The Enemy Within (Daughters of the People Series Book 3) (12 page)

“I know that’s
why you were called the Enforcer.” Her muscles trembled when he sucked the
tender skin of her inner thigh, scraped his teeth there. “That was a long time
ago.”

“What was it you
said about the past clinging to the present?”

He braced his
hands along the outside of her thighs, pressed butterfly kisses to her stomach,
licked gently into her navel. She sucked in a breath and brought her hands up,
cradling his head against her abdomen.

“You have to let
go of the past sometime, Bobby.”

“Not today. Today,
I’m teaching you a lesson.”

“What…” She
moaned when he raked his tongue across her nipple. “What lesson?”

“The Enforcer is
not to be trifled with.” He captured her nipple in his mouth and suckled until
her eyes fluttered closed and her head fell back. Her skin tasted like the
sweetest nectar as it hit his tongue. He laved the velvet of her nipple over
and over again, willing her to
feel
, willing her to
need
. “Tell
me no, Indigo.”

“Um.” She
cleared her throat, rolled her head against the pillow. “What am I saying no to
again?”

He stifled the
laugh that rose over his anger, washing him clean with its goodness. Goddess,
she was cute when she was lost in passion.

“Sex. Tell me
you don’t want me.” He rose over her and prodded the core of her body with the
tip of his erection. It was all he could do to hold back, to keep from slipping
into that tight, wet heat. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her eyes popped
open and she gaped. “You want me to turn you down now? Are you crazy? If you
stop now, I’ll kill you.”

He hooked an
elbow under one of her knees and pressed it against her chest as he surged up
into her, burying himself in her heat in one smooth stroke. His own muscles
trembled with the need to stay there, to love her until the pleasure lifted
them high and her heart cried out for him. “Be certain,” he gritted out.

Her hands cupped
his face and her eyes softened. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Hook your leg
around my back,” he said, and when she did, he pushed into her with sharp, hard
thrusts of his hips. Her eyes drifted closed and her hands gripped his
shoulders so fiercely, his blood welled up under her fingertips. He welcomed
the pleasure-pain and used it to focus, to hold his body in check even as she
gasped and arched against him and her sweet little pussy rippled around his
erection in a frenzied release.

He pulled out of
her, stopping the build of his own release as her hands slid limply off his
shoulders.

“Holy Mother.” A
secretive smile tilted her lips upward. “Remind me to make you mad again
tomorrow night.”

He huffed out a
half-laugh. “I’m not finished yet.”

She lifted her
head and raked a gaze down his body. “Bobby,” she said, and fell back onto the
bed with a lusty sigh.

He captured her
hands and pinned them above her head with one hand. Her body was slick and pink
from their play, and he’d left too much of it unexplored. She shifted under
him, rubbing her hardened nipples across his chest. They were round and firm
and begging, and he couldn’t deny them a minute longer.

He licked across
her skin, tasted sweat and woman and sex. The heat in his body skyrocketed to
an unbearable level at the little whimpers she made deep in her throat. He let
go of her hands and flipped her over, pressed open mouthed kisses down the hollow
of her spine, exploring her slowly, filling in the long years of yearning. All
that time, dreaming of how she would feel under him, imagining the way she
would move and sound, the way she would beg for him. Those piddling hopes had
never come close to the reality of holding her, of joining with her so
intimately, they became one.

He built her
passion one trembling sigh at a time, savoring every inch of her until she
clutched the covers in her hands and squirmed beneath his mouth. His control
broke when she arched her bottom up, offering herself for him. He knelt between
her legs and urged her onto her knees with her head cradled in her arms and her
back sloped downward, thrusting her lush bottom into the air, and drove into
the slick clasp of her core.
Sweet Mother, yes
. This is what he’d waited
for, this moment when she was his, only and ever his. He’d never let her go
again, not until the last breath left his body.

She moaned and
pushed back against him with each thrust and he fell into her, lost as his
heart thudded and his muscles tightened and she drew him in, welcoming his
touch as desire built to a fevered pitch. He pounded into her until she came
and called out his name, and her body clamped down on his, pulsing and
fluttering, pushing him past desire into release. He gentled his thrusts as it
went on and on, spilling his seed into her until he had nothing left to give.

Indigo struggled
to catch her breath, to bring her body down after the seeing to Bobby had given
her. When he’d pulled out of her after that marvelous display, they’d fallen to
the bed with him spooned behind her, their sweat slicked bodies sliding until
they fit together, just so.

He’d lashed out,
trying to scare her into backing off maybe, and given her a telling glimpse
into the man hidden beneath the carefree, fun-loving veneer.

She’d reveled in
the sting of his teeth on her skin, the force of his thrusts, the throb of his
release. Never before had a man taken her like that, like he couldn’t live
another minute without being inside her.

And he’d been
right. Bobby Upton was not a man with which one trifled. Lesson learned.

Giddiness swept
over her and she laughed to herself until her body shook.

“Shh.” Bobby
spooned against her and stroked her hair. “It’s ok.”

She shook her
head. No, it was not ok. It was wonderful, fabulous. Absolutely exhilarating.

She couldn’t
wait to do it again.

His arms
tightened around her, pulling her flush into his sweat soaked nudity. “I’m so
sorry. Do you want me to leave?”

She blinked and
rolled over. His face was pale under his tan, his expression pinched and full
of regret, like he’d committed the most horrible of sins.

“Why would I
want that?” she said, honestly baffled.

“I hurt you.” He
dropped a kiss to her forehead and pulled away. “Let me get something to clean
you up.”

She grabbed his
arm. “Wait. It’s not like that. I mean, yes, you hurt me, but not…” She blew a
breath out. “It’s a good kind of hurt.”

How could she
explain the fullness in her body, the delicious tenderness between her legs,
and the power of knowing that he wanted her, fierce and rough and hard and
urgently, as no man had ever wanted her before? That having him bear her mark
made it all the more beautiful and real?

“Hurt is hurt,”
he said with a skeptical look.

“Not this time.”
She sat up and held out her hand, waiting patiently until he took it. “I want
to tell you something.”

He curled around
her, rubbing her nose with his in a gesture so tender it took her breath.
“What?”

“I don’t care
what happened in the past.”

He stilled in
mid-rub and his eyelids slid shut. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“No, listen.”
She grabbed his arm, holding him in place. “What you did after, well, after
that day, the things you did in the Army, I don’t care about that. It doesn’t
change what’s between us.”

“Indi, baby. You
don’t know what I did back then, all the people I hurt, all the...” He
swallowed hard and nuzzled his face into the crook of her shoulder. “Don’t tell
me it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,”
she insisted. “If you can’t let it go…”

“Who says I
haven’t?”

She gave him the
look that comment deserved. “Do you love me?”

His gentle
laughter feathered across her skin, chilling her, arousing her. “You have no
idea how much.”

“And after all
this time,” she murmured. She’d always heard that once a Son gave his heart, it
was no longer his. Could it possibly be true? Hope fluttered in her stomach, as
jittery as nerves and twice as elusive. “Let it go, for me. Let the past not
come between us anymore.”

He held himself
still against her for long moments, his muscles clenched, his breath a gentle
brush across her throat. At last, he said, “I’ll try. I swear to you, Indi,
I’ll try.”

She exhaled the
breath she hadn’t known she held. It would have to be enough. “Share a shower
with me?”

He drew back,
studying her as desire pushed the worry out of his expression. “Are you sure I
didn’t hurt you?”

“Not the way you
mean.”

He shook his
head as she led him into her bathroom, reveling in the soft smile playing
around his mouth, the sheer beauty of his perfectly muscled form. As the water
warmed and the tiny room filled with steam, she ran his fingers through hers,
marveling at the rough callouses, so different from the tender warmth of his
gaze.

“You’re doing it
again,” he said.

“What?”

“Biting your lip.”
He dipped his head and licked at the corner of her mouth, catching her teeth.
“Keep doing that, sweetheart, and I’ll keep pleasuring you, as long as you want
me to.”

She laughed
softly and pulled him into the shower’s warm spray. Bobby posed her with her
hands against the shower wall and her legs spread wide, and washed her in
gentle strokes, murmuring softly to her as he ran his hands down the column of
her neck and the curve of her spine; over the roundness of her bottom and into
the sensitive creases beneath it; down the backs of her legs and up again,
sliding over her stomach to cup her breasts and knead them; into and around
every inch of her body in a slow, torturous route. Her heart thumped in her
chest and her breath caught in her throat and her muscles trembled under the
heat of his calloused touch.

He eased her
beneath the spray, rinsed her skin off, and tilted her head back to wash her
hair, rubbing her scalp with the pads of his fingertips until she tingled. By
the time he finished, she was trapped somewhere between gentle need and bone
deep relaxation.

“You give
awesome showers,” she said.

He laughed and
rubbed soap across his chest. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Mmm.” She
leaned against the wall of the shower and trailed a finger through the soap
bubbles on his chest, tracing the letters of her name, branding him in this
small way as hers. “Can I do that to you?”

“Not unless you
want to have sex again.”

“I’d love to,
but I think we probably need to talk.” Still, she couldn’t resist running her
finger in slow spirals around his nipple. “Plus, I’m a little sore.”

His eyebrows
snapped together as he put the soap away. “I knew I hurt you.”

“Only a little and
it was good.”

“You’re sure?”

She gave a half
laugh. “Any better and I would’ve melted into a puddle on the bed.”

After toweling
each other off, Bobby helped her dry her hair, using her blow dryer set to low
and her brush to comb through the long strands, soothing her.

“Are you sure
you’ve never done this before?” she said.

“Only in my mind.”
He put the dryer and brush away, and rested his hands on her bare hips,
stroking the skin tenderly. “My sisters never trusted me with their hair.”

“Their loss,”
she said, and he grinned. “Do you still need to leave?”

“Mom’s expecting
me.” He rubbed a hand across his hair, brushing out some of the water lingering
from their shower. “I can text her, let her know I’m not gonna make it home
tonight.”

She peered at
him over her shoulder. So, his earlier excuse for leaving had really been about
hiding the
aenkanien
from her. “Remember when you told me not to lie to
you?”

He wrapped his
arms around her, propped his chin on the top of her head. “Yeah.”

“Ditto.”

“That wasn’t a
lie, exactly.”

“Close enough.”

She took his
hand and led him to the bedroom, and hesitated yet again, uncertain over
dressing for bed or not, over where they would each sleep or how. Would she
ever learn to be comfortable with this intimacy?

“Do you want to
talk about it tomorrow?” He picked up the watch he’d laid on her nightstand
before their shower and checked it with a slight frown. “It’s getting pretty
late.”

She couldn’t
talk to him while she was stark naked. It sent her mind down too many dangerous
paths. Bobby working his way up her body with nips and licks and knowing
touches. Bobby filling her with his hard length and sending her over the moon
again and again. She shivered as need stirred in her nethers. A nightshirt it
was. She walked to the chest of drawers and rummaged for one. “I want to see
your mother first thing in the morning.”

“You don’t have
to do that.” He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her pull the shirt on,
his eyes following the quick stretches and jiggles she made as she shrugged it
on. “I told you. There’s no obligation here.”

“Yes, there is.”
She flipped her hair out of the neckline of the shirt and sat down beside him,
taking his hand into her own, his rough touch comforting in a way she could
never explain. “It’s not just about duty, Bobby. I’m a hundred and sixty two
years old, well past the age for a Daughter to have her first child.”

His breath shallowed.
“You want to have my baby?”

“Yes.” He looked
so vulnerable, so insecure. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his
mouth. “You’ll be a good father.”

“You don’t have
to claim me to have that.”

“No, but since
you already bear my mark, it seems like the sensible thing to do.”

And she wanted
it, so very much, to wake next to him each morning, to feel him move within her
each day, to bring him pleasure. To feel special, needed, and to make a
difference in someone else’s life.

His expression
shifted, as if he were waging an internal war. “Why me?”

“Because you’re
kind and sweet and funny.” She kissed him again, let her lips cling to his for
a moment. “Because you make me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the
world.”

“You are.” He
wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck and touched his forehead to hers.
“Like a flesh and blood cross between Snow White and Wonder Woman.”

A giggle bubbled
over and she fell back against the bed, taking him with her. “Really? Wow.” She
traced a hand over his shoulder, marveling at the way his body was put
together. “I can’t decide if I’m flattered or not.”

“Be flattered,”
he said firmly. He slipped his hand under her shirt and stroked the backs of
his fingers along her stomach. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been
more certain of anything.”

That much was
true. The number of things she was sure of at any one time wouldn’t take two
hands of fingers to count. The decision to take Bobby as her mate was easily
the most certain thing in her life, though she refused to dwell too heavily on
the whys.

“I want to live
with you.” His fingers moved up into longer strokes down her abdomen. “If you
want me to.”

“I do. We can
find a house later, if you want.”

“I’ve already got
the furniture built,” he said with an easy grin. “We’ll need a big yard with room
for a garden and a swing set.”

She arched an
eyebrow. “Planning ahead?”

“Since I was
fifteen. I know this place near Tellowee.

So much had
changed the second time Bobby walked into her life. A few weeks ago, knowing
that he’d wanted her since he was little more than a child would’ve sent her
running scared. Now, she wanted to make a life with him.

Of course, now
he was a grown man.

She ran a hand
over his
aenkanien
and a secret thrill shivered down her spine. He was
hers now, only hers. She would find a way to make it work. “Your mother has to
agree to the claiming first, and she might not. She may be offended at my
treatment of her precious son.”

“She knows you
had nothing to do with the
aenkanien
.”

“Mmm. Well,
we’ll see.”

Bobby took a
minute to text his mother, and Indigo didn’t rag him. Even in these relatively
safe times, the People lived in the shadow of danger. Sons and Daughters alike
were still hunted and harmed on a regular basis. No need to worry Rebecca
unnecessarily with those fears.

Indigo flipped
off the lamp and scooted under the covers next to Bobby, and drifted into sleep
as he cradled her through the long, autumn night.

* * *

India slipped
through the balcony doors into Hiro’s apartment and placed her gear in a neat
pile to the side. In the light shining dimly through the glass, she could
barely make out his sleeping form. It was late and she shouldn’t have come.
Still, it wasn’t the first time she’d slid into his bed in the middle of the
night, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

The hospital had
been quiet when she’d snuck into the nursery to see her new siblings, the
favored son and another girl. She’d stood over them as they slept, watching
them as a good sister should, and her chest had tightened with unaccustomed
emotion. Tenderness at the miracle of their birth. Love that they hadn’t earned
and wouldn’t appreciate for years, if ever. And a sweet longing to have a child
of her own.

Her mother must
be happy.

India unlaced
her boots in jerks and tugs, set them beside her gear, and yanked her leathers
off as a storm of conflicting emotions raked at her. Frustration, bitterness,
anger. They rolled over her, pushing out the softness, leaving her heart hard
and cold.