Captive at Christmas (10 page)

As he stood up, turned on the whirlpool taps and left the room, her eyes swept over every inch of his sculpted, powerful form. Thick, corded muscle going from his shoulders down to his waist and, she blushed as her heart-rate sped up, his unbelievably firm backside. Magnificent was the only word she could come up with to describe him, even with the scars. They didn’t take away from his strong, masculine beauty.

“I can feel you staring,” he rumbled from the fridge.

“Just giving you the same attention that you gave me,” she laughed, pulling the sheet around her chest as she propped herself up on the pillows. “That’s right, Mackenzie, I saw you staring at me! And it had nothing to do with making sure I wasn’t going to attack you.”

The flush on his face as he returned to the room boosted her confidence and she reached for him. Even hovering a few inches above her, with a few blankets between them, Hannah could feel the heat of his attraction for her, emanating from his body like steam.

“You’re awfully brave today,” growled Mac, seconds before claiming her mouth. “I mean that, Hannah.”

She looked up and saw it in his eyes.

A mixture of respect, admiration and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It roused her appetite for him once more. Despite the throbbing she felt, which was fast being replaced by a different kind of ache.

A longing so powerful, so deep that her body took over her actions. Her arms circled his neck, legs wrapped around his waist to pull him back down.

“Hannah …” He nuzzled her neck. “Whether you want it or not, you need to rest. Bath first.” With another show of strength, Mac lifted her from the bed and carried her towards the tub which had filled up. He turned off the taps and checked the temperature, then stepped into the water, cradling her to his chest.

Once again, Mackenzie gently washed her. This time, he went slowly, as if memorizing every inch of her skin. He awakened her desire but denied her release, claiming she needed a break. Rather than attempting to sate their collective ardour, Hannah slipped her arms and legs around him as tightly as she could to prove that she had no intention of letting him go. Mac sighed, returning her crushing embrace and she pretended that he used his body to respond in kind.

~~~

Christmas.

Just naming the holiday in his head brought all shades of terror to mind.

As a kid, the holidays were filled with anger and animosity between his parents as they argued who should have to watch him while the other got to be free. As he grew older, Mackenzie spent the time alone and finally, when he joined the military, he worked. Took on extra shifts or attended training camps, purely for something to do.

Then there were the years when he’d been held in captivity.

Tortured.

That’s what Christmas meant to him.

Pain.

Horror.

Things he would much rather forget.

Mac barely understood what possessed him to go out and find that tree, stay up all night and carve out the decorations.

No, that wasn’t true. He did it for Hannah.

And hell, he would gladly do it again.

The bed was empty when he rolled over. Mac noticed the scent of coffee and cinnamon drifting under the closed door and he smiled involuntarily.

Hannah. God, what a woman. He sighed happily, knowing he had no right to feel this way, but it couldn’t be helped.

Even in light of the past few days, he felt genuinely blissful.

Then he turned it on and his phone beeped, telling him there was a new e-mail. The only one he was waiting for.

Eyeing the bedroom door, he decided to check the message in absolute privacy and snuck from the bed into the bathroom.

With closed eyes, Mac pulled a few deep breaths into his lungs. He opened the message and held the last breath he took while scrolling down to read its contents. The number. Percentage. Ninety-nine point…a succession of nines…Kayla was his daughter.

His heart lurched forward and he almost choked on it.

“Mac?”

Uttering a few choice words, he turned his phone off, hid it in one of the drawers and jumped into the shower. The last thing he could deal with right now was Hannah’s sweet nature, her trusting and loving attitude towards him.

His whole life was spent alone or at the very least, with people just like him who understood their value. Understood that they were not worthy of the dirt clinging to their shoes, but by taking the role handed to them, they might adhere to a shred of self-worth. Because of this, people like Mac were easily moulded into whatever the government felt they could be best used as at the time.

Programmable, erasable pawns in a deadly game, trained to perform any task they were given, at any time and in any and all possible conditions.

Now, somewhere out there was a human being, made of the same building blocks as himself.

Jesus Christ, it was nothing more than a goddamned disaster waiting to happen. The poor kid had to be a ticking time bomb with genetic material like his running through her.

And the pair of them, living under the same roof?

Hell, the building would come down around them in pieces after a week, at the most.

The water wasn’t even close to being hot enough. Mac turned the tap to make it so, wincing as the heated water scalded his more sensitive flesh. The intent was for him to feel some serious pain, but after a minute, he only recalled Hannah’s touch.

Her soft, slender finger tracing each marred line. Lips taking over for fingers and eventually, tongue replacing lips. He was hard again, a violently throbbing ache that resisted his commands to disappear.

Cursing under his breath, he gripped himself with a soapy hand. To want Hannah with all of this on his mind was deplorable but he had to rid himself of this arousal so she wouldn’t take matters into her own hands – literally.

He didn’t deserve her and he never would, despite his heart screaming out, protesting his brain’s decision.

From the bedroom door, Hannah made out the sounds of running water which meant that Mac was in the shower. Perfect. She grinned, silently walking across the floor until she reached the island counter.

It seemed a waste to have packed everything she did and not use any of it, so she took out the burgundy table cloth with silver and gold embroidery, and laid it over the surface. She worked quickly to set a nice place for them to enjoy Christmas breakfast together. A plate of fresh baked cinnamon buns and other confections went in the middle, along with a pot of coffee and their mugs.

Hannah finished just as Mac came out of the bedroom. The look on his face melted the smile on hers.

Something was seriously wrong. But, she knew better than to push.

Instead, she fixed her smile and nodded to the food and coffee, going straight for a butter tart herself. This morning called for nothing less than the best tasting treats and seeing as how she had been working off every calorie she consumed, this was technically just evening things out.

Or so she told herself.

By late afternoon, his mood still had not lightened.

She didn’t know if perhaps she had overdone the holiday thing or if another issue entirely might be bothering him.

Rather than push him for an explanation – knowing firsthand how volatile Mac could get when cornered – Hannah prepared the whirlpool tub for him with a few drops of lavender oil from the basket of complimentary oils, salts and soaps next to the taps.

She poured him a glass of wine, leaving it on the edge of the tub, and gently pushed him towards the bedroom without saying a word.

With trembling hands, she removed each item of his clothing, pausing to touch her lips to his chest, right above his heart. Mac tugged at the hem of her shirt and she raised her arms up in assistance. His gaze swept over her body, causing a heated trail of longing that pooled in her lower abdomen before billowing outwards.

“I need you, Hannah.” He seized her in a crushing grip, trapping her softness against his hardness. “I need you and I can’t be gentle this time.”

“Then just take me,” she whispered, not taking the time to consider what he might have in store for her.

It didn’t matter.

Whatever Mac wanted, whatever he needed, she would give him.

All thoughts of getting him to unwind in the Jacuzzi tub were abandoned with the feel of his hands on her bare flesh. Hannah came to the realization, rather swiftly, that she was helpless when it came to Mackenzie.

When he lowered his head to taste her neck, she willingly bared the sensitive flesh to him, essentially offering her surrender and submission. She would take him any way he wished to give himself to her, be it slow and sensual, fast and frenzied, or anything in between.

With his mouth suctioned to her throat, Mac swept Hanna into his arms, peeled the rest of her apparel away and dropped her on the bed rather unceremoniously. Unused to such raw passion, she went from being stunned by him to reacting, clambering to her knees in what felt like a fraction of a second.

The hunter had returned, silently stalking his prey in a show of dominant maleness. The only sound in the room she could hear was the thudding of her heart and blood rushing to her ears.

Like an agile feline, she stretched out to reach for him, jutting thick, strong and proud from a nest of trimmed, dark curls. Having estimated her move, he grinned, backing away from her extended hand. Then he vanished from sight, with a speed unparalleled for a man of his immense stature.

Hannah released the air from her lungs in a whoosh when she landed on her stomach, Mac’s hands around her ankles as he pulled her knees from under her. He covered her body with his. Hands slid up her calves, kneading her thighs and backside.

“Christ you are so damned incredible, Hannah,” his voice sounded ragged, like gravel being ground into glass.

Powerless to move, she endured his rough yet torturously unhurried massage. She felt as pliable as a lump of clay and imagined that his strong, capable hands were manipulating her into the perfect mate.

With Mac, she truly felt beautiful. He made her feel it, not just with words, but through his touch.

With Mac, she felt safe and cherished, despite the press of impossibly chiseled muscles, holding her down.

“Slide your knees up sweetheart. Yeah, just like that, that’s good.” He guided her into the position he wanted her, face and chest touching the mattress, knees underneath and her most private places bared to his gaze.

Securing her hands at the base of her spine with one of his own, Mac put her in a situation where, had he been anyone else, she would be terrified. But she trusted him. Trusted that, whatever he was about to do, it would only bring them both to the heights of pleasure the likes of which she couldn’t possibly know.

Hot air fanned her seconds before he fastened his mouth over the most sensitive part of her core. When she bucked against him, gasping in sublime ecstasy, Mac brought a firm hand down across her backside, forcing her back into position.

Hannah whimpered his name, unable to stop herself from shuddering wildly as an orgasm was all but forced from her. She had come close to blacking out when his mouth vanished, replaced by the prodding of something firm and warm.

“Are you sure about this, Hannah?” His voice sounded dark and thick, desperate and hungry. “Letting me take you how I need you?”

She all but sobbed her response. “Yes, Mac, oh God yes!”

With a forceful grunt and his warm breath on her neck, Mac thrust himself into her, just as roughly as he said he would. Hannah filled her mouth with the blankets beneath her to keep from screaming out in a fusion of pleasure and agony.

This coupling was miles from the slow, easy lovemaking of the day before.

It was powerful, raw, forceful.

A man taking what he needed from the woman offering herself to him.

The difference between just any man and Mac, he made certain she was comfortable and enjoying his ministrations as much as he was.

Unlike yesterday, where the intervals between each thrust and withdrawal were spread apart so that she had time to think about how her body felt with and without him, she was so lost in the moment now.