Page 32 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)
In which Catriona steps into the maw of the monster.
Lucas…
The next day…
“It’s unbecoming of ye to look so happy.” Cat’s glaring up at me from the big, padded chair in Dr. MacTavish’s office.
“Not happy, lass. Relieved.”
The doctor’s putting together her equipment, swiftly sterilizing her scalpel while Ryan sets the tracker reverently on the tray, showing her how to place it.
“Of all my genius creations, this is my most brilliant,” he brags to her. He’s a big lad, with blue eyes and tousled dark hair that he fusses with when he thinks no one is looking.
Dr. MacTavish is unimpressed by his charm, though I can tell the device has her interest. “So, the intramuscular placement will keep it from being detected? There are some very sophisticated scanners out there. ”
“Aye, ye slide it under the quadricep here-” he points to the monitor, “and the angle along with the thickest part of the muscle bounces any scanner right back.”
Cat is turning a bit green, and I say, “Let’s move this along, aye? Less shop talk and more lidocaine.”
“Are ye ready, Catriona?” The doc smiles sympathetically. She’s one of the few in the clan with the Scottish bright red hair and freckles, an older, no-nonsense woman who’s stitched up plenty of MacTavishes.
“Grand, just grand,” my wife lies. “Let’s get to it, if ye dinnae mind.”
“Here we go, then.” The doctor’s hands are quick and experienced; she makes the smallest possible incision to implant the tracker and places a few tiny stitches to close it. Ryan’s watching the ultrasound monitor to track the placement and then turns to his laptop.
“Let’s light this wee beauty up, then!” He grins hugely, pointing to his laptop. “Perfect placement and it’s tracking just as it should. Aye, I am a genius.”
“Please, love. Just tell him he’s a genius and I can get ye out of here,” I whisper, kissing Cat’s cheek.
“You’re a genius, ye are,” she repeats. “Now turn the damn thing off until I’m ready to go. ”
Ryan looks a wee bit disappointed but closes his laptop.
We take a shower together back at the cottage, after I spend a great deal of time wrapping her bandage in plastic to be sure it won’t get wet.
“How many teams do ye have ready?” Cat asks, whilst calmly packing a few sensible outfits, leggings, trainers, and comfortable sweaters. She’d told me about the ridiculous, fussy clothes Dubois had insisted she wear.
“Sixteen,” I say. “We can deploy to any corner of the world within an hour.”
She shoves the bag off the bed and grabs me, her fists gripping my arms tightly, suddenly no longer so calm. “I need ye. Please. I need something to remember.”
“I know, sweet Cat. I know.” I roll her onto her back, feeling her desperation and it’s matching mine. I pull off her towel and thrust into her, carefully raising her bandaged thigh.
“Harder.” Her voice is like a sob.
“Love, your leg-”
“Harder!” she moans, and I do, holding her as I roll onto my back and spear up into her, feeling her coil around me like tight, wet silk.
“Ride me, my Cat, my good lass. Put your hands on my chest, dig in those nails, mark me. Fuck yourself on me and take what ye need.”
Holding her waist, I do most of the work, keeping her from straining her stitches. She’s not thinking, just moaning and gasping, little, desperate breaths as her pussy squeezes me tight. Groaning, I dig my heels into the mattress, bouncing her.
“So tight, but you’re taking me all like a good lass, aren’t ye?” I grunt. “Who do ye belong to?”
“I belong to ye, I do,” she gasps.
“Take what ye need, love.” My thumb is on her clit, pressing and circling the slippery little button. Her fingernails dig into my skin, stinging and I want it, I want to wear her marks.
Surging up, I kiss her, mouths messy and colliding, wet and needy and when I push her clit against the hairy base of my cock, she stiffens and clamps down on me. Moaning, crying out, a sound of such relief. The heat of her, the wet, slick squeeze and any self-control I have is gone.
“That’s my good lass, milk my cock dry…” White heat burns at the base of my spine, and we’re fused together, mouth to mouth, my cock deep inside her and I never want to let her go. I carefully settle her legs around me and wrap her tightly in my arms in the warmth of our bed .
Catriona…
We’re sitting in my lab.
“It’s time.” Lucas says.
Mum and Kenna had been with us earlier, then hugged me, red-eyed, and left. Michael and my father are setting up surveillance.
Now it’s just Lucas and me.
“Aye.” Picking up my phone, I scroll to the text that popped up yesterday from an unknown number and reply.
Little dots appear. He’s read it.
The bastard makes me wait.
Ten minutes later, his text appears.
My hand shakes for a minute.
Lucas pulls me into his arms, tight, like he could absorb me into his body and I wish I could, I wish I could stay safe inside him, protected.
We finally, reluctantly pull away. “One last thing,” I say miserably. I switch my wedding ring, the humble band he’d bought for me in a little market in Morocco, to my right finger. He lifts my hand and kisses it.
I leave through the back door of the building that houses my lab, cutting across the parking lot and through an alley, making it look like I’m sneaking out.
The SUV is there at the curb of the Bluestone Tower, motor idling.
A man in a severe black suit steps out the moment he sees me and opens the back door.
Once I get in there, I’m on my own.
I slide into the leather seat. He waits for me to fasten my seatbelt and shuts the armored door with a heavy thud.
I dinnae look behind me as the car pulls away.