Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (18 page)

And as always, he had his arm around her. Sometimes the arm signaled protective older brother mode. And sometimes the arm was a blatantly possessive move intended to stake a claim. One he wasn’t entitled to but that never stopped him from doing it anyway. At the club, he’d kept an arm around her waist or across her shoulders that clearly said
back the fuck off
to anyone thinking they might approach her.

Finding their way to his apartment, the flirting turned very real. He couldn’t remember how or why their conversation turned intimate, but it most certainly had. He’d been teasing her because he liked the shy blushes and the way she fidgeted whenever things got personal. Every time she squirmed, he got harder.

By the time that night rolled around, he’d been lusting after Angelina Marquez for years—something he only managed to keep in check because of who she was. Who Alex was. And who their families were to each other.

None of that however had played a part in what had happened. They were engaged in some half-assed truth or dare game when he’d gotten her to admit she’d never sucked a dick. He’d been ferociously pleased to learn that and turned on by her charmingly hesitant use of vulgarity. Taking things a few steps further, he’d found his opening and balls out asked her if she’d ever had her pussy licked.
Shit.
He could still see her squirming on his sofa, her face a deep red as he’d smirked at her discomfiture.

“Um, no,” she’d admitted with an adorable shyness that got his dick so hard it could have cut diamonds. “Never.”

Instead of paying attention to her body language and the way she looked away, he’d barely heard the words. “If only,
if only,
” he muttered silently at the memory. Jesus, he’d been stupid. For someone who was trained to study nuance from clients, witnesses, and juries—he’d completely missed what was happening right in front of him.

He’d teased her, barking with laughter, “Are you fucking serious? What’s wrong with today’s college boys? They insane or something?” he’d scoffed.

“Screw you, Parker.” She giggled. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“Oh, no fucking way,” he drawled. “There’s virgin pussy in the house and I can’t let that challenge go unanswered!”

“Stop!” she laughed as he launched himself at her, tickling until she pleaded for him to cut it out before she peed her pants.

“Oh, Angel baby,” he growled. “On your back, honey. Let me show you how the big boys do it.”

Her shocked reaction didn’t hide the spark of heat he saw reflected in her eyes. When whatever was left of rational thought had deserted him, Parker had been well pleased when she didn’t exactly try to slow down or stop the dangerous but oh, so sexy path they were on.

Remembering how he’d pushed her dress up and pulled down her panties to reveal the most delicious looking mound he’d ever lay eyes on with its soft tufts of brown hair and a scent that drove him wild, he groaned aloud in the present.

Getting her to surrender, to let him part her legs and go to town, had been quite the ordeal. But he wore her down with his fingers and his words, telling her how beautiful her pussy was and how he couldn’t wait to taste her.

And holy shit, had he ever tasted. Actually, thinking back, a more apt word would be feast. He’d feasted on her untouched flesh—licking, sucking, and nibbling till she shook and whimpered. He’d never forget what that first orgasm tasted like.

After breaking her down completely that night, it hadn’t taken long to get Angelina Marquez naked and in his bed. Where he’d always wanted her. Where he’d dreamed of being with her.

But he’d been an ass when it finally happened. Wanting Angel under him while he lost himself in her body had become a way of life. One he’d been living from the moment he realized she’d gone from annoying kid to voluptuous young woman. When the time came to make her his, he’d fucked up royally.

It wasn’t just orally where she’d been a virgin only he hadn’t been smart enough to figure that out beforehand. Her fist time had been a disaster, plain and simple. Instead of making love to her—as he’d fantasized about doing for so long it was in his damn DNA—he’d fucked her mercilessly, ramming past her maidenhead and losing himself. Totally.

She hadn’t come. How could she? It was her first time and even after discovering she was completely naïve, he’d been too overcome with arousal to dial back his response.

It was one of the most horrendous experiences of his life, having at long last gotten her into his bed only to behave like a dickhead college boy with no control over his cock.

And then he’d made things worse. Instead of talking to her, telling her anything at all about how he felt, how much he’d always wanted her, and how special she was—he’d lost his fucking mind and said nothing. Never even acknowledged that he’d taken her virginity.

Later, he’d been determined to make up for his brutish lovemaking but hadn’t bothered to tell her that, either. Instead, he’d set about instructing his young lover in the bedroom arts. What a fucking shithead he’d been. So much hurt and misunderstanding might have been avoided if he’d simply told her the truth. That he was probably more than a little in love with her and had been for a very long time.

No. That would have been the sane and reasonable thing to do—but for some inexplicable reason, he’d adopted this weirdly disjointed Professor Orgasm way of dealing with things. Without ever speaking of their feelings, he set about teaching his sweet Angel how to do and most certainly enjoy things that fired up the imagination and lowered the inhibitions.

They’d fucked like maniacs for six or seven weeks. He’d even taken her on a no-holds-barred erotic adventure when she’d had her period, filling her head with all that
your body is a wonderland
crap. In short—he’d been an epic tool. Looking back because, after all, hindsight was generally a perfect twenty-twenty, he could see where giving her an endless parade of orgasms meant absolutely nothing because he’d overlooked the part where he also gave her his heart. She’d had no idea and that was his damn fault.

And then . . . well, and then the shit hit the fan in a really big way. On a break from school, she’d gone home to Arizona for some family time while Parker was embroiled in a sensitive case that required him to make a trip to Guantanamo. He was distracted, on edge, and overworked. The terrorism cases were a big fucking deal and being singled out for the prestigious assignment had made him more irritable than usual.

Angie had been gone for about ten days and he’d been missing her like hell. As far as he was concerned, she couldn’t get back to Washington soon enough. He needed her in the worst way and not just for sex. He craved her adorable charm and that old-school ladylike way she had. She was a breath of fresh air amidst the stale, stagnant atmosphere in Washington. She was like the warm desert winds he missed—the ones that calmed the endless racket in his head.

Unaware that she’d returned to the city early to surprise him, he’d been having a brain fart moment with one of his colleagues—a very nosy co-worker who Parker didn’t particularly like or trust.

“Counselor, you are a dog! Who’s the fresh-faced coed we see you traipsing around town with? Jailbait, much? Hmmm?”

He’d been pissed right away. Knowing that people were talking about her—he couldn’t give a shit what anyone thought about him—infuriated Parker. Thinking he was protecting Angie, he’d said a bunch of dumb shit to throw the colleague off. Words that blew his relationship with Angelina Marquez into a million pieces and that stood between them to this day.

“Watch your mouth, Anderson. She’s family. Sister of my best friend who happens to be Special Forces in Afghanistan. She’s in D.C. for school and it’s my job to keep an eye out for her.”

And then he said the words that damned him for all time.

“Bit of a nuisance, really. Had a crush on me since she was like ten years old. But bro code, you know? While her brother is fighting Al-Qaeda, she’s my responsibility. It’s like having a baby sister.”

As soon as the words left his fucking mouth, he heard a gasp and looked up to see his Angel standing right outside his office door. She looked—
stricken.
Her face was ashen and her expression felt like a painful brand being pressed on his soul.

Muttering a horrified, “Fuck,” he’d jumped to his feet and made for the door as she turned around and hauled ass to the elevator. He had caught up with her seconds before the doors slid open.

“Angie . . . I can explain.”

“Fuck you, Parker! Baby sister? A bit of a nuisance? What was I? A pity fuck?”

And then she threw something at him. He’d asked her to bring him back a jug of his favorite saguaro syrup. When it hit his chest with a thud, he’d been jolted back a step. The girl had an arm on her that rivaled any minor league ballplayer.

She bolted into the elevator in a mass of shaking limbs, wide, teary eyes, and a trembling mouth. He’d stood there slack-jawed as the horror of what just happened exploded in his head. When the doors slid shut, the last thing he saw was his Angel’s wounded expression as she flipped him off.

Afterward, she’d cut him out of her life so completely that he’d had no choice but to let her go. He hadn’t seen her alone or spoken to her since that day. Not even when she came home with her folks two years ago after his father had his heart attack. He’d been in shock and out of his head dealing with his hysterical mother and ailing father and a never-ending slew of practical details—the type that ended up forcing him to leave the DOJ and return to Arizona to take over the family firm.

After that, with Angie on another continent and engaged for the past year to a pansy ass looking Spaniard, he’d never expected to see her again. Maybe that was why he was a fucking mess and acting on impulse. She wasn’t engaged anymore. They were back on home turf. And he wanted her as much today as he had for more years than he could count.

“Do I have to kick your fucking ass?” he heard a familiar voice snarl that snapped him back to the present.

Alex. Oh, great.

He looked at his old friend and did nothing to hide the regret he was feeling.

“Probably.”

He looked at Angie. Meghan was by her side, and except for a brief sympathetic look in his direction, she kept her attention on her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

“Dude—I’m not blind. Or stupid.” Alex was shaking his head at his sister’s back and frowning at Parker.

The band told the cheering crowd they were taking a break between sets. Thankfully, when the music stopped, his head started to quiet down. Not that it helped much—Alex’s frown was right on the edge of a menacing scowl. Shit was about to get real.

“I need another beer,” Parker grumbled.

Alex’s stone-faced response scared the piss out of him. Elbowing him toward the end of the bar, they walked in silence. As soon as they settled on a couple of empty barstools which magically got vacated when his friend’s angry scowl preceded them, Barry appeared with two cold ones and a bowl of peanuts.

They sat there—more silence—both of them nursing their drinks while he searched for what the hell to say. Alex Marquez was family. More a brother to him than if they’d been blood-related. The man wasn’t going to like what Parker had to say.

“In the interest of cutting through the bullshit, what do you know? What has Angie said?”

Parker had argued cases before the Supreme Court, and those black-robed justices weren’t nearly as scary as Alex and his dark scowl.

“Don’t cross-examine me, counselor. You’re on the witness stand, not me, you asshole,” his friend bit out.

Shit.
He winced. This wasn’t getting off to a good start.

Alex slammed his beer down and growled. “Why don’t you start with why my sister just left a handprint on your ugly face. You said you wanted to talk to her. Not start up a fight club.”

Parker zeroed in on Angie where she stood with the gaggle of women as they laughed and looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Alex’s warning growl, the second in less than a minute, cut through the noise at the bar.

“Look at her again, dude, and I’m going to stick a fork in your eye. You have like ten seconds to start talking or I’m calling for backup and you can find out what a Justice smack down feels like. Hope your health insurance is paid up.”

Crap.
What choice did he have at this point? He had to tell Alex the truth and just hope he survived the confession with all his body parts still intact.

Downing most of his beer, hoping for a bit of drinkspiration, he put the bottle down, lowered his elbows on the bar, clasped his hands together, and rested his chin on them for a moment while gathering his thoughts.

“Your sister,” he began rather apprehensively as Alex speared him with a hostile look, “um, I mean . . . oh, shit. Let me start over.”

To Parker’s astonishment, Alex held up five fingers, then lowered them one at a time, muttering, “Five, four, three, two, one,” until a beefy fist was formed. “I said ten seconds.”

The gulp was a reflex. The sigh was a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing.

“I’m in love with Angie.”

Alex’s eyes widened but the clenched fist still hung in the air between them.

“Excuse me?”

He knew exactly how his friend felt. Parker was also astonished at the words that just came out of his mouth. Until that second, he’d never said them aloud.

“You heard me,” he muttered.

This time it was Alex who looked toward the group of women with an expression that seemed a bit . . . incredulous. Thankfully, the fist dropped away leaving only his friend’s flabergasted face.

They sat there quietly, absently twirling their bottles in unison.

“What the fuck, Parker,” Alex finally muttered. “I always thought there was something going on with you two, but shit, man. Hearing you admit to being in love with her—well, seriously. A bit of a game changer.”

This was news,
Parker admitted silently. Here, he’d thought all these years that he’d covered his love-struck tracks pretty well.

“For me, too.” He sighed deeply and shook his head. “I think she hates me.”