Long Slow Tease: Penance Part 4

Laughing, Wyatt pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "I kind of like her sa.s.sy side. Life will never be dull with Mich.e.l.le."

"Amen to that. Have a seat." Mich.e.l.le's dad nodded to Marshall. "You too, Marshall. I think you would benefit from this as much as Mich.e.l.le and Wyatt. Your dad is the one who first told me about this."

Mich.e.l.le pulled Wyatt down onto the couch with her, hiding a smile as he sat up straighter when her father looked at him. While she had no idea what her dad had up his sleeve, she was eternally grateful to him for turning what could have potentially been a terrible situation into something salvageable. She wanted Wyatt to like her family and wanted them to like him as well because she wasn't going to give him up. She couldn't.

He was her life now.

Even as she had that thought, a memory of making out with Owen on this same couch began to intrude and sent a wave of unexpected pain through her. Why couldn't she move past Owen's death? Widowers re-married all the time, why couldn't she do the same without feeling like she betrayed Owen in the worst way possible, by loving another man more than she loved him?

The truth shattered her and she took in a deep breath, frightened that her father would see he sudden tears. Wyatt, as always, seemed attuned to her like no one else, and he put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close. She focused on him, on how wonderfully alive and virile he was, how solid and protective. He would die for her; did he know that she would do the same?

Her father leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "As Mich.e.l.le knows, I believe in feeding the soul."

Wyatt exchanged a look with her but she shrugged, having no idea where he was going with this.

"There's a program I'd like all three of you to consider donating some time to, and Mich.e.l.le I'd like you to take some time to check it out and let me know if it's worth looking into funding through our foundation."

"Okay, but what does it have to do with Wyatt and Marshall?"

"Because we're the kind of people who aren't happy unless we're providing some kind of service for others. We need work that not only challenges us, but feeds our soul. I believe the military fit that role for all three of you, gave you something bigger to fight for, a way to make a difference in the world."

She glanced at Wyatt out of the corner of her eye. "So are you going to stop dancing around the topic and just let me know where it is you want us to go and what you want us to do?"

Her father grinned. "You know, one of the best things that came out of you joining the military is that you don't beat around the bush anymore. You come straight to the point and I appreciate that."

"Dad..."

"Right. This organization, The Front Line, is run by and for ex-military. They're a group of first responders that go into different disaster situations to bring aid. Because of your training and your experience in a wartime situation you all are uniquely suited for handling crisis situations in ways our civilian forces never will be."

Wyatt nodded. "My father used to be a sheriff before he retired and I'd sit around and listen to him and his friends bullshi...uh...talk about their day. One of the guys, Calvis, was my idol. No matter what, he was calm and collected when the world was falling down around him. He'd done some time with the Marines back in Vietnam and it had changed him. When a riot happened at the local jail, my dad and his men were called in for backup. Calvis and my dad got cut off from the rest of the group, and my Dad swears that even as a dozen p.i.s.sed off inmates were chasing them through the jail, Calvis was as cool as a cuc.u.mber, telling my dad where to go and what to do. They ended up getting to safety, and when the local paper interviewed Calvis the next day, his only quote was 'I've been in worse situations', like having a bunch of p.i.s.sed off prisoners on his a.s.s was no big deal."

They all laughed about that and Marshall spoke up. "I tried working in the civilian world when I came back. I found out that I have zero tolerance for people who freak out over stupid s.h.i.t. I mean, a crisis isn't when the copier runs out of toner. No one's going to die because you can't get your presentation printed. That job didn't last long."

"Their loss, our gain," Mich.e.l.le's father said and focused his gaze back on Mich.e.l.le and Wyatt.

"I'd like you, all three of you, to consider working with this group. One of the guys that runs it says it's like being back in the military but with less bulls.h.i.t."

Wyatt shifted next to her and she turned to watch him, caressing his profile with her gaze. Even here, in front of her father and Marshall, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how much she loved him, wanted him. It didn't surprise her in the least to see Wyatt's interest in what her father had to say. Wyatt was the kind of man who thrived when he was helping others, and while she had the clinic where she volunteered to give her the satisfaction of volunteering, he really didn't have anything that filled that hole in his life.

Holding Wyatt's hand, Mich.e.l.le turned her attention to her father. "What kind of work do they do?"

"They're mostly a first-in and last-out type of group. For example, they were one of the first groups of responders on the scene after the floods down in North Carolina. They do everything from search and rescue, to setting up shelters, to helping people rebuild their homes and doing construction to make places handicap accessible for our veterans that need it. Last time I checked, they have groups set up all over the US, including two in Texas. One in Austin and another down by Houston."

Mich.e.l.le placed her hand on Wyatt's knee, immediately drawing his attention. "Sounds like they're the kind of people that could occasionally use a master carpenter."

"Is that what you do?" Mich.e.l.le's father asked in surprise.

Wyatt twitched then nodded. "Yes, sir. I wouldn't say I'm a master, that's my dad, but I haven't had any complaints about my work."

Mich.e.l.le had to look down to hide her scarlet flush, trying to not think about that wonderful queening chair he made her. Since then Wyatt had begun to work on his second piece of equipment for her. But he was keeping it a secret. He'd even gone as far as to installing a lock on his workroom door that she couldn't pick. She hated surprises and wanted to know what he was making, but he wouldn't tell her.

Her father wrote some things down on two pieces of paper. He then stood and came around the side of his desk, handing the sheets to both men. "This is the contact info for the organization. Take your time and by no means feel pressured into this. I just think it's a great group of men and women who could always use a few more hands. Never a shortage of people out there in the direst of straights."

Wyatt scanned the sheet then handed it to her. She briefly looked the info over while her father said, "Mich.e.l.le, if I could have a word with you for a moment, alone, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course."

Catching Wyatt's hand, Mich.e.l.le gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll meet you by the dance floor, okay?"

"I'll save the last dance for you, Dom...darling."

She almost giggled at his slip in front of her father. "I won't be long. Don't let any of those floozies out there carry you off."

"You know you're the only floozie I let carry me off."

She went to punch him in the shoulder, but he easily blocked her, then brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles before releasing her, making her give a rather besotted sigh that made all the men chuckle. With a definite saunter in his step he went out the door with Marshall in tow. He always knocked her out cold with the simplest of gestures and this was no different. Her skin tingled from the heat of his lips and she suddenly wanted him inside of her, now.

It wasn't until her father cleared his throat that she realized not only was her hand still floating in the air as if Wyatt held it, but she was also staring at a closed door.

"Sorry," she muttered and sat back on the couch. Her dad sat next to her and the look in his eyes was incredibly sad. Worried, she touched his hand and said, "Dad? Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything is just right." He blinked rapidly and she was afraid he was going to cry.

"You're scaring me."

"You've been alone for so long, Mich.e.l.le, isolating your heart from the world. I feared that you would never let another man love you."

She bit her lower lip and tried to fight back the easily triggered guilt. In a f.u.c.ked up way, it was as if her version of PTSD was guilt. Like she'd been spared the nightmares and waking terrors only to focus solely on feeling like she was the s.h.i.ttiest person in the history of the world. Wyatt definitely deserved better than her, but she couldn't let him go.

"Thanks, Dad."

He tucked his hand beneath her chin and raised her eyes to his. "Mich.e.l.le, it's okay to love Wyatt. He's head over heels for you. Reminds me of how your mother and I used to be."

The pain in his gaze undid her, and she blinked back tears. She didn't know who was more surprised by the words that came out of her mouth next, her or her father. "If you loved her so much, then why did you cheat on her?"

He froze and stared at her. This was the first time she'd ever confronted him this directly about it. She'd always been a daddy's girl, but that didn't mean she didn't love her mother a even if she was an evil b.i.t.c.h a and she could empathize with her mother about how it felt to be betrayed. The thought of Wyatt cheating on her made her soul wither.

"It was a long time ago, Mich.e.l.le. I've done everything I can think of to earn her forgiveness, but she just won't let go of her anger."

"Then why don't you divorce her? Save you both the sorrow of being married."

His gaze hardened and he resembled the Senator who made grown men cry during questioning more than her dad. "Because I love her and I regret with all my heart that I made her doubt my love, that I gave into my own stupid egotistical needs and hurt her. I will stay with her until she forces me to leave."

"But your relationship is so messed up!"

"Honey, that's between your mother and I."

"No, it's not. Do you think we don't see how much it hurts both of you to be together? Maybe a trial separation would help."

"Absolutely not. I've never given up on your mother and I won't do it now. You may not understand it, but I love her. Someday she'll learn to let go of her anger just like you learned how to let go of your guilt, thank G.o.d."

"What?"

"I know I've told you this a thousand times, but I'm going to say it once more. What happened to Owen wasn't your fault. He would want you to be happy, and he would want you to get married and have a mess of children. The sight of you slowly fading away killed me. That was why your grandfather and I persuaded your mother to let you go into the military like you wanted. I knew that you needed to do something that would take your mind off yourself, something that would give you a purpose, but that time has pa.s.sed." He grasped her hand and searched her face. "Let Wyatt love you, Mich.e.l.le. I know you won't be surprised that I had his background researched."

"Why break a running habit?" she said in a dazed voice.

The emotional punches that her father was throwing at her had her head spinning. She could barely formulate a thought, let alone face the truth of his words. It wasn't often that her personal history was re-written, but now that she knew about her father's dedication to her mother, she found herself looking at her memories from when she was younger with the eyes of an adult.

The thought that she held onto her guilt like her mother held onto her anger scared the s.h.i.t out of her.

"He's a good man, Mich.e.l.le, but I don't have to tell you that. Your mother may not like him because he isn't some spoiled trust fund brat, but I'm happy that you found each other." He took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Your mother has been having some issues that you're not aware of. I've kept them from you because I didn't want you to have to deal with anymore drama, but you need to know that she really does love you. I know she doesn't talk about her upbringing much, but please believe me when I say it's remarkable how well adjusted she is considering her past. She's just...she doesn't know how to deal with her own issues and I'm afraid she's turned to outside sources for comfort."

Before she could reply and ask her dad what the h.e.l.l he meant, her oldest brother, Kevin, burst into the room. His normally pale face was flushed beneath his thinning blond hair and he looked more p.i.s.sed off than she'd ever seen him, except for that time that she'd stolen his car keys and crashed his Camaro when she was fourteen.

"Mich.e.l.le, Wyatt needs you right now."

She surged up from the couch, horrible scenarios racing through her mind at the speed of light. "Is he okay?"

Kevin braced his arm across the door, blocking her. "Mom cornered him. I swear to G.o.d we don't know how she managed to do that. We promised dad we would keep her away."

"What did she do?" Mich.e.l.le bit out with anger bursting through her and mixing with her building panic.

"I overheard the end of it. She was trying to pay Wyatt to leave you, Mich.e.l.le. Twenty-five thousand dollars to break up with you. I swear she's lost her f.u.c.king mind. We knew she was getting bad, but not like this."

She had only taken a couple of steps in the direction Kevin indicated before he and her father caught her. "What? Why would she do that? I'll kill her. Where's Wyatt?"

Her father released her and met Kevin's gaze. "Where's your mother?"

"She ran off to her rooms after I busted up her little chat. Wyatt must have nerves of f.u.c.king steel because all he said was that he was sorry she felt that way, but that he loves Mich.e.l.le and he's never going to leave her."

Mich.e.l.le walked up to her brother and fisted his jacket. "Where is Wyatt?"

"Follow me. Your sisters-in-law went all mama bear on Mom and chased her off. Right now they're probably guarding him where I left them in the solarium."

She removed her heels and ran down the hall towards the other side of the house, her heart feeling like it would explode from sheer worry. When she rounded the corner and made her way through the hanging plastic and the door she quickly spotted Wyatt sitting on a padded wicker chair, sipping what looked like coffee. Her sisters-in-law practically bristled with fury and when they looked up at Mich.e.l.le their eyes grew wide.

"Wyatt," she gasped out, frozen in fear that her mother had irreparably harmed their relationship.

Wyatt stood so abruptly he tipped over the chair behind him. "Sweetheart, it's okay. Gonna take more than a bitter old woman to chase me off."

To her shame, tears flowed down her cheeks and she tried to speak, but she couldn't form any words. Wyatt strode across the room to her and picked her up in his arms like she was the one needing comfort, not him. Instantly she felt better even as embarra.s.sment filled her at knowing her sisters-in-law were watching them.

"Ladies," Wyatt said in his s.e.xy rumble, "would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

Chapter 4.

Wyatt's gut churned with both fury and embarra.s.sment as Mich.e.l.le cried in his arms. He didn't pay any attention to Mich.e.l.le's sisters-in-law but he did notice they had straightened the chair and left when he once again took a seat in the oversized, padded chair. The woman in his arms was heartbroken and he wished her brother had not heard what that old b.i.t.c.h said. If Wyatt had his way he would have hashed it out with Mrs. Sapphire in private. Instead he'd been subjected to everyone's pity and anger at Mich.e.l.le's mother, and it had hurt his woman deeply.

Now he sat helpless as his Domina trembled in his arms and sobbed. Wyatt couldn't imagine how he would feel if his parents betrayed him like Mich.e.l.le's mom had. Going behind her daughter's back and trying to pay a man off to leave her, that was just low. But his anger had no place in the here and now. Despite all the bulls.h.i.t he'd been through, including his f.u.c.king PTSD panic attack, none of it mattered if Mich.e.l.le was hurting.

"Easy, baby, I've got you and I'm not going anywhere," he whispered against her forehead as he arranged her on his lap.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered back. "I had no idea, I swear to you, Wyatt, I...why would she do that? What the h.e.l.l is wrong with her?"

He stopped her protests with his lips, keeping his touch extra gentle as he explored her soft mouth. This wasn't a carnal kiss, but rather his way of trying to soothe her. She responded, reluctantly at first, then with more aggression until she fisted her hand fisted in his hair. While he might have wished to keep the kiss gentle, she obviously wanted something different from him. Without thinking, he responded to her demands, his pleasure in giving her what she desired increasing his own arousal tenfold. When she bit his lip hard enough to almost break the skin he jerked back, then laughed.

Her eyes had deepened to a rich sapphire that reminded him of the ocean far away from land. Confusion filled her beautiful gaze along with a healthy dose of l.u.s.t. Her temper flared and her pupils tightened. "You find something funny?"

Nodding, he grinned at her and watched her become more irritated by the second. "Before you decide to deck me, hold still for a second."

He moved his hand towards her hair slowly, careful not to disturb the gorgeous monarch b.u.t.terfly fanning its wings as it sat on her blonde curls like a living jewel. Despite his careful approach the b.u.t.terfly took flight and circled his head before flying off to a darker part of the solarium. When he looked back at Mich.e.l.le he noted the smile hovering around her kiss-swollen lips and relaxed.

"So is this the inspiration for your b.u.t.terfly room?"

Blushing slightly, she nodded. "I got this room for my sixteenth birthday."

"Wow. I got a piece of c.r.a.p truck."

"I would have loved a piece of c.r.a.p truck. Unfortunately, I'd crashed my brother's beloved Camaro and as part of my punishment wouldn't get a car until I was eighteen." She gave him a grumpy look. "I think my dad did it just so he could keep me around the house. Like I could get away with anything with my a.s.shole brothers ratting me out."

"Isn't that why G.o.d made brothers? Ask my sister about it. She'll tell you what a terrible pain in the a.s.s I was in high school. If any guy showed more interest in her than I deemed appropriate me and my buddies would have a 'talk' with him. The only guy who didn't let my threats of an a.s.s whupping run him off is now my brother-in-law." He smiled at the memory of the skinny blond soph.o.m.ore kid standing his ground in front of three football playing seniors. "When a man's set his mind on a woman nothing and no one is going to scare him off. Not even someone's mother."

"Wyatt, I'm so sorry."

He couldn't resist smoothing her hair back from her face. "You know, I'm kind of insulted."

Instantly her eyes welled with tears. "I know, and you should be. What she said was horrible."

"Yeah. I thought I was worth at least a million if someone was going to try to bribe me. Twenty-five thousand dollars is offensive. That isn't going to get you s.h.i.t nowadays."

"Idiot," she sighed at him but he could hear the laughter in her voice.

"But I'm your idiot. Now, enough of the sad stuff. I don't know about you, but I've had enough sorrow to last me five lifetimes."

"True." She wiggled a bit in his lap but made no move to stand on her own. "You owe me a dance."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you ready to rejoin the party?"

"No, I have a better idea."