Bane: Elite Operatives (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 4) (18 page)

I’d just started showing, and he couldn’t get enough of touching my belly, waiting for the first movement. He couldn’t get enough of my breasts, either, but that wasn’t exactly new.

I sighed peacefully when he moved down my body, his lips finding the small mound where our baby grew. “Well, we’re not naming her anything like Matilda.” I drifted my fingers through his short blond hair the way he liked.

“Why not? You know I think your old lady name is hot.” He kissed the apex of my belly, grinning up at me.

“Justice.”

He roamed up my body. “We can’t call her that. It’s my name.”

The man was certifiable. Certifiably in love with me, he always said.

In the end we’d decided to name her Beatrice. It was Justice’s idea, sticking with the
old lady theme
he said. Usually we called her Bee, but Justice had given our beautiful daughter a new nickname he liked to use: LBB, otherwise known as Little Ball Buster.

The first time he’d felt her kick, his eyes grew round as saucers before his eyelids dropped closed and a smile trembled on his lips.

“Will she do it again?” he asked in an awed whisper.

“She’ll probably do it all night if you keep me awake.”

“That can be arranged.”

He’d tried to be a gentle lover while I was pregnant. He’d always ended up with the same animalistic passion—that wild roughness no man had ever shown me before. Justice still liked to fuck every chance we got. I was not complaining.

He rounded the doorway to our bedroom, sweet-talking to Bee.

She cooed at him, butting her face against his as he whispered a little mantra in her ear, “Your mama’s right here, LBB.”

She was so tiny in his big brawny arms, my gorgeous baby daddy. He doted on her, spending his days with her while I was at work and he was off mission. I’d met him at the park once, watching him for a few minutes before I’d made my approach. Mr. Mom. Mr. Hot Dad. I bet all the women’s wombs combusted whenever they saw him . . . sans child. When he was cuddling and crooning Bee? I bet they nearly fainted en masse.

I didn’t blame them one bit.

My man was
all that
.

“Here’s Mama. Got your midnight snack.” Justice placed Bee in my arms, watching warmly as she quickly rooted for my nipple.

“Supposed to be
my
midnight snack,” he grumbled, winking at me as he joined us on the bed.

I ran my fingers through his hair while patting Bee’s bottom lightly. She had my red hair—
apricot-colored
—and his stunning sapphire eyes.

We were going to be in so much trouble when she got older.

When I’d mentioned that to Justice several weeks ago, he’d said, “Don’t worry. She’s gonna have a few younger brothers to look after her. Stomp the shit out of any asshole who tries it on.”

“Oh, she is, is she?”

“Yeah. Let’s start working on that right now.”

I’d laughed when he picked me up in his arms, racing upstairs to take advantage of Bee’s afternoon naptime.

He squished closer, rubbing a huge hand up and down her back. “Gotta good appetite, just like her mama too.”

“Watch it, buddy.”

Justice grasped my free hand and brought it his mouth. He kissed each fingertip before drawing his tongue lightly along the heart of my palm. Lacing our fingers together, he held them against our daughter’s softly blanketed body.

Linked forever.

“Never thought I’d have my own family, Tilly girl.”

I squeezed his fingers. “I never thought I’d love anyone so much, Justice. You and Beatrice.”

His kiss whispered against my cheek. “We done good.”

I shifted Bee to my other breast, prodding a nipple into her mouth she sleepily accepted. My other breast shined from where she’d latched on, the peak damp and red.

Justice swallowed roughly. Releasing my hand from his, he rolled onto his back.

“She asleep yet?” His voice was husky.

“Justice.”

“Hey, I was kidding.”

“No you weren’t.” Bee sleep-sucked a few more times before her little rosebud mouth slipped off.

“You got me.” He chuckled, his shoulders tight, his forearms ratcheted over his face.

“Jus?”

“
Mmm
?”

“I’m all yours after you take our little sweetheart back to her crib.”

“Hot damn!” He stealthily scooped Bee from my arms.

I leaned a little to the side to watch his backside when he exited the room. He didn’t return as fast as I thought he would. Turning to watch the video monitor, I saw him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, singing some kind of lullaby to Bee as he patted her back.

“Your mama’s waiting for me, LBB, so just one more song.” He nuzzled his nose into her bright curls. “Okay. Maybe two.”

BLAIZE

April 2017

My parents were just plain shocked. My father probably thought I’d be a career lifer, which I was. It just so happened my husband was, too.

Almost husband.

Mamere—on hearing Storm’s and my announcement—had hooted so loud on
that cell phone thing
I thought she’d deafened me. The woman’s joie de vivre was contagious, though, and the shouts and congratulations went on for a long time.

Bane stood up next to Storm at the altar despite grumbling one of his more creative curses when he learned we were engaged.

The wedding virus.

As I glanced back down the aisle I’d traveled—the long trail of my ecru satin gown swishing side to side—I had to blink away tears. It wasn’t like me to get overly emotional. Storm seemed to be the only man to touch that soft guarded part of my heart. The only man capable of unlocking my hurt soul and healing the old wounds.

Our mission in New Orleans over a year ago turned out to be a life-changer in so many ways. I’d appointed myself Storm’s partner on that Blood Legion MC op. I’d wanted to see what kind of man he really was—the darkly handsome, gorgeous panty-melter who always got tongue-tied around me, or the macho alpha male badass I knew him to be when he was working.

It turned out he was a little of both.

He’d had no idea the attraction between us had never been one-sided. I’d had him on my radar in a thoroughly nonprofessional capacity since the first time I met him.

Maybe I’d tell him . . . later, tonight. Although I sometimes liked to keep the balance of power in my favor, that never seemed to last long with Storm. Especially not in the bedroom. Or the kitchen. In his truck . . .

At least in the war room he knew who was in charge. Mostly.

Among the sea of faces filling the tightly packed little parish church in the Louisiana countryside, Angel smiled broadly, dipping his blond head in my direction. My parents sat up front with him and Mamere.

Mamere was already crying—she’d probably need to touch up her Mary Kay before the reception.

James Lawless, my mentor, was also present along with Tilly and Justice and Beatrice.

Babies.

I couldn’t believe it.

Storm had already decided we’d have at least two—knocking the original number down from five when we’d negotiated the matter.

I’d informed him he was lucky to get a ring on my finger and not to push his luck. There was one more secret I might let him in on tonight. A very special wedding present.

Kiki sat out there, sharing a pew with her former enemy—Walker—and Jade who passed Howie to the proud papa to be entertained so she could concentrate on the nuptials.

I knew I’d been right about Kiki Damage all along. Too bad we’d had to dismantle Operation T-Zone in its entirety in order to prove it.

No one held my attention for long, though, not with Storm standing beside me. Heat radiated from him, warming me inside and out in that powerful way of his. I could hardly focus on the priest, Storm’s presence made anything other than possibly drooling at the sight of him impossible.

I probably wouldn’t tell him
that
, though.

I smiled, lifting my eyes to his, once again melting inside.

Sinful. That was what the man was. Filling out his suit, the black stubble shading his crisp jaw, the long sweep of raven black hair. The smoldering blue eyes continually sweeping over my long, clinging gown.

As soon as I’d arrived at the altar, he’d growled out in a voice audible only to me, “Goddamn,
cher
. I can’t wait to get my hands all over you.”

He’d dipped even closer, his lips at my ear, his next hot words making my pulse erratic.

Now he stood strong and tall, his voice deep and clear sending shivers down my spine. “I, Nash LaFontaine, promise to protect you, cherish you. I give you my body and my heart,
cher
.”

He brushed his fingertips over my face while my breath trembled and a tear streaked down my cheek.

“These are the vows I make to you, my life and love I give to you, from this day forward.”

For the first time in my life, my words came with difficulty only because my throat was so tight with emotion, my heart so filled to bursting.

“Your turn,” Storm whispered with a wink, but his eyes were damp, too.

My vows were more quietly spoken, a simple affirmation of my devotion to the man I loved more than I could ever express. As I spoke, Storm gasped in a breath. His throat bobbed as tears spiked his eyelashes without falling.

Our eyes locked, our hands laced together—the intensity of feeling growing between us. I watched his chest inflate and his lips part and his eyes dilate. The priest said a few last words before the most important of all:

“I pronounce you husband and wife!”
With a final benediction, he smiled at us.
“You may now kiss the bride.”

As if to hurry would ruin the importance of the moment, Storm angled my face in his big hands, caressing my cheeks. I stepped closer, my breasts brushing against his chest. Our lips hovered just a whisper apart before meeting. The soft mesh and slow movements even more thrilling than a wild clash of tongue and lips. A languorous and hot and binding kiss. Lust and love pouring through my veins, pooling between my thighs.

Pulling back to kiss his way my ear, Storm said on a ragged groan, “A lot more of that later.”

Another shiver spread along my limbs.

Turning me, Storm presented me to our guests.

My husband lifted his head to the rafters and shouted, “
Laisser les bon temps roulez
!”

“You gotta SITREP for me?” Storm asked me after we waltzed outside, carried along by the cheering crowd.

He looked down at me, his smile so big and bright. Picking me up in one swift move, he spun me in a circle without giving me a chance to answer or do anything other than laugh with him.

Tents were set up on the church grounds underneath giant old trees. The band—made up of folks with squeezeboxes, fiddles, banjos—occupied a small stage. Alcohol in abundance was already being passed around, and more food than I’d ever seen in one place at one time appeared on long tables.

“Perhaps I could have a moment alone with you?” I asked when Storm finally set me on my feet.

“
Aw
shit. You’re not gonna start talkin’ shop with me, are you?”

I bit my bottom lip, flicking my eyes to his. “Not unless you’ve been to some
very
. . .
dirty
. . .
shops
.”

“Hell yeah.” He linked my arm through his elbow like a gentleman, but hustled me along so fast I nearly skipped to keep up with his longer stride. “Come with me.”

Pulling me around the back of the chapel, he tested the door, using a little extra force when it didn’t budge. AKA breaking and entering.

Quickly locating a room off the dim hallway, he coerced that door, too, before locking us inside.

We were all over each other in an instant. I gasped, jerking at his jacket, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Christ, Blaize. You’re hot for it,
huh
?” His tongue slowly roved up the side of my neck as his hands swept down the open back of my dress.

Grabbing my ass, he hauled me up against me. Another moan whimpered from my throat when I felt the long hard ridge of his cock driving against me.

“Where are we?” I breathlessly asked.

“Dunno.” Searching for my legs beneath the skirts, he slid his tongue deep into my mouth. “Someone’s office.”

“Isn’t this sacrilegious?” I grinded against him, finally working my hands into his opened shirt.

The springy chest hair teased my fingertips, and I leaned into him, my mouth and teeth finding the flat disc of his nipples.

“Cajuns are pretty earthy about sex.”

“Even in a church?”