Page 39 of Capturing Hearts

“My work and having my own thing is very important, Brendan. You know that. I feel like I’m talking to Christiano!”

Brendan glares at me. “That’s not fair.”

Exasperated, I exclaim, “It’s not! You’re right! It’s not fair that a woman has to worry about being assaulted and has to change her life accordingly, and give up things that matter to her, just to be safe! Or walk around afraid for her safety, at all! It’s not fair. It’s disgusting, and I hate it. Imagine walking into a parking lot, Brendan. Just picture that for a second. What do you do to make sure you’re safe? Nothing! As a man, you don’t even think about it. Well, I’m tired of this being a world where we women are tied up by invisible chains because some men see us as targets.”

Brendan sighs, pacing a couple steps in order to collect his argument. Finally, he looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “It’s not fair, Annie. You’re right. But you work in a job unlike most people’s. You work later hours, and we’re in a big city. We have to live in reality, not in a fantasy world where violence doesn’t happen. That’s why you’re taking Krav classes right?” I nod. “Well, I know what you’re saying is true. And that’s what we have to focus on. Because you are a target, it’s important to be safe, and until you can protect yourself again…” He sighs, closing his eyes. Lowering his voice, he turns and holds my eyes, wishing desperately for me to understand. “You don’t know what it is like to be a man and have your wife and baby in danger. You don’t know what it’s like for me,” he touches his chest, “when I think of that guy stalking you. Or any man touching you in any way. I want to kill them. And I don’t mean metaphorically. Please let me have Bobby come and take you home when I can’t, just for a little while. I’m begging you.”

Touched more than I can say, I surrender and take a deep, acquiescing breath. “I won’t work until the baby comes.” His eyebrows pop upward and he waits, listening for more. “And after that, I won’t close up anymore. I’ll hire a male bartender to work the tail end of the shifts, and between him and Manny bartending, too, that’ll cover that. The girls and I can share the early half.” Watching the dark cloud lift from my husband’s eyes, I add with a smile, “I’m sure when Jacob is actually in my arms–you hear that Jacob?–I will want to spend more time at home anyway. I can just go in during the early shift to get my fix, and Laura can help me manage. Is that better?”

Brendan grins, all of the tension leaving his body. “Yes. I can live with that.”

“I can do books from home, too, I guess, now that I think about it.”

He nods, taking a step forward. “Okay. That’s the plan.”

“After tonight.”

He freezes and his smile disappears. “Why after tonight?”

Stammering, I massage my belly unconsciously, looking anywhere but at Brendan, “Well, because Taryn and Laura are gone for the holidays! You know Taryn left almost a week ago, and Laura flew out yesterday to be with Dan’s folks in New Hampshire. She won’t be back until the twenty-sixth. Manny can’t do it by himself. We’re going to be slammed tonight! And Barb’s son is going to be there. She’d be crushed if I wasn’t there to meet him.” When I look at him, I’m surprised to see he’s smiling at me with love.

“Screw Barb’s son.”

“With or without a condom?” He melts into laughter and I hold out my hand. “Come here, please.”

He walks over and engulfs my hand with his much larger one. “I’m coming to work with you tonight.”

Sighing, I cry out, “All night? Why don’t you just pick me up afterward?”

He shakes his head back and forth once. “No. I will be there tonight. And I will be driving you there and driving you home. No arguments.”

“My husband is so dangerous.”

He chuckles. “I am very dangerous.”

“You want to show me how much?”

His eyebrows go up again. His smile is still there, but the expression in his eyes shifts as he says, thickly, “Yes, but I have to be gentle under the circumstances. So I will gently show you how dangerous I am.”

I grin as he pushes the ottoman out of his way. Frank Sinatra is singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in the background and the room feels warm again. Brendan kneels between my legs, pushing them open with his hips as he raises the hem of my skirt. With ridiculous speed, I feel myself ache with need, longing to put the argument behind us. “No panties?” he murmurs. “You dirty girl. Close your eyes, Jacob.”

“Don’t say that! You’re killing my mood.”

“Is that so?” His head cocks to the side, forcing a lock of wavy, dark brown hair to fall forward. He takes my hand and lays it on the worn cotton of his favorite jeans, directly onto his growing bulge. “You don’t want this?”

I clench with desire, my eyelashes falling to look. “No, I don’t want that.”

Brendan’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly. “No?” He rubs my hand against the heat.

I lick my lips and shake my head. “Uh-uh.”

He reaches over and, as if I weigh nothing, yanks me to the edge of the cushion. My nakedness is pressed against the crotch of his jeans as his free hand gropes my temporarily enormous breasts.

“Take this off,” he commands, gesturing to my sweater with an annoyed look.

I slip it off, shaking out my long hair, tossing the sweater into a blue heap on the floor. He leans forward and comes so close to kissing me it’s excruciating. His lips brush lightly across mine. He pulls away as I lean in. I hear the surprising sound of my bra unsnapping under the skill of his fingers. He was successfully distracting me. My breasts tumble free, and he slides the flimsy fabric away from me, tossing it, his eyes on my naked mounds. Lifting each of them up into the warmth of his hands, he leans down to lick one nipple after the other. I watch his tongue move across the dusky pink crests with agonizing slowness. He returns to my right breast knowing it’s more sensitive than the other, more responsive and eager. He stays there a deliciously long while causing arousal to pool out from between my thighs. I forget all about my body-insecurities under his touch. The attentive sucking and gnawing on my flesh is the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, just enough to make me moan his name.

He groans and slides a hand under my bunched up skirt, causing my breath to hitch. His fingers begin to work my folds, slipping inside as I throb. Tortured, I bring my hands up and claw into his hair, pushing his lips harder into my taut nipple, aching for more. All of the anger we’d felt is gone now. He bites a little harder and I moan again, louder this time, more desperate for him. Smiling against my skin, he rises to devour my mouth in a heated kiss, forcing my lips to open with his tongue. I taste it then: the milk.

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