Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (39 page)

All of that was nice but came second. Cameron Justice saved her the moment he actually saw her. He saw her! Nobody ever saw her. She was invisible, thrown away, of no consequence.

But this beautiful man with the sometimes-fearsome scowl and dark, brooding intensity—not only had he seen her, he hadn’t looked away. She felt like a real person for the first time.

He was her first in more ways than one. When she’d looked into his face and seen his unusual green eyes and those damn eyelashes, it wasn’t so much his handsome face or that bad-boy sexiness that grabbed her—it was the way he looked at her. Knowing someone finally saw her was staggering.

She had to tell him. Had to show him. Let him know that no matter what—he’d been the first. The first free choice she’d ever made and that she would adore him to her dying breath.

After that? Oh, boy. Well,
that
had certainly never happened before. Of course, he’d have questions. He’d be insane not to. They’d been together more than a year—were married and had a baby. In all that time, she’d never ever been aggressive and demanding.

How the hell was she supposed to say,
The demons were chasing me and I used you and your magnificent body to get me out of my head.
Of course, maybe that was exactly what she
should
say.

Jesus. Her mind was working so hard, he could almost hear the gears grinding. Cam knew his delicate Ponytail so well. Sprawled and seemingly peaceful across his big chest, she was actually all but jumping out of her skin with her mind furiously churning as she tried to make sense of whatever was going on.

He could feel it in the tension hardening her luscious body that minutes earlier had been soft and warm and her still rapid respirations let him know she was back in her head and struggling once more.

Shit.

Waiting her out was his only option. Until she was ready to talk about what just happened, he was more than happy to remain as they were—naked and stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace. Any time he could hold his woman tight and relax knowing she was where she belonged was more than all right with him.

A warm sigh drifted across his skin.
Hmph.
The waiting was almost over. He stroked her back gently but said nothing.

Before long, another sigh—this one harsher, more troubled. She was having a tough time.

What was that word Brody used in their recent video chat?
Waitience?
Yeah. That one. Patiently waiting. Well, enough of that shit. Maybe he should prod just a little to get her started. See where that took them.

Kissing the top of her head, he tightened his arms, and quietly asked, “Did you tell the girls?”

Cam knew he did not need to clarify further. She would understand what he was doing.

And then, the long sigh before a deep breath that signaled she was ready to talk. Lacey raised her head off his chest, made a fist, and rested her chin on it angling her face so their eyes could connect.

Now that the wildness was gone from her expression, she looked rather bewildered and not just a little flustered. God, she was cute. Sometimes, like right now, he remembered that she was barely twenty-four—the youngest adult member of Family Justice and yet she held her own around a bunch of burly guys and kickass women. Earning not just their respect but their unconditional love and support as well.

Nodding in answer to his question, she winced at the same time. “Yeah.”

“And?” he encouraged with a tiny pat on her bottom.

Lacey’s sweet lips curled into a half-smile, and she giggled softly. “Well, there was talk of digital shenanigans . . .”

He couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter. “Shenanigans? Oh, no! Someone threatened actual shenanigans?” he hooted jokingly.

She nudged him and feigned outrage at his teasing. “Are you making fun of me, sir?”

Her approximation of what a stern expression looked like melted Cam’s heart.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he drawled at the same time that he smacked her soundly on the ass.

Now that the tension had eased, she was talking and engaging in a bit of playful banter. She told the ladies, they’d threatened retribution. That was all he needed to know for now. She’d tell him the rest in due time.

“Come on, Mrs. Cameron.” He chuckled. “Your very hot ass is turning blue from being chilled. I take it my son is enjoying a late siesta?”

She groaned quietly and nodded.

Okay, well they didn’t have long, but they did have a window of opportunity he intended to take full advantage of.

“How ‘bout we continue in the shower?”

A pouty smile lit up her adorably freckled face. She knew damn well what would happen ten seconds after they were under the steaming waterfall. The smile revealed her excitement. But her pout? That was another thing altogether.

She sat up and pushed some hair over her shoulder. He rolled to his side and leaned on an arm, watching her face.

“I love you,” she blurted out awkwardly. Cam knew his eyebrows had shot up at the impassioned declaration and instantly reached for her hand.

He brought her knuckles to his lips, and with his eyes locked on hers, he pressed a slow, warm kiss there. Instead of speaking and interrupting her flow, he told her through his touch, the gentleness of his kiss, and the reverence in his gaze that he most certainly returned the love.

In a hushed voice, brimming with emotion, she told him, “My life began the day we met.”

She said it with such utter sincerity that Cam had a hard time swallowing past the sudden thickening in his throat.

Pulling her long locks in front of a shoulder, she fussed, her fingers making a haphazard braid. The action was more habit than anything else. When she was finished and there was nothing else to keep her hands busy, she shifted into a cross-legged position and hunched forward with her elbows on her legs. Quite the fetching pose, considering she was naked.

“You know,” she began quietly—her face scrunched in a mask of torment. “I don’t remember ever dreaming after my dad left.”

She shrugged and he clenched his jaw. No part of this should be reduced to a mere shrug.

“Certainly never after I ran from Florida. It was . . . weird,” she admitted. “And not only that, I didn’t really daydream. Maybe a little but mostly about things I take for granted now—like getting to take a shower or having clean clothes.”

Cam wanted to hit someone. Or smash something. Or both.

“But . . . after you brought me here?” She looked around and smiled. “My dreams slowly came back.”

Something fluttered in his chest. Her dreams came back. How come he felt like crying at hearing that?

“Baby,” he husked on a voice choked with emotion. “I only had nightmares before you.”

Lacey reached out with both hands and framed his face, her thumbs sweeping over his lips.

“I loved you before the dreams came back. You were first, Cameron. Before all that’s come after. The first choice I ever made for me.”

Ahhhh.
He was finally starting to get it.

We make choices for Dylan every day. My mom made choices. Everyone does, you know?”

Cam nodded.

“Anyway,” she murmured. “When my father had to make a choice, he turned his back on me and walked away. His choice. His responsibility. His legacy. Not mine.”

Wow. For one so young, his wife had the depth and wisdom of an old soul. That was one hell of a heavy statement she was making. And one he couldn’t find any fault with. Frank Morrow was a fucking bastard and he got what he deserved.

“I was nobody before you,” she said in a hushed voice. “Nobody saw me.”

It was hard to stay still when he saw tears shimmering in her eyes.

“But then this dark, brooding loner came along and invaded not just my life but my heart and soul, too.”

This time it was his turn to blurt out, “I love you.”

“It was you, Cameron Justice, who told me that the past might shape who we are but it doesn’t have to weigh us down or define who we become.”

Cam smiled. He had indeed said that to her a long time ago, and she had used the exact same expression on him to wake him the fuck up.

“This is my family. You. Our son. Justice.”

Yeah. He totally got it now.

“This is my choice. You were first. Frank Morrow can go fuck himself,” she muttered sarcastically.

He snorted at her use of profanity, earning him one of her hilariously faux-stern looks.

“It was also his choice to move on with his life as though my mother and I never happened.”

“Lacey Cameron, you are one hell of a woman,” Cam drawled.

“This is the last time we ever talk about this. Dylan’s family is here, with Justice. Alex is already acting grandparent, same for Meghan. The truth is that he’s got more aunts and uncles than he’ll be able to count and I’m sure a bunch more cousins on the way. And those cousins? They’ll be the next generation of Justice.”

“So . . .” he asked, “I’m not on the shit list for tracking him down and opening up this whole thing?”

“You did what you thought was best, and I love you for that. We don’t grow and learn by running away from difficult things. Now I know. And because I do know, we get to move forward without anything holding us back.”

“Infinity and beyond?” he snickered.

“Yes, Buzz,” she giggled back, “and the way beyond.”

“I want another baby,” he announced, startling them both.

“What?”

Grabbing hold of his wife who was looking at him like he’d grown another head, he playfully pulled her as he rolled onto his back, bringing her atop his torso.

“Yep. Daddy wants to make another baby with Mommy.”

“Does Mommy get a vote in this?” she purred.

“Are you kidding?” he joked. “You always get the final say, babe.”

Lacey smiled and scraped her nails down his chest. He growled.

“Well, in that case, I cast my ballot for . . .”

And, just like that, Dylan Henry Cameron let loose with a hungry, bellowing wail that hurriedly ended their discussion.

F
EELING PRETTY SATISFIED THAT HE’D
made the right choice, Parker was congratulating himself for thinking on his feet and executing a total redo of the plans he’d made for their dinner.

Once he recovered from the erotic heart attack Angie gave him when she, in quite the symbolic way, put on her big girl panties and then wagged her ass in his face, he knew what he had to do.

So she wanted to challenge him, did she? Cool! He wanted to laugh and laugh big. God. She was exhilarating. He’d missed her. Missed the crazy fuckery that always seemed to accompany Angelina Marquez.

Instead of his Porsche, he’d driven his everyday ride, a big SUV with so much on-board technology and options that it was like a miniature spaceship. And big enough that Angie’s sexy ass was seated much too far away as far as he was concerned.

Those shoes—the ones he was going to fuck her in some day—made hopping up into the big vehicle a challenge for her. A situation Parker was happy to remedy—which he did by picking her up as she squealed with surprise and deftly situated her, right down to engaging the seatbelt harness.

But right now he was annoyed as hell that there was so much space between them. He couldn’t haul her closer because the seatbelt would prevent that.
Fuck.

Grunting with frustrated displeasure, he turned and looked at his passenger and almost drove off the goddamn road because in profile? Her tits were fucking mesmerizing. Barely contained in whatever the fuck it was that she was wearing, the plump orbs spilled over the black lacy neckline. Not that he was complaining.
Pfft.
Hardly.

“You sound like a bear,” she drawled silkily, her lips curled in a quivering smile. Apparently, she found his displeasure funny.

“Whoever designs these vehicles is a champion cock blocker.”

She turned in her seat and comically gaped at him. “Did you just call the car out for, um . . . blocking your cock?”

He growled and bared his teeth when he did—looking over at her with a leer so raw and lascivious, there was no way she could mistake the meaning.

“I want you close enough to touch. Close enough to smell.”