Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Waking up slowly, Brynn stretched her arms. She was lying in a huge, plush bed covered by white covers, sunlight seeping around the edges of the curtains. She reached a hand out and her heart clenched. The space beside her was empty.
Frowning, she sat up. There was no indent on Vander’s pillow.
She’d slept alone.
Hurt was a small kernel in her chest. No doubt, Vander had prowled around, and sat in the darkness with his demons.
She pushed her tangled hair back. She was so angry at him. Angry at him for shutting her out. She knew he was worried, afraid about the baby, afraid of being a father.
But he wasn’t alone.
Determination filtered through her. The same determination she’d felt when she’d first realized she was in love with him.
In love with a dark, dangerous, closed-off man who’d been determined to never let anyone close.
She’d worked hard to claim the stubborn former Ghost Ops soldier as hers. He’d fought her every step of the way.
Until finally, he’d admitted that he loved her.
She slipped out of bed, and pulled on a white-silk robe that matched her tiny nightgown, the fabric silky smooth on her skin. She’d bought it, excited for her husband to yank it off her.
She belted the robe and made a quick trip to the bathroom. After she brushed her teeth and tamed her hair, she went in search of her hard-headed husband.
The large kitchen was empty, as was the living room. The French doors were open. She glanced outside, but didn’t spot her broody husband.
Then she walked down the hall toward the room used as a library.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with books—both old and new—and big leather chairs offered a cozy spot to read.
An arched window offered a glimpse of the green gardens before it gave way to the brilliant blue sea.
There was a wooden table, surrounded by more leather chairs, and even a brass telescope, for watching the luxury yachts passing by.
And of course, she found her husband there.
He was sitting in one of the burgundy leather chairs, still and silent.
Instantly, his gaze flicked up and locked on her. It was impossible to sneak up on him.
He’d changed at some point and wore a black T-shirt and jeans. His black hair looked ruffled by the wind or his hand sliding through it.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
That anger welled again. She wanted him to talk to her, open up to her. She hated feeling this wall between them.
She walked closer. “You’re not fine. Talk to me, Vander. Don’t push me away.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
She pressed a hand to the back of her neck. “I fought too hard for you. I’m not going to let you ice me out now.”
He rose in a fast, lethal move. “I said I’m fine.”
“You didn’t come to bed. You left me alone.” She walked up to him and poked him in his hard chest. “You’re mine, Vander Norcross. You sleep beside me, dammit. I know impending fatherhood is scary—”
He moved fast.
Her back hit the bookcase, his hard body pressed flush against her front. His hand moved up and gripped her throat. He was careful and his grip was firm but not tight. He was always aware of his strength.
His dark-blue eyes looked like darkest midnight.
“You knew who I was.” His voice was low, deep. “I warned you what would happen if I let myself love you.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. “Vander—”
He leaned down and ran his nose along the side of hers. She felt his warm breath on her cheek.
“I warned you that once I claimed you, you were mine. Forever. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, Brynn. I’ll fight, I’ll kill, I’ll burn the world down.”
Her chest swelled. The force of his love was something she never doubted. “I know you love me, and I love you. All of you. You don’t need to hide your worries, you don’t need to hide any pieces, you don’t need to be strong all the time.”
He stared at her for a beat, then his mouth crashed down on hers.
Brynn fought back a shot of disappointment that he wouldn’t talk with her, but as soon as his mouth moved over hers, desire exploded between them.
His tongue swept into her mouth, plundering, and she opened herself to it.
Her hands curled in his T-shirt, and she kissed him back, need and want twisting inside her.
His cock instantly hardened against her.
She pressed closer, her hands sliding up—over his hard pectorals, the strong cords of his neck, and into his thick, dark hair.
His arms locked around her and he lifted her off her feet.
“Don’t stop,” she panted.
“I have no plans to stop. You want me. You’ve got me.”
He crossed the library, and her ass hit the table. There was no restraint in his actions. He’d let the brakes off. His mouth was on hers again, the kiss hard and fierce.
She moaned, then felt his hands grab the silk of her nightgown. With one hard pull, he ripped it down the middle. She gasped, excitement arrowing through her.
“Brynn.” He cupped her breasts, thumbed her nipples. “You make me crazy.” His hot gaze stayed locked on her breasts. Then one strong hand slid between her thighs.
She cried out. He stroked her, and she was soaked for him.
Her man. Her mate.
He cursed, then fumbled to open his pants. “Need you.”
“Take me.”
In the next second, he shoved her thighs up and apart, then notched his cock in place. He surged home.
She loved him right here, filling her, connecting them. Here, they didn’t need words to communicate. Here, he was in every part of her.
With hard, brutal thrusts he took her. Her cries echoed off the walls. She canted her hips forward to meet him, tightening her thighs on his body.
She whispered his name, frantic arousal twisting inside her.
Then her climax hit. Her back arched, heat scalding her. She gripped his arms, her nails biting into his biceps. She moaned his name this time.
He thrust inside her, again and again, then stayed there, planted deep.
“Made for me,” he gritted out. “I can feel your pussy clutching me, milking me. It wipes everything clean.”
His words turned to a low snarl. He let himself go and poured himself inside her. Then he slumped against her, slapping a palm to the table to keep his weight off her.
Both of them were panting.
She pressed her face to his sweat-slick shoulder and felt their connection. Lazily, she noted the sunlight filtering in through the window, the dust motes hanging in the air, and the heavy thud of his heart.
But the passion and closeness faded. She felt him withdrawing from her, even though he was still inside her.
“Vander…”
He pulled back. “Did I hurt you?” His voice held an edge.
“No. Of course not.” He pulled free, and she quickly pulled the robe closed over her torn nightgown.
His face was like stone, unreadable, as he tucked himself away.
“Anyone home?” Rhys’ voice rang out from the living room. “Vander, are you ready to go?”
Vander zipped up his trousers. “I need to go. We’re due to meet Justin.”
A small flood of discomfort grew inside her chest. She didn’t want to leave it like this.
But he clearly needed space.
Maybe that would help? Instead of pushing, she’d give him some time and space. She needed to be understanding of whatever he was feeling.
Brynn slid off the table and moved to him. “I’ll see you when you get back.” She went up on her toes, and one of his hands clamped on her hip. She pressed a brief kiss to his lips. “I love you, Vander.”
With a nod, he pulled away. “I know.” Then he was gone.
She blinked. Her husband had just Han Soloed her.
She tipped her head back and stared blindly at the ceiling. Patience. She needed patience and understanding.
They’d come here to Italy for space and relaxation.
She straightened her spine. She’d won the heart of this magnificent man, her battle-scarred warrior. They’d get through whatever this was and come out the other side stronger.
Vander Norcross was hers. Every complicated inch of him. The light and the dark. Hers inside and out. She wouldn’t let him forget that.
“You okay?”
From the driver’s seat, Vander glanced at Rhys. “I’m fine.”
“You seem tense.”
“I’m fine,” he gritted through his teeth.
“Did you fight with Brynn?”
Vander took the corner fast. The Ferrari Purosangue SUV he’d rented handled well and the V12 engine growled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It helps to talk it out. Haven’s always telling me if I keep it bottled in, it’ll blow eventually.”
Vander swallowed a growl. “So people keep telling me. Repeatedly.”
“Ah. Brynn’s trying to dig into that locked-up-tighter-than-Fort-Knox psyche of yours. Let her. She’s your wife and she loves you.”
He fought the urge to punch his brother in his smiling, handsome face. “Can you drop it?”
“Okay. For now.” Rhys shifted in the leather seat. “So how far to Justin’s?”
“Not far.” They drove through the winding streets of Taormina. The town really was beautiful, but Vander wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the scenery. His thoughts were on Brynn.
He’d taken her hard, roughly. He could’ve hurt her. His hands flexed on the steering wheel. He was always well aware of how strong he was and that he’d been trained to kill in a lot of different ways.
He needed to get his head screwed on straight.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of a small house on the edge of town. It had buttery-yellow walls, brown shutters framing the windows, a terracotta tiled roof, and lemon trees in the front yard. There were pots of colorful flowers on the small porch.
A second later, a tall man stepped outside. Justin had red-brown hair and a beard to match, and by the looks of it, hadn’t gone soft since he’d left the military. He was all hardpacked muscle but built in a way that said he could run for hours if needed.
Vander exited the car, and a smile broke out on his friend’s face.
“Norcross. Damn glad to see you.” Justin jogged down the front steps.
The two men hugged, slapping each other’s backs.