Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Adrenaline from the fight flooded Cormac’s system. He could barely keep his focus on the road as he used the buttons on his steering wheel to make a call.
“Boss,” Elton said through the speakers.
“There was an incident at the shop,” Cormac clipped. “Should be on my dash cam. I want IDs on the two perps, and I want to know if any other cameras in the area caught the…altercation.”
“Altercation?”
“I’ll give you a full report in an hour. I’m driving my mother to the hospital, and then I’m going home. I want to know how much trouble we’re in by the time I get there.”
“Hospital?” Elton seemed incapable of doing anything but repeating Cormac’s words, which was making Cormac angrier than it should. The bloodlust from the fight was still riding him hard. He could still see the sneer on the bigger man’s face when he’d shifted his gaze to Lucy, when he’d threatened her.
Right in front of Cormac, the man had had the guts to warn her off. It made Cormac want to rip the steering wheel off and smash it through the window.
“I’m not going to the hospital,” his mother supplied from the back seat as Cormac ended the call. “I’m fine.”
“You drove a car through a plate-glass window.”
“The airbag didn’t even go off, Cormac. I’m fine .”
“That car was old enough not to have airbags installed. You’re going to the hospital.”
“I am not .”
“Mom,” Ruby interjected, entreating.
The fact that his sister was on his side for this meant he was definitely right. He took the turn to head for the hospital.
“I’m perfectly all right,” his mother repeated. “Take me home. I’ll even arm that stupid alarm.”
“I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“You are taking me home . I just watched my son beat the snot out of two men who were bigger than he was, and it scared the life out of me. I want my own couch and my own things. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
The steering wheel creaked as Cormac gripped it harder, and distantly, he was afraid he’d snap it in half. Beside him, Lucy sat silently. As he rolled to a stop at a red light, he stole a glance in the rearview to see his mother sitting with her arms crossed, a mulish expression on her face. Then he glanced over at Lucy, who was busy gnawing on her bottom lip.
“I’ll go home with her,” Ruby said quietly, caving.
Cormac huffed but kept driving toward the hospital. He glanced at Lucy. “Your parents have a security system at home?”
Wide-eyed, she met his gaze. “What?”
“Do they have a security system?”
“No. Mom, Dad, you don’t have a security system, right?”
“Why on earth would we have that?” Dolly replied, as if she hadn’t just admitted to antagonizing the man who’d terrorized her daughter.
If he took her and Gus home, they’d be vulnerable.
His jaw ached, and he realized he was grinding his teeth.
Cormac wrenched the steering wheel and turned the car around. He was sick of making decisions based on the desires of irrational people, but what choice did he have? If he took his mother to the hospital, he’d have to take the Barlows to the safe room at the office. It was Sunday, which meant he’d have to stay there. And what he really wanted to do was take Lucy home so he could go through everything that had happened and figure out how to stop the madman with a vendetta against her.
When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “I’m taking you all back to my mother’s house. Mom, you will arm the alarm. You will keep the doors and windows locked. I’ll send one of our guys to keep watch.”
The best thing he could do to keep all these people safe was have them in one secure location where he could watch over them. At least until he could figure out who those two guys were and why they had attacked.
One thing was for certain: Aaron Phillips wasn’t in the wedding stationery business. Something else was going on.
“Meaty said ‘the Phillips,’” Lucy said in the silence that settled in the car.
Cormac frowned. “What?”
“That big guy’s message. He said it was from ‘ the Phillips,’ implying there’s more than one.”
Cormac hadn’t caught that. He’d been too focused on quelling the urge to kill the man who’d threatened Lucy and the rest of his family. His ability to reason had been low when the big man—Meaty—had spoken.
“A family,” Cormac said.
Lucy nodded. “Does he have any siblings?”
“Nothing came up in his background check. I’ll get Elton to dig deeper.”
By the time he made it to his mother’s house, the sweat that had beaded on Cormac’s body during the fight had cooled to a clammy coating on his skin. He parked the vehicle in the garage and herded everyone inside, making sure the alarm was set properly while his mother made for the kitchen to play host for all her unexpected guests.
He turned to see Gus watching him, a frown drawing the older man’s brows low over his eyes. Lucy’s eyes, Cormac realized. Warm brown and kind.
“You were telling the truth back there?” Gus asked quietly.
“Sorry?”
“You’ll take care of my little girl until this is over?”
Cormac’s heart punched against his ribs. His throat constricted as he dipped his chin. “Yes,” he said, even though what he wanted to say was that he’d take care of her long after this was over. If she let him, Cormac would take care of Lucy for the rest of his life.
But that wasn’t true. Lucy was a client, and this situation had spiraled. He needed to get his feet on solid ground before he could make any sort of pronouncement about him and Lucy. Having yet another person to protect was too much to bear. Cormac couldn’t do it.
Today was proof. He’d let himself go along with their families’ crazy plans, and it had ended in disaster. Someone could have been seriously hurt. His mother, his sister… Lucy could have been hurt. That thought sent another wave of adrenaline tightening his muscles.
He’d fight until he was bloody and broken to stop that from happening.
“I’ll take care of her,” he finally said. Gus nodded, then extended his hand. They shook, and Cormac’s vow was set in stone.
Lucy appeared at the top of the three steps that separated the foyer from the living room level. She arched her brows. “Vicky wants to know if you two want sandwiches. She’s making turkey club.”
“No,” Cormac said. “You and I need to head home and talk about everything that happened today. We need to call the detectives on your case and report it too,” he added, almost as an afterthought. An old wound pulsed in the pit of his stomach.
The police had been useless all those years ago, in this very house. They hadn’t done their jobs, and Cormac had never really regained full trust in their abilities.
But he wasn’t an eleven-year-old boy anymore, and he had to maintain a good relationship with the force for his business to succeed. Logically, he knew that they were good people who only wanted to serve the population of Stirling.
But at that moment, standing in the house where that trust had first been damaged, logic was far, far away. Cormac wanted to take this fight on himself, pummel Aaron Phillips into the ground, and make sure he and his goons were nowhere near the people he cared about.
He forced his voice to quiet, though the need to rage still fanned the flames in his gut. “The longer we stay here, the bigger the target we put on our families’ backs.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Gus went up the three steps and put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “You listen to Cormac,” he said. “And stay safe. This will all be over soon.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, pumpkin.” He kissed her forehead, turned to nod at Cormac, then ambled to the kitchen.
The sounds of lively conversation and overloud laughter resonated from the other room as Lucy and Cormac stared at each other. He knew their families needed to vent their stress, and they’d do it over food and conversation and laughter. They’d be safe here. Cormac had already called one of his men to stand watch.
Cormac needed to vent his stress too, but being around so many boisterous voices wouldn’t help. He extended his hand toward Lucy without a word.
Her eyes followed the movement, and she descended the steps without hesitation. Her palm slid against his, and it felt like a key fitting into a lock. He curled his fingers around her warm, soft skin, and a slow sigh slipped through his lips.
“Let’s go home,” he said, and Lucy nodded.
Lucy felt the weight of fear lift from her shoulders as soon as Cormac latched the final lock to ensconce them in his citadel of safety. Yesterday, she hadn’t realized how much she appreciated being in his home, where she knew she was protected.
That wasn’t something she was used to. She’d been on her own for so long, in her run-down apartment that she’d worked hard to make a home. She’d gotten used to the ear she always kept open to unfamiliar sounds. A creak in the stairwell made her pause. A shout on the street made her glance at her door to make sure she’d locked it.
It wasn’t until she was truly, utterly secure in Cormac’s home that she realized how good it felt to be safe.
Cormac touched the keypad by the door to get the shutters up and deal with the beeping alarm warning them that it was about to go off, and she noticed that the tension in his body didn’t drain the way it had from hers. The muscles in his neck were stark, and he held himself straight and stiff. His nostrils flared as he breathed a little heavier than needed, the blood on the side of his face beginning to dry and flake.
“I’ll make us some food as soon as I’m cleaned up,” he told her, not meeting her eyes as he curled an arm around her back to lead her inside.
Princess Snowball yowled by her food bowl, then came closer to wind herself around their legs. Cormac reached down to scratch her ears, but still, the tension in his upper shoulders and neck didn’t ease.
Lucy moved before she knew what she was doing. She touched his shoulder, and Cormac went utterly still. With a delicate touch, Lucy ran her fingers up his neck to tilt his head toward the light.
“Let me clean this up for you,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“I’ll shower and it’ll be fine.”
“You might need stitches.”
“It’s fine,” he repeated.
Lucy gave him a flat look. “At least we know where you got your stubborn streak.”
He must’ve realized he sounded exactly like his mother, because he huffed a breath and tilted his head toward his room. “I’ve got a first aid kit under the sink. But it looks worse than it is. Head wounds bleed a lot.”
“You rushed in and saved us all earlier,” Lucy said, letting her hand slide down to his arm. “Let me look at your injuries for you.”
He nodded, fed his cat, and then aimed for the bedroom.
Padding across the apartment as the shutters stopped their ascent at the top of the windows, Cormac opened the door to his room and led her into the attached bathroom. Lucy glanced at the tidy bed, the sparse furnishings. Spartan, disciplined, spotless. Cormac always kept himself in check. But she’d seen the cold fury tightening the muscles of his body when those men had threatened them earlier. She’d seen the viciousness of his punches and the violence coiled in his muscles.
There was more to him than a neatly made bed and bare nightstands.
“Sit on the toilet lid,” she ordered, and Cormac obeyed. His jaw worked as he watched her root through the under-sink area, and she knew he was still riding the knife’s edge of his stress. She wanted to help him.
This big, strong man had rushed to her rescue. He’d entertained her kooky parents. He’d helped his mother and endured his sister’s taunts.
He was loving . Under the gruff exterior, there was a deep well of kindness and generosity.
He didn’t have to bring her back here. Hell, he didn’t even need to speak to her at all. Their contract was done. She wasn’t paying him for his services anymore.
But he was here, and his head was bleeding because of Lucy. In a small way, she wanted to show him that she appreciated him. She understood what it cost him to be the protector.
When she had the first aid kit open on the edge of the sink, she wetted a washcloth with warm water and approached him. It was like approaching a wounded wild beast. Tension thrummed in the space between them as he watched her, wary.
Moving slowly like she would to keep an animal from spooking, she used the tips of her fingers to tilt his head to the side and started slowly dabbing at the blood caked into his pores. Standing between his spread legs, she could feel the warmth of his body, could sense the way he held himself utterly still.
Would she say no to another kiss? Of course she wouldn’t. After seeing what he’d done for her outside Phillipses’ store, Lucy would climb into bed with this man without hesitation. He’d done something for her that no one else ever had—protected her, defended her, supported her. He believed in her abilities, and he’d made her want to act . She wasn’t content to be a wallflower when Cormac was around.
But he was the one who’d recoiled after their last kiss, so she wasn’t going to go there again. If all he’d let her do was clean up his wounds and bandage him up after he’d saved her, that was all she’d do, and she’d be grateful for it.
As she dabbed at his skin, the tension in Cormac’s body eased. A long breath warmed her wrist as he exhaled, closing his eyes as he submitted to her ministrations. It soothed something in the depths of Lucy’s heart to see him relax. It felt like she’d done something right.
“There,” she said quietly, wiping his temple. “Let me wet the washcloth again.”
She felt his eyes on her as she moved out of the notch of his legs and bent over the sink. The water ran pink as she rinsed the cloth, then clear, though the cloth remained stained. She wrung it out and approached him again.
This time, he tilted his head without needing her to ask, and when she stepped between his legs, his hands slid behind her knees. When his thumbs began to make slow sweeps along the outsides of her thighs, Lucy had to force herself to focus on the job at hand.
His hair was matted with blood, and as his hands slid up a couple of inches to the backs of her thighs, she saw the blood already congealing above his ear. She was no expert, but it didn’t look like he’d need a stitch.
His palms were warm, even through her clothing, and the movement of his thumbs was making her dizzy.
“You should be careful when you shower,” she said, surprised to find her voice was steady, “but the cut is small. It should be fine.”
A rumble passed through Cormac’s chest in response. His hands didn’t move from her thighs, so she kept dabbing at his skin. There was a bit of blood on his ear, which she cleaned, but soon, her work was done.
Neither of them moved.
She studied the cut, her other hand resting on Cormac’s shoulder. His body was still tense, but there was a softness to him now. She could feel his muscles shift as he slowly, gently stroked the backs of her thighs. The washcloth had gone cold, so she tossed it into the sink and placed both hands on his shoulders.
“Lucy,” he rasped.
It took all her courage to drag her gaze to meet his. What she saw was heat, and need, and pain. The look in his eyes speared through her, stilling every part of her body except for her thumping heart.
The seconds stretched. Lucy couldn’t look away from that darkness in his eyes. She wanted to revel in the heat, slake his need, share his pain. She wanted everything with him.
He must have read her mind, because the next words he spoke were, “Come here,” as he cupped one hand around the back of her neck and dragged her mouth down to his.
Lucy was powerless to resist. She wove the fingers of both hands through the strands of his hair and kissed him. She gasped as he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, melted at the slight pressure of his hand on her thigh.
All of a sudden, she was straddling him, every hard inch. She could feel the heat and hardness of his arousal against her core. Her mind went blank. Cormac’s arms banded around her to hold her close as his mouth systematically destroyed every scrap of defense she could have erected against him.
He tasted like danger and fire and need. She moaned against his lips as he plundered her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers, his stubble abrading her skin. He gripped her jaw and held her head to the side so he could lave his tongue over the point of her pulse.
“Tell me to stop,” he told her, his voice almost unrecognizable. “Tell me to stop this and I will.”
Her heart hammered. Her breaths were gasps. Her fingers dug into the strong, corded muscle of his back. “No,” she replied. “I won’t.”
The sound Cormac made in response was one Lucy had never heard from any man. It was feral, savage need. It was victory and defeat all rolled into one. It made her heart beat against her ribs like the wings of a trapped bird—and then he was lifting her onto her feet and crowding her against the shower glass at her back.
The coolness at her back was no match for the heat of Cormac’s body at her front. His hand cupped between her legs, possessive, needy. He ground the heel of his hand against her bud, and she gasped, head knocking against the glass.
Their eyes met. His were dark, with only the thinnest ring of blue on the edge of his blown-out pupil. He looked like a conquering hero, demanding his due. She spread her legs to give it to him.
“I’m going to fuck you, Lucy,” he informed her, hand grinding against her jeans. “Is that what you want?”
He sounded almost angry. He sounded like he wanted her to say no, to stop him.
But Lucy was way beyond any of that.
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes. Yes. Please. Now.”
He exhaled in a gust, curling his head into the crook of her neck. His hands trembled as they undid the button of her jeans and tugged the zipper down. When he slipped his palm against her bare skin, she couldn’t hold back a desperate moan.
“My girl is so fucking wet for me,” Cormac said, still in that rasping, savage voice that drove Lucy wild. His fingers slid through her folds and found her opening. His other hand wrapped around the back of her neck and tilted her head back so he could plunder her mouth once more. It was a kiss of teeth and tongues and intensity.
Lucy had utterly lost her mind. She clawed at his shirt until he made an impatient noise and ripped it off. She missed the touch of his hand between her legs, but she loved the sight of all that warm skin on display. Her hands went on an exploratory mission, feeling the rasp of his chest hair, tracing the carved lines of his body.
Cormac was in no mood to be patient, though, because he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and tugged them down as far as he could with one violent yank, which was barely below mid-thigh. Then he picked her up by the waist and deposited her in front of the vanity, shoving the first aid kit aside so he could bend her over the edge of the counter.
Tubes of ointment and rolls of medical tape clattered to the ground. A pair of scissors fell in the toilet. Lucy didn’t care.
Cormac’s hand went between her thighs, pushing inside, and Lucy let out a gasping, “Oh.” Cormac gentled his touch, stroking her hips, her bare ass.
“Sorry,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. His chest heaved in the mirror. “I’m sorry. I’m being too rough.”
Lucy hadn’t wanted him to stop. Feeling his hands on her—having him position her just like he wanted her—lit up some unknown pleasure center in her brain like a fireworks show. She backed into him, meeting his gaze in the mirror when he opened his eyes.
“Please don’t stop,” she begged, her voice a whisper.
He was all bronze skin and stubble and strength. The light carved shadows below the muscles of his arms and chest. The space between Lucy’s legs thumped with every beat of her heart.
Cormac closed his eyes for a long moment, his fingers digging into her hips. He seemed to want to get himself under control, but what Lucy wanted was the opposite. She wanted the man who yanked her pants down and bit her bottom lip. She wanted to see Cormac when the leash snapped. She wanted all of him—even the parts he kept hidden away.
But when she tried to reach behind her to touch him, he caught her wrist and pinned it to her lower back. Then his other hand reached between her legs to the slickness of her core. He let out a shaky exhale as he rubbed her, teasing her clit before sliding down to her opening. She watched him drop his gaze to the space between her thighs, felt him use both hands to spread her so he could see all of her.
Lucy’s cheeks burned as need built in the pit of her stomach. Bent over the bathroom sink, being spread open by the man of her dreams. The depravity of her position sent arrows of heat racing down her core.
“You are so beautiful,” he said softly. His thumbs traced her skin where her thigh met her sex. It was miles away from where she wanted his touch, but it still drove her wild. She squirmed. His thumbs made another sweep, a fraction of an inch closer to where she was neediest. “So pink and wet and soft for me.”
“Cormac,” she complained. She tried to spread her legs wider, but her pants were still bound around her thighs, and she was trapped exactly as she was.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me. Now.”
He hummed, thumbs moving slower. When Lucy made an impatient noise and tried to push back into him, Cormac huffed a laugh and swatted her bare ass. She gasped and straightened, and Cormac used the opportunity to band an arm around her stomach to pull her tight to his body. His other hand slid between her legs and went to work.
“Arms around my neck,” he ordered, the gentleness gone from his voice. “Look at yourself in the mirror. I want you to watch what I do to you.”
It didn’t take long for Lucy to fly apart. The feel of his bare chest at her back, the hard cock she could feel between her ass cheeks behind the placket of his pants, the strong arm that kept her glued to his body, and the fingers that worked like magic between her legs all conspired together to make Lucy lose her mind in record time.
She knew her fingernails were digging into the back of his neck as her climax hit, but she couldn’t loosen her hold. Pleasure spun through her, ripping away the last scraps of her sanity. She hadn’t even realized Cormac picked her up until she felt something soft under her back and realized he’d draped her over the comforter on his bed.
The calluses on his palms rasped against her legs as he pulled her pants down and off. The bed dipped as he kneeled next to her, and Lucy turned her head to stare.
He was a beautiful man. Built, lean, and capable. But it was the look in his eyes that really did her in, brimming with heat and need. His touch was gentle as he helped her out of her shirt, the fabric falling to the ground with a soft whisper.
“Your turn,” she said, reaching for his belt buckle.
He beat her to it, shucking his pants and underwear off with an unhurried efficiency. He was magnificent. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, with a solid pack of muscles over his stomach and a trail of dark hair leading to the proud cock jutting out below. Utterly masculine. Hers—at least for now.
Lucy let out a sigh of contentment as he draped his body over hers. His skin was warm, its scent intoxicating. He kissed her like it meant something to him, and Lucy spread her knees wider to cradle him between them.
His tongue slid over hers as his hands shaped her body. Sensations assaulted her brain—the contrast between the roughness of his palms and the softness of his touch, his hard, warm body above and the pillowy softness of the bed beneath her, the weight of him pinning her down, the scent of him in the sheets and on his skin, the silk of his hair between her fingertips.
And his cock, hard and hot against the crook of her hip.
“Cormac,” she sighed, and she kissed him again. The wetness between her legs drenched her. She wanted him desperately. Shifting beneath him, she moaned as his shaft pressed against the bundle of nerves where she needed friction most. They moved against each other, Cormac’s muscles going taut above her.
“I could come just from this,” he said in her ear, his breath warming the side of her neck. One of his hands slid down her side and wrapped around her thigh as he drove his body against hers. His cock slid against her core, thick and perfect. “Wouldn’t even need to be inside,” he continued, voice like gravel. “Just like this.”
Lucy whimpered in complaint. She didn’t want him just like that. She wanted him deep inside her. She wanted it all.
Cormac shifted and reached into the bedside table. He kneeled between her spread thighs and ripped open a small foil packet. Lucy watched him sheathe himself through half-lidded eyes. Her pulse thudded in her chest, her fingers, her thighs, her core.
He met her gaze. “Are you sure, Lucy?”
She briefly considered throwing a pillow at his face. Was she sure? Was she sure ? Lucy had never been more sure of anything in her life. She was aching for him. Her body was a string begging to be plucked. He’d given her one climax already, but her sex pounded with every beat of her heart. She wanted him inside her, now .
She lifted herself onto her elbows and said through clenched teeth, “If you don’t put your cock inside m?—”
Cormac drove himself inside, and they both gasped. She fell back onto the bed, arms like noodles, and curled her fingers into the blanket as he paused, buried to the hilt, stretching her body with his intrusion. He dropped his chin to his chest and inhaled deeply, his hands moving to Lucy’s waist.
“Fuck,” he finally whispered.
“Yeah,” Lucy replied on a gust of breath.
She wiggled her hips, already greedy for more. Cormac let out a low, animalistic growl and punched his hips into her again, again, again. She let out a soft oh with every thrust, clawing at the blankets, his chest, her pillow, desperate for—she didn’t even know what she was desperate for. More. Oh. Oh. Oh .
A shuddering breath, and Cormac slowed. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
Frustration snapped like a rubber band against her skin. Why did he insist on retreating? Why now, when she wanted it all? “I’m not made of glass, Cormac. You’re not going to break me.”
He met her gaze, hands tightening on her waist—and his control snapped like a dry twig.
Lifting her waist to arch her back, Cormac drove himself inside her deeper than before, setting a steady, punishing rhythm while his thumb found her bud and started circling. Lucy’s eyes rolled back.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said while he stretched her with every punch of his hips. “Look at you. Look at how well you take me.”
Lucy could only moan in reply. There were sparks going off in her blood. The muscles of her stomach tightened. Her thighs trembled. She’d never felt anything this good in her entire life.
“This is it, baby,” he said when her pleasure approached a new peak. “This is it. Right here. I’m not letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I tried to fight it, but I’m not a good man.” He pushed her legs higher and wider, thrusting deeper. “I’m not good enough to let you go. After this, I never will. You’re mine, sweetheart. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. You understand?”
His eyes were dark, his body hard. Lucy reached her arms toward him, and he lowered himself over her. His kiss was bruising; it was a vow.
“Yes,” she said.
“No going back.”
“You and me,” she said, and he kissed her again.
Lucy flew apart. Her mouth fell open as her back arched, and Cormac urged her higher with the low growl of his voice. When she shuddered around him, he joined her there, shouting her name as he came.
They panted, bodies stuck together, and drifted back down to earth one breath at a time.