Chapter 39
If my girlfriend wasn’t already the most sought after interior designer in Dublin, I’d have hired someone to come in and kit out the nursery with the best that money can buy. Instead, I sent Belle out for as many parenting books as she could find on her lunch break. I have to feel like I’m at least doing something productive in anticipation of his arrival.
My offer on the house was accepted. I knew it would be. No one in their right mind would turn down sixteen million euro in cash.
Luke is apparently doing well in rehab. Amy or Amanda or whatever her name is called yesterday to provide an update. The timing, much like Zara strutting into my office, is eerily uncanny.
I stride towards the glass wall overlooking the Irish Sea, and tilt my face up to the sky. I’d bet my fucking life my father has a hand in it somehow. To the Becketts, I might be the devil in a three-piece suit, but I’m pretty certain I have my own guardian angel watching out for me. I raise my glass of Macallan skyward. ‘Slainte, Dad p>
The purr of an engine approaching alerts me to the arrival of my girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
The word doesn’t even nearly cover what Zara is to me. Her presence in this house, in my bed, in my arms, makes me feel more at home than I’ve ever felt in my life. I sleep better with her beside me, and not just because I know she’s safe from that lunatic who escaped from prison all those months ago.
I instructed Gabriel to look into Jack O’Connor’s disappearance, but he has apparently vanished.
Or crawled under a rock and died.
I’m beginning to think the latter is the only option because as much as I hate to admit it, Beckett Elite Security have a reputation for being the best. If Killian Beckett can’t find the man who’s spent his entire life claiming he’s going to kill his family, and Gabriel can’t either, then I don’t think there’s a lot left to be found.
But, still, I refuse to take any chances when it comes to my family’s safety.
I stride towards the front door, but my housekeeper, Helen, beats me to it. She opens the door as Tate helps Zara out of the passenger seat.
‘Tell me that glass is bulletproof,’ I say dryly, eyes narrowing on the sleek black SUV. ‘Because if it isn’t, that’s the last time you ride in that vehicle p>
‘Yes, Cole.’ Zara rolls her eyes, her lips tipping upwards into a sexy grin. ‘It’s ballistic-grade laminated polycarbonate over tempered glass. It’s designed to stop high-calibre rounds, explosives, and—apparently—your anxiety. You could fire a bloody rocket launcher at it and I’d still be able to do my makeup in the rearview mirror p>
‘Good.’ I press a kiss to her lips and run my palm over her bump.
Tate nods in greeting. He doesn’t say a lot—not to me anyway but we’ve come to an understanding, the same way we did in the Dominican. We both have Zara’s best interests at heart. That’s why when she moves in with me, I’m going to insist he stay on with her as her protection. It’ll mean leaving Elite Security, but I’ll make it worth his while.
Besides, I owe the bionic bodyguard big time.
If Felstead had been in Punta Cana, I wouldn’t have got near Zara Beckett, and I wouldn’t be expecting a baby with the only woman in the world to steal beneath my skin.
Felstead. He doesn’t even attempt to hide his disapproval of our relationship—something which I find downright disrespectful as well as diabolical. Something else about that man disturbs me too. He radiates a weird vibe. Like he’s hiding something, but I have no idea what. I make a mental note to get Gabriel to do some digging—preferably with a JCB.
I treat my staff well. Pay them well over the expected rates, whatever their role. But in return I expect three things: loyalty, discretion and respect.
And so far, Felstead has shown Zara none of those things.
‘Are we going inside, or are you planning on standing out here palming my stomach all night?
I usher her in. Tate reaches into the boot of the vehicle and hauls out her overnight bag.
‘Tate, you know you don’t have to be here.’ I motion to the four security personal at the bottom of the driveway. ‘Gabriel’s here too p>
‘I know,’ Tate shrugs, following us into the huge hallway. ‘He texted me. Reckons he’s going to whip my ass at poker tonight p>
‘So that’s how you spend your evenings here.’ Zara spins on her heels to face him, tilting her head back to meet his eye.
‘Got to pass the time somehow.’ His lips slant upwards.
‘The left wing is yours. Gabriel will show you. You may as well have your own space here. If I get my way, you’ll be here permanently soon.’ I press a hand to the base of Zara’s spine and usher her through to the drawing room, the one where I just raised a toast to my father.
‘Cocky—again,’ Zara comments, but she doesn’t shoot me down entirely.
‘Confident, for the hundredth time.’ I pull her against me, breathing in her familiar scent, her shampoo and that citrus perfume. She snakes her arms around my waist and presses her cheek to my chest, inhaling my neck.
‘What is that?’ She peers around me as Tate makes himself scarce. The staff have their own quarters to the left of the property. That’s probably where he’s headed if they’re playing poker. I don’t mind. I prefer it when it’s just us in the house. I’m not shy; I don’t mind an audience, but I prefer to have Zara all to myself.
I assume she’s talking about the whiskey. ‘It’s a Macallan,’ I admit. ‘I’ll do you a deal. I’ll start drinking Beckett’s Gold when you agree to introduce me as your man p>
‘I didn’t mean the whiskey.’ She side steps. ‘I’m referring to the pile of parenting books stacked on your coffee table p>
‘Oh, them.’ I clear my throat. ‘I like to be prepared p>
‘Is it possible that beneath your bad-ass reputation, you’re actually a bit soft? Maybe even sweet?’ She lifts her fingers to cover her mouth as she strides towards the books. I follow, hot on her heels, because I can’t not. The need to touch her constantly is overwhelming. I press my erection into the crack of her ass. ‘Does that feel soft to you p>
‘It feels fantastic.’ She laughs, but isn’t deterred, reaching for the book at the top of the pile. ‘The Book You Wished Your Parents Had Read p>
‘Actually, I don’t wish my parents had read any book.’ I thread my arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck. ‘I had great parents until one died and the other became distracted trying to fill the void that death left. Thanks for the counselling that day, by the way. It meant more to me than you know p>
‘You’re welcome. I hope things are… better.’ She places the book back down on the pile and twists to face me with an earnest expression. ‘Is she still with Doug p>
Zara remembers every detail of our time together. Including the name of my stepfather.
Then again, so do I.
‘They are slightly better,’ I grunt. ‘The mere thought of Doug the douche is enough to piss me off, but I’m trying not to let it ruin my relationship with my mother p>
‘Good.’ She presses her palm to my cheek.
‘Now, enough of that soppy shit,’ I growl, dipping my lips to hers. ‘Are you wearing any lingerie under that dress?’ I’m too impatient to wait for her answer. My hand is beneath the fabric before she can even open her mouth.
‘Fuck. Me.’ Her mouth drops open as I slip my fingers inside the lace sheathing her pussy. She’s soaked for me. She always is. I love it—the effect I have on her.
‘Oh, I will, sweetheart. I will.’ I slide my fingers through her slickness, all the way up to her clit, then slowly back down to her slit. I trace my tongue over her lips, watching as her eyelids flutter closed. ‘Watch me when I make you come, baby p>
Her eyes snap open, and she hisses out a breath. ‘I love your dirty mouth.’ Her gaze falls to my lips. ‘And your fingers. And your tongue. But most of all,’ she whispers breathily, reaching for my crotch, ‘I love your rock-hard cock p>
‘I love you,’ I blurt. Her black eyes widen, and her mouth pops open.
Fuck.
Where did that come from?
Actually, I know exactly where it came from—ten perfect days in the Dominican, followed by months of pining, only to find that my perfect woman is not only sassy, sexy and stupidly successful in her own right, but also pregnant with my baby.
What’s not to love?
I’m head over fucking heels.
My fingers slow to almost a stop as our eyes bore into each other’s, hers alight with surprise. ‘I know it’s quick,’ I murmur, ‘but when you know, you know. And believe me—I know p>
Her lower lip trembles. ‘I love you too,’ she whispers, unbuckling my belt. ‘How could I not? You show up here when I need you the most. You and your talented tongue and dotty demands about moving in with you.’ She tugs my suit pants open, and my erection springs free. ‘I never wanted this. A boyfriend. A baby. I wanted to be the most successful Beckett.’ She wraps two hands around my shaft and pumps. ‘But now, what I want more than anything is a life with you p>
‘I’ll never make you choose between your business and me, baby.’ I pull my hand out of her panties, tug her dress up over her head, then toss it to the floor. ‘And I’ll do everything in my power to help further your business.’ I guide her over to the glass wall overlooking the glittering sea, pressing her hands up to the glass and pinning them there with mine. She spreads her legs for me in anticipation. ‘Look out there, Zara. There’s an entire world out there away from Dublin. And I’m going to deliver it to you on a plate. Whatever your heart desires. I’ll never make you choose between your dreams and mine p>
I position my tip at her entrance and slide into her slowly, stretching and filling her until she’s full of me. Her head rests back on my shoulder, and a sexy little whimper leaves her lips as she rocks back onto me. ‘Keep your hands there,’ I say, moving mine to her breasts, squeezing and kneading as I thrust into her over and over again.
‘Cole,’ she murmurs, as her core clenches around my cock. I drop a hand between her legs, drawing languid circles around her clit. ‘You’re so fucking good at that,’ she whispers.
‘That’s why you love me.’ I pepper tiny kisses over the back of her shoulder blade and up over her neck.
She loves me.
We’re going to make this work.
Whatever it takes.
But it won’t be easy.
Because while I’ll never make her choose, when her family find out about us—they undoubtably will.
But I can’t think about that right now because the way my woman is clenching my cock in a vice-like grip, I’m about five seconds from losing it. ‘Come for me,’ I growl, upping the pace, and pressing her clit.
‘Cole,’ she cries, as she shatters spectacularly, milking my dick until I’m spilling myself into her, shaking through the most transcendent sex of my life.
She loves me.
She loves me.
She fucking loves me.
When we finally still, I reluctantly slide out of her, watching as my cum drips between her thighs. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ There’s no disguising the awe in my voice. If I hadn’t already said those three little words, she would have guessed soon enough by the way she fucking mesmerises me.
She swipes a finger over the sticky mess between her legs, then pulls it up to her mouth. Our eyes lock as she sucks it slowly.
Yep. It’s official. I am head over fucking heels with Zara Beckett.