The Drive Home
She felt the same wild discomfort she had riding from the airport. The black Range Rover provided more luxury than she was familiar with. The classical music seemed too fragile for her. She was too big, unrefined and awkward in the space too close to him.
“It’s okay, Frankie,” Christopher said when they’d traveled in stiff silence for too long. “The car has survived Vanessa’s twenty-first birthday. You’re not going to damage it. We haul wet skins and crabs in the back all the time.” He grinned at her. “You really think you’re going to break things?”
She nodded her head, looking out the window. “Yes.”
He crinkled his nose at her and chuckled. “I have no idea how you think you could, but I don’t care if you do. I like making messes. I play rough. You saw, and felt Vanessa. We’re all like that under the polish and restraint.” He tipped his chin up haughtily. “We are rowdy, loud brats. Much to the horror of the rest of the family. Polite Wallaces on one side and uptight Harrises on the other. Mix, apply proper Welton influence and you get…us.” His eyes twinkled over at her. “Hooligans.”
He’d removed his jacket but even the shirt had marks of the wine spill. She liked the bright dapples across his heart. He extended his hand to her, palm up, a silent offering.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted. “I’ve spent a lot of years being warned about—”
The chuckle he made was pure delight. “Hurt me. Pretty please.” That was a dare if she ever heard one. Sliding a look over at her, he added, “I’m very durable.”
It was true. He didn’t even wobble when she crashed into him. “But not indestructible.”
He grinned at her. “It’s never been tested,” he said.
She let out a breath and slipped her hand into his and threaded their fingers together, smiling at the contrast of their skin tone and size. He squeezed her back, warm and confident.
The sun was starting to decline toward the hills, long shadows dancing between the rows of grapevines. After the fourth turn since the departure from Highway 29, Frankie regarded him, eyebrows knitted. “There’s not a sign on that road. I’m going to get so lost.”
“Are you requesting I chauffeur you?” he asked.
“I was thinking of something easier. Like a map.” She pointed to the GPS but her heart sank when she saw it didn’t list a name either.
“I’m not much of an artist but I could try something. I would hate to see you go missing.”
At last, they reached the impressive wrought iron gates with the oak-tree pattern twisting in black metal. He pulled up alongside the security box and stopped, turning to her curiously.
Her attention was on the flowers, balloons and other gifts left along the front fence line. Her mouth fell open. The outpouring of sympathy right at the gates was staggering.
“Code?” he asked, glass sliding down to let in the hot lash of August evening air.
Shaking off her shock, she snapped her mouth closed. “I’m not giving that to you.” She chewed at the inside of her cheek and eyed the open window before leaning over him, extending herself out into the heat to punch in the code.
A wild thrill raced through her when the curve of her breast brushed his chest, and she saw from the corner of her eye how his eyes darkened. His quiet sigh of pleasure tickled her neck.
Her nipples tightened and she wanted to press into him, curl her body around his and force him hard into the seat. Their eyes met just as his mouth brushed her shoulder where a scar made a silvery comet through the spattering of nutmeg freckles.
It felt better than anything in her life.
Warm and silken, the soft contact made her stomach tighten and clutch and a heated flush burned through her. The cedar and sandalwood scent of him was too much. She pressed into the feel of his mouth, breathing in his intoxicating scent as caution scattered like wind tossed butterflies. Feeling his movement, she turned to him, arching her eyebrows.
He didn’t jerk away.
She waited to see the fear and pain.
She braced to be shoved back.
When his lips brushed hers, her breath sucked back like the building of a storm. Her muscles locked into place with shock and she froze against him. Her heart hammered as she prepared for him to bolt.
He didn’t recoil from her like she burned him.
Instead, he purred an invitation against her mouth, his big hands cupping her face as he caught her lower lip between his and sucked. Soft and lingering, he pressed his teeth into her until the sensation provoked a small mewl of desire from her.
Oh. Fuck.
He growled into the sound, releasing the bite, but his mouth crushed back to hers. The low, rumbling purr vibrated through her and made her nipples strain through her wine-stained dress. He coaxed her with his tongue, teased her, carefully invited her lips to part for him, and for her shy tongue to touch his.
He tasted like the ginger cookies, wilderness, and dewy midnight shadows. Perfect.
Hers!
A heartbeat passed and then another before she allowed the air to sigh from her lungs. Her mouth softened and as she pressed against him, a small, pleased growl vibrated from somewhere in her chest.
The answering moan he made was of broken relief, filling her as his tongue curled into hers, sharing the intimate caress as though she were the best thing he’d ever tasted.
Christopher slid one hand into her hair while the other caressed her face. His thumb brushed from the corner of her mouth down to her chin as he lured her deeper into him, all the while uttering those sweet, hungry sounds. Hers.
She slid her hands to his face, felt his dimples, the corners of his mouth, the angle of his strong jaw and then found fists full of his dark curls and held him in place, afraid he would bolt at any moment. Just a little more.
Please.
He moaned into her, arching toward her and pulled her closer.
In contrast to the hand in his hair, the kiss remained a careful caress of his lips on hers. She grew bolder against him, their breaths mingling in hot, shuddering gasps, hearts pounding together.
Together.
To-geth-er.
She curled toward him, grunting and snarling in frustration as her hip caught against the arm rest and something painful in the console prevented her from getting closer. There was just not enough room to accommodate both their large bodies.
He chuckled against her lips and his hand tightened in her hair, teeth finding her lower lip for a sharp bite that made her efforts melt into a pool of shivering hunger.
The code-box chimed, indicating the gate had opened and closed without them noticing.
He released her as she jerked back. She was the one who fell away and into her side of the SUV with a gasp of shock.
“What. Was. That?” She blurted through her fingers. Her head rang as though a choir of heavy-metal angels were playing between her ears.
“A kiss.” His words sounded muffled. His mouth looked…fucking delicious. Swollen and wet from the kissing. From her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh, God.” She closed her eyes, horrified. She’d bit him. Her own lips sang with the same sort of ache. “I should have been more careful. I should be—”
“Frankie,” he purred her name, growling around the ‘R’ as he cupped her face, and suddenly the scent of him blotted out everything else, the feel of his fingers caressing along her eyelids and the backs of her knuckles.
“I…never— I don’t know— You—” She tried several different sentence starts and each faltered into silence. “Fuck.”
He hooked a pinkie through hers, pulling to reveal her mouth. She hesitated with a moment of resistance before allowing him to guide her. “Shouldn’t kisses always feel like that?” he asked and very softly kissed the side of her lips, the spot that burned from the bite.
Her smile quivered, curling up at the corners. “Yes,” she agreed.
His eyes softened, glittering in the fading daylight as his fingers wrapping around hers possessively. Not afraid. Not in pain. “You didn’t hurt me,” he said firmly. “You are delicate and careful.” His expression brimmed with the same affection she felt swelling in her chest. “You taste like lightning.” He grinned at her impishly. “And gunpowder.”
She crinkled her nose at him. “Ew.”
He mmed softly and licked his upper lip, eyes closing. He lifted her hand to his face and nuzzled her scarred knuckles, kissing each one. “And oranges.” Finally, he relented, sighing heavily. “The code?”
“That does not sound sexy.” She smiled wider and he grinned at her, crinkling his nose back at her.
“Made you smile, Sunkist.” He pulled her in and kissed her, once. Then released her so he could punch in a code of his own, smirking. “And…I have a code. I should have said.”
“You are a brat.” She swatted at him. He caught her hand and drove through the gates when they opened.
“My property connects to yours on the far side. I could always ride up to your door on my trusty steed.”
She gave him a skeptical look, but before she could come up with a decent response, she felt the borderlines of the gate. It was like an electric buzzing pressing into her and then swirling around her in an eager, joyous thrumming.
Home.
Home.
Home!
She could even feel Intuition’s delight in her arrival with Christopher beside her, her fingers woven though his.
“Blood calls to blood,” he said softly, watching her from the side of his eye as the SUV passed beyond the gates.
“Right.” She wanted to laugh, but feared if she did, she would break into something hysterical. Her face already hurt from all the smiling. She gave up pulling it back and cuddled into him. “Apparently, you are approved too.”
“That’s a good start.” He grinned and slipped his arm around her. “Welcome home, Frankie.”
The driveway was long, twisting around the mountain to reach the house tucked between oaks and redwoods. Everything was welcoming and familiar, like she was always supposed to be here. Why had she waited so long? He parked the SUV at the roundabout before the majestic Victorian.
“This is it.” She forced herself to sound more confident than she was.
“Yes, indeed.” He opened his door and got out, moving to the passenger side door to open it for her and offer his arm as escort.
“I can walk on my own.”
“But then I wouldn’t have the privilege of escort.”
Here heart fluttered as she took his arm and climbed out. “I can’t believe you’re real.”
“Fairly confident I’m authentic.” He assured her and inclined his head as he pulled her closer. “Solid Wallace upbringing, but Amy is primarily responsible for my training.”
They walked toward the house but he let her set the pace. Not saying anything when she turned to gawk around her at the green lawn, the lush trees and the beautiful, huge house.
“I’ve only seen it in pictures,” she said, voice pitched low, filled with awe. “Will you come in with me?”
He tipped his head at the suggestion as they walked up the steps and she fished in the packet for the ring of keys. “Yes. Of course.” Reaching out, he indicated one of the keys on the ring. “This one is for the front, with the yellow tab.”
She unlocked the door and he provided the security code for the alarm from memory, shrugging at her accusing look.
“I grew up here. This was my second home.” He motioned for her to enter first, waiting just outside for her to peer around in the entryway. “You can always change it if you don’t trust me.”
Except she did trust him. The house trusted him. The grounds. Everything.
Frankie felt like she was full of fireworks.