Atlanta Heat (10 page)

“And I nearly lost the chance to see it,” Macey fumed. “Next time you want to play patty-cake with my secrets, sir, remember this. The next time you endanger her life, you’ll deal with me. And doing mad isn’t my way. I do blood.”

“And I do a baseball bat on stubborn male skulls,” Emerson announced as she left the bathroom. “Now, can we wrap this up so I can get some real clothes on and finally get some sleep?”

She was swallowed by his t-shirt. Her legs covered in dark bronze leggings, her hair falling around her face like mussed silk, she looked like a queen to him.

She moved to Macey, gripped his arm and pulled him back. He looked down at her, his heart softening,
his soul—damn if he didn’t feel his soul turning to mush at the sight of her pale face and her tired smile.

“Just hold me,” she whispered as his arms surrounded her and the sound of police sirens filtered from the open entrance outside. “Just hold me, Macey.”

He held her, ignoring the amusement in his friends’ gazes and the admiral’s scowl. He held on tight to what was his and thanked God she was safe.

His Emerson was safe and right here, in his arms, where she belonged.

THERE WERE OVER THREE
hundred people at the family reunion. There were dozens of tents in every shape and size scattered around the large farmhouse. There were bunks in the upper level of the barn and every kind of barbecue grill in existence set up beneath a covered wing off the barn. The floor of the huge shelter had been set up with dozens of picnic tables of varying sizes, and huge serving tables lined the wall.

It was an organizational nightmare, and Emerson was loving every minute of it.

Macey’s parents and grandparents had welcomed her into the family with hugs and bright smiles. Brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts and uncles had all taken their turn at making her blush and hugging her fiercely.

There were so many people they could have made their own town, and their personalities, temperaments
and smiles all made her feel welcome, if a little overwhelmed.

Macey was chafing at the restrictions, though. His grandparents had placed her in a small bedroom between their room and his parents’, and gave Macey strict instructions to steer clear of it after she went to bed.

The pressure was wearing on him, she thought in amusement on the third day. He’d already been in two mass brawls with too many of his cousins, and sported his bruises with pride. The lot of them were rough, ready to fight, and always good-natured after trying to break each other’s faces with powerful fists.

She’d tended his split lip, bruised ribs, and the wound that he had broken loose on his side. She watched as one of his cousins, a nurse, repaired the stitches that closed the wound while he glared in irritation over the inconvenience.

He was unlike any man she had ever known, even other SEALs. She knew why he had excelled in the SEALs now. A mission would be child’s play compared to butting heads with the other males in his family.

And she belonged to him. She might even belong with this strange, crazy family because rather than feeling like she was drowning amid them, their easy acceptance and laughing friendliness drew her in instead.

“We gotta get out of here.”

Emerson smiled as Macey’s arms surrounded her
from behind and his lips moved to her neck in hungry kisses.

“Stop, Macey could catch us!” She laughed as he growled.

“Macey has already caught you.” He turned her in his arms, staring down at her, his dark eyes filled with laughter and arousal. Heavy arousal. He was a man skirting the edge of his control.

“Do you know what these shorts are doing to me?” His hands skimmed over the snug, low rise shorts, smoothing over her butt and upper thighs. “They’re making me crazy.”

But his eyes were on another portion of her anatomy. They were gazing in rapt attention at the smooth mounds of her upper breasts as they peeked from the top of her light blue cotton shirt.

Her nipples hardened instantly, pressing against the thin material of her bra and showing through the shirt. He groaned low in his chest. “We’re getting out of here.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the shadow of the house toward the four-wheelers parked at the edge of the yard. Grandmother March did not allow four-wheelers in her yard.

“Where are we going?” She laughed as he gripped her waist and set her on the back passenger rack attached to it before swinging himself onto the front.

“Away from the mob.” The smile he flashed back at her was filled with happiness, male appreciation, and more than a little lust. “A hidden place.”

He started the four-wheeler and with a shift of
power they were bouncing through the field that surrounded the house amid the hoots and catcalls of his male cousins and knowing smiles from the female ones.

She should have been embarrassed. There were possibly three hundred people who were going to know in a matter of minutes that Macey had made off with her for some fun sex in the sun. Somewhere. But she wasn’t embarrassed, she was invigorated, energized. She could feel the emotions she had given free rein to grow inside her, filling her, pushing away the loneliness and lighting those dark places with happiness and a sense of freedom.

It was hard not to enjoy the freedom Macey gave her. The freedom to touch him, to revel in his arms surrounding her and the love growing between them.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Pierce Landry had tried to kill both of them. Two weeks since Macey had bulldozed his way past her shields to steal her caution and replace it with hope.

Her arms tightened around his waist as they entered the treeline and began moving deeper into the thick forest that covered the March property. She had forgotten how many hundreds of acres the senior Marches owned, but it was vast. Once a thriving cattle farm, it was now rich farmland warming beneath the sun and cool forests shadowed with secrets and a mysterious sensuality. She could imagine living here, hearing the birds sing every morning, watching the deer graze on rich, lush grass as rabbits scurried to and fro.

Maybe she wasn’t the city girl she thought she was.

“Here we go,” Macey called out as he parked the four-wheeler under a strand of thick trees.

“And what is this?” She kept her arms wrapped around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder as she breathed in the scent of him and felt her hunger rising.

“Look up.”

She looked up and her eyes widened in surprised pleasure.

“It’s a treehouse.” Her smile widened at the size of it. It was built between two huge trees, the lumber weathered with age, but not with rot. It looked sturdy, natural. A part of the trees that surrounded it and comfortable with its surroundings.

“Come on, I want to show you.”

Macey helped her from the back before swinging from the four-wheeler himself and leading her around one of the largest trees where a ladder had been folded down.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed. She had always wanted a treehouse, but hadn’t had a tree when she was younger to build one. It always seemed like such a cozy idea, the thought of the trees embracing a small shelter that embraced her. And now, Macey had one. “How long has this been here?”

“Since we were boys,” he told her. “Up you go. We checked it out earlier this morning for squirrels and stuff. It’s nice and safe.”

Emerson glanced back at him as she moved up the ladder, nearly laughing at the piercing look he was giving her butt. He seemed particularly enamored of her breasts as well as her rear.

She giggled as his muttered “Have mercy,” reached her. The sound was filled with hunger, admiration, and warmth. That warmth was what stole her heart. It wasn’t just lust. It was something that was just right.

Reaching the small balcony that surrounded the treehouse, Emerson stood and stared out around the forest beneath them. God, it was beautiful here, quiet and peaceful, sultry and warming. She loved it.

“Let’s go inside.” Pulling up beside her, Macey ducked into the opening and drew her in, and her heart stopped in her chest.

A queen-sized mattress was laid out on the floor, surrounded by tapered candles. An ice chest sat in the back corner, but the mattress held her attention.

It wasn’t an air mattress. It was a deep, old-fashioned feather mattress covered with quilts and heaped with pillows.

“You did this?”

“You wanted a treehouse to sleep in.” He looked around the small area in satisfaction. “My brothers and I built this when we were teenagers. I wanted to share it with you.”

She lifted her hand to her lips as tears filled her eyes. He was giving her so much. So many dreams,
so much happiness, and now, he was giving her one of the things she’d longed for as a child. A treehouse.

“I love you, Emerson,” he whispered, pulling her to the mattress and kneeling beside her. “I love you until sometimes I think I’m going to go insane if I don’t hold you.”

She shook her head, a tear falling as she stared into his face. This big tough guy, rough and ready to fight, and here he was kneeling in front of her, love shining in his dark eyes and tough face.

He lifted her hand and she stared down in shock as he slid the ring on her finger. The Ring. She knew what it was. The garnet, her birthstone, gleamed fiery burgundy and curved into a rich, lustrous emerald. Macey’s birthstone was emerald.

“They fit,” he whispered, his thumb smoothing over the stones inset in the gold band and curving into each other. “Like we fit. Fit me forever, Em. Belong with me forever.”

Her lips trembled, and tears fell from her eyes. “I like forever.” Her voice shook as she met his eyes and saw all the love, all the hope and joy she could have ever prayed for. “Forever suits us.”

“Belonging suits us.” His head lowered, his lips taking hers with a hunger that she knew should have shocked her, but instead, it met her own.

She laid back on the mattress, their hands tearing at each other’s clothes. Their lips, teeth and tongues devoured every drop of passion and pleasure they could find.

Clothes were discarded. Naked flesh met naked flesh as desperate moans mingled and hungry hands stroked. Sweat built on their flesh, making her breasts slick, heated as his lips slid over them. When his lips covered a nipple and sucked it deep and hard, her back arched in pleasure.

She pressed the mounds together as his lips began to devour both nipples. Sucking and licking as she writhed beneath him in passion.

“I’m hungry for the taste of you,” he moaned, moving from her breasts down her body.

His tongue stroked through the narrow slit of her pussy, and before Emerson could make sense of anything else she was drawn into a world of sensual hunger, heat and longing that only built and rose until she was screaming with her orgasm and begging for more. Begging for his cock rather than his lips and tongue, pleading for him to fill her.

When he filled her, he took her with long, slow strokes, worked the pleasure to a crescendo that flung her into the heavens in a burst of brilliant, fiery waves.

It was like this with Macey. Sometimes hard and hot, sometimes slow and hot, but always hot, always building, and always drawing her deeper into the magic of his touch.

Later, as the sun began to cool and shadows began to draw deeper into the treehouse, Macey moved. Champagne and two glasses were lifted from the ice chest along with a platter of cold finger foods.

They fed each other. Drank from one glass, and as darkness descended they loved again. Loved for hours until Emerson knew where she belonged, where her heart lay, and trusted in tomorrow.

In Macey’s arms.