger whipping through her body. “Release my
cock. Touch me, before I go crazy here.”

She pulled the elastic waistband down,
pushing at it as it cleared his thighs, freeing the dark length of his erection
to her touch. She touched him timidly, amazed at the feeling of satin warmth,
and beneath it, iron-hard strength. Thick veins ridged the length of his cock
as the pulse of blood pounded at the flesh.

The head was flared, a perfect mushroom
shape designed for pleasure, damp with pre-come and throbbing imperatively.
Closing her eyes, Marey allowed her tongue to peek out, to wash over the crest,
tasting the salty male essence of him as he moaned roughly.

“There you go.” His breathing was rough,
his voice deeper. “Let me feel that soft little tongue. Do you know it feels
like hot silk?”

She licked over the head again, moaning
herself at the taste of him. She wanted him, wanted more, she wanted to consume
him.