Illicit Intent, page 29
“Stay put for a second. They want to let this military transport land. Looks like someone gave your man a lift home.”
Calliope’s eyes lit, and she looked out the window as the C-130 hit the runway with a good deal less finesse than the gulf stream and came to a quick screeching halt across the tarmac. She stood and gathered her things, then waited at the open doorway for the airstairs to unfold. She looked every bit the socialite dilettante she had been portraying for the past two weeks. From the Brian Atwood stilettos to the Armani sheath to the Tom Ford sunglasses perched on her patrician nose, Calliope could have passed for a royal. She pulled an inconspicuous long chain from around her neck and quickly withdrew her engagement ring and wedding band and returned them to her finger—she had been acting the part of a single socialite. Just then Tox appeared in the open doorway of the transport opposite her jet. The sight of him never failed to steal her breath.
From his booted feet to the remnants of camo-paint on his face, Miller Buchanan was a warrior. His BDUs were wrinkled and dirty, his eyes tired. He filled the doorway of the plane, forearms pressed to either side of the opening. With his gaze locked with his wife’s, his expression morphed from fatigue to pure, unadulterated lust.
He made her feel like a goddess, a queen, a Siren.
He was a brute, a barbarian, a beast.
Opposites attract, indeed.
Tox jumped onto the tarmac with his duffle and made his way to the Gulfstream just as Calliope placed an ice pick heel on the last step. His nostrils flared as if picking up her scent—or preparing to charge—but he remained stock-still.
“I don’t want to get you dirty,” Tox growled.
“Yes you do,” she challenged.
Calliope’s bags hit the asphalt in a pile of Goyard and Hermes as Tox assaulted his willing wife. He pulled her up by her perfect bum and wrapped her legs around his narrow waist.
“We have an audience,” he smiled as he kissed her.
Calliope glanced over her husband’s shoulder and caught Cam and Steady hopping down from the plane and doing their best not to look like they were looking.
“Let’s go home and have a sex picnic.” She nibbled his ear.
Tox turned toward his Defender parked in the nearby lot, his love still in his arms.
“If that’s what I’m picturing in my mind, hell yes.”
“I’ve missed your bear.”
“If you’re not careful your panties are going to be smeared with greasepaint before we get to the car.”
“What panties?”
With a low growl, Tox deposited Calliope next to the car and turned to retrieve her scattered bags. She reached for his hand.
“Be right back,” he said, pulling out of her hold.
“Okay.”
She called after him. “Oh, by the way, the menu for the sex picnic is pickles and ice cream.”
He called over his shoulder, “I’m fine with whatever.”
He took five long strides, then stopped dead in his tracks. He faced her with a look of such boyish hope, Calliope’s heart swelled. She smiled. She could see his dimples through the smeared face paint. He walked back and stood in front of her.
“Baby?”
“Baby,” she confirmed. “Bear cub,” she amended with a smile.
Tox took one final step and without thought or hesitation, dropped to his knees in front of his wife. He seemed to hesitate for a moment then muttered, “fuck it” and pressed his face to Calliope’s middle, smearing her outfit in the process.
Calliope ran her fingers over his stubbled head. “I need you solid as a rock on this, Miller. The thought of giving birth to a…you is freaking me out a little.”
Tox looked up at her from the pavement.
“Oh my God, did that turn you on?”
He growled.
“I’m serious here, dammit.”
Tox rose to his full height. Without a word, he lifted her like a bride and carried her around to the passenger seat. He set her down and buckled her seatbelt, then he kissed her gently on the forehead, wiping away the smudge of paint with his thumb. He waited for her to meet his gaze.
“Nothing means more to me than you. Right now, nothing matters to me but you. You. I’ll be your rock for as long as you need me.”
Her eyes brimmed. Damn hormones. “I’ll need you forever.”
“Then forever it is.” Tox nodded once decisively, quickly retrieved her bags, and made his way around to the driver’s seat. He hopped in with the ease of a silent movie star kicking up his heels as he walked off into the sunset. With another squeeze to Calliope’s hand and a booming “hooyah” that had Cam and Steady glancing over, Tox drove his precious passengers home.
The End
Thank you to my editor, Shari Stauch, and my author manager, Sarah Spencer, for your invaluable assistance.
I would also like to thank Kara Horton, Barb Pulos, Emily Lane, Dr. Mary Meyer, Sunny Webster, Tonya Portell, Steven Fox, and my mom, Shelley Johnson. Without your input, Illicit Intent would not be what it is. And to all you readers, I extend my gratitude for your continued kind comments, reviews, and sharing my words and books with your friends.
If you’re enjoying the series, please follow along at www.debbiebaldwinbooks.com to be updated when the next book releases in 2021.
Debbie Baldwin is a successful print media and television writer. She is a graduate of Princeton University and the University of Virginia School of Law. Debbie and her husband live in Saint Louis, Missouri with their puggle, Pebbles. They have three children in college.
Debbie Baldwin, Illicit Intent
