Passionate Obsession by D.M. Mortier

Chapter Three

Mac

Present

“Boys, your dad is here!” Katia yelled from the front door.

It always gave me a punch to the gut every time she did that. From jump she never denied my presence in our sons’ lives. We walked deeper into the house I had bought for her and the boys five years ago. I could hear their excited scrambling to finish dressing from their bedroom above the stairs.

“How are you, Mac?”

Her soft voice did what it always did to me. Desire, yearning shot like a bullet through me. And I did what I always do when faced with the forbidden, the unattainable. I hid it. I hid the fact that I was barely getting enough air into my lungs, my increased heartbeat, or my cock pressing against my zipper trying to get closer to her. Years of practice had taught me all the tricks and the best ways to keep my responses to myself. It had initially been a shock to my barren soul the depth of feeling she inspired in me. For years, for decades. I had felt nothing. Nothing inspired me, nor affected or aroused my interest, and I had been in a state of extreme boredom, simply breathing and going through the motions until her. Until I rescued Kat and my sons five years ago.

She wore a lime green spaghetti-strapped sundress that did nothing to hide her voluptuous figure. Made even more pronounced by her tiny cinched-in waistline, the fitted skirt molded her shapely bottom but flared out to flirt mid-way down her thighs, leaving her endlessly long legs bare, and her feet encased in strappy sandals, displaying her sexy, red-polished toes. My breath hissed out from my suddenly too compressed chest. I breathed in and out slowly, a technique I had to employ every time I was in her presence because she was just that damn potent. The things this woman made me feel almost brought me to my knees. I brutally blanked my expression to hide my thoughts and what I was feeling from her. She wasn’t ready for what I was feeling.

“Are you okay, Mac? Are you hungry?”

That brought a smile to my lips. It didn’t alarm me anymore or cause me to think that she noticed my struggle. Her usual cheerful smile was firmly in place, and she was looking at me as though I were her brother or best friend. And really, that is what we had developed, a friendship based on mutual respect, trust and affection for each other. I often wondered if she even noticed that I was a man.

“Why does the solution to any of my problems always lead to your feeding me?” I was damn glad to get those few words out, trying to project a calm that I was far from feeling.

She smiled, that sweet smile that always captivated me, and patted me on my chest. “You’re a big guy. You’re always hungry. And a good meal always cures whatever ails.”

The feel of her hand, however briefly, on my chest had my cock flooding to full mass in hopeful anticipation. Just what I needed, sporting a boner at my kids’ soccer tryouts. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to block out the potency of her smile. Kat had the kind of smile that made a man feel like a man, feel like a primitive man. She was so damn feminine, so sweet. The desire to simply pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and take her to my cave was a constant mantra in my psyche. I wouldn’t even take her clothes off normally. I would use my K-Bar knife, my combat knife, to cut the clothes from her. And then I would feast. I would bury my face in her ample bosom, lick, bite and suck my way to her dewy curls and part her plump folds. I would…

“Admit it. The taste of my sweet apple tart with a cup of coffee always calms you.” She was still smiling up at me. Totally oblivious to the erotic thoughts playing out in my mind and her imminent danger because of them. I wanted to taste her sweet tart every fucking time I saw her.

“I know you think that you’re invincible.” She was fussing over me now, smoothing my shirt, brushing off lint that wasn’t there, and standing on the tips of her toes to pat my hair in place. She was always touching me. I had to admit that I loved when she did that.

“You work too hard, Mac,” she scolded. “God, you have almost a year’s worth of vacation days that you have yet to take. And you wonder why I worry…”

It felt as though I was a mass of emotions and sensations. The tone of her voice, her scent, her touch, everything I was feeling had my body humming with need. Despite how many times she did things like this or touched me so lovingly to show she cared about me, it still humbled me. It was a struggle to not translate her caring about me into her wanting me, loving me. I knew that she cared for me because I was the boys’ father and of course, we were friends. She showed not a flicker of interest in me as a man. Not wanting to dwell on the pitiful state of my unrequited love for her, I cleared my throat and steered the topic to our sons. That was safe. “How are the boys? Are they ready for soccer tryouts today?” They were five years old, soon to be six in a few months.

Katia laughed softly. “They’re so excited, Mac. They have been up since six this morning kicking that ball around in their room.” The smile that seemed to radiate from her entire body disappeared and was replaced with a more sober expression. “But they are even more excited because you’re going to be there. They miss you every time you go on your missions. You didn’t come last weekend.”

Was that disappointment I saw in her eyes? Wishful thinking, I know. “I was only away for a few weeks this time.” Yeah, but there were plenty of times that I had been gone for months. I hated leaving her and my boys, but there were so many of these dangerous fucks out there as well. I had responsibilities to so many people, and sometimes it was dangerous work that I couldn’t chance following me home. I had to ensure my work never reached my family.

She scoffed. “You take on the most dangerous cases in the office, and you’re always working. You might be out in the field a few days at a time for a case, but that only means that as soon as you get back you leave again in a day or two. They are getting older and notice that you’re with them a lot less lately.”

Before I could challenge that statement, the boys came barreling down the stairs, yelling at the top of their voices.

“Daddy!”

Their little sturdy bodies flew into my arms. I caught one in each arm and held them against my chest. Two little replicas of me. Even without the DNA test I’d gotten a friend to run when I rescued them, I would have recognized my sons. Although they were not identical, they had my facial features, chin, dimples, sapphire-blue eyes, and ink-black hair. They were miniatures of me, and I was fucking proud of that.

“I got a star on my drawing yesterday, Daddy,” Liam announced, still in his loud singsong voice and yelling directly into my ear.

“I got two stars for my reading!” Colin countered.

“I won my race in the pool!” That was Liam.

As they continued to try to one-up each other and tell all the amazing things they’d done since they spoke to me the day before, Katia and I efficiently gathered their gear, their snacks, and a change of clothes since they were going to spend the day with me. Our working together was well choreographed, and we did it without having to wait on the other for instruction or agreement. We worked well together. We were a unit.

“Very good, lads,” I murmured dutifully once I got a word into their excited chatter.

“No candy and no cola,” Katia warned.

I almost smiled at that. Our sons were like any normal kids getting hyped on sugar easily, but unlike normal children, they had unusual strength and speed that would make that combination undeniably dangerous and for damn sure expensive. We found that shit out the hard way. Thank God I wasn’t a poor man. “Got it,” I assured her quietly. “What are your plans today?”

She laughed softly. “Well, since Martha and Calvin did such a thorough cleaning before they left on vacation, I am free to spend the day taking care of me. Hair, nails, and facial, followed by an afternoon movie with a friend.”

Calvin and Martha, husband and wife, used to work for the Agency until I asked them to take on the duties of housekeeper and butler for my family. Roles they were used to because they were housekeeper and butler in most of the assignments they got from the Agency. They were also excellent marksmen, security experts, and two of the Agency’s top agents, the real reason they were here with my family. They were their bodyguards. And this was their first weekend off in the years they have been working for us.

I was smiling with the first part of her statement until she got to the friend part. “What friend?” I growled before I could stop myself. Could she hear the jealousy in my voice?

“You know Darrel. You guys work in different divisions, but he’s a nice guy.”

Darrel? Was she trying to get that asshole killed? I barely swallowed another growl and continued packing the boys’ stuff with a little more aggression than was necessary. I knew she wasn’t interested in dating a white man, while I, dumb sap that I was, loved her exotic rich chocolate skin tone that had intrigued me from the start. She didn’t say it, but she’d never once looked at me with any romantic interest or seemed to recognize the possibility of us in the five years I’ve known her. I had long since given up hope that I would somehow become immune, that somehow the yearning would lessen. Too bad she didn’t seem to be suffering as I suffer.

I knew that she had been tracking Treyton Willard’s life for a while, but she’d never expressed an interest in dating. I knew of men who had come on to her, but as soon as they found out about the boys, any budding interest came to a premature end. Thankfully, the boys made sure of it, and I never had to show my hand. I never had to reveal how closely I had her under surveillance. There was nowhere that she went, and no one that she spoke to, that I didn’t know about. A little obsessive I know, but I wasn’t going to apologize for it. It was hard enough competing with the saintly Trey, who was now a pastor in one of Atlanta’s largest Baptist churches; now I had this to contend with.

I sighed inwardly. I just couldn’t catch a damn break.

This new interest in Darrel was unsettling because Darrel knew about the boys, and he knew about me. Did she tell him that we have a platonic relationship? I was in hell not knowing. The way Darrel had been watching her, asking questions he had no business asking, I knew he wouldn’t be so easy to discourage. It would gut me if she went out with Darrel, an African American agent. I was seriously rethinking agreeing to letting her work outside the home. I should have kept her ass under lock and key. I was especially starting to regret getting her a job at the Bureau’s local office, the office that both Darrel and I worked.

“Mac?”

I still couldn’t respond to her. How did my life get this fucked up?

“You remember Darrel, right?”

The rage that engulfed me had me wanting to push my fist through the wall, my feet stomping a hole in the floor, my hands breaking every piece of furniture in the house, but of course, I did none of those things. I grunted. That’s it. I fucking grunted. I’ve felt impotent from the day I rescued her.

Ever since I saw her lying on that hospital bed, ethereal, beautiful, so incredibly feminine, I’d been lost. Other women were invisible to me. It had only been her from that moment. I’d felt like Adam to his Eve, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, and all that. Fuck, everything about her alerted and lit up my senses like the fucking Fourth of July. It was as though an invisible link had been formed between us, her senses calling to mine, clamouring to fuse with mine. I felt it so strongly, as if a loud white noise were exploding in my head, until I couldn’t understand how she hadn’t felt it too. And when she opened her eyes. Oh God, I was done. Those warm soulful glossy black depths framed with thick long lashes just reached inside me and fisted my soul. Her flawless chocolate skin made my fingers tingle to touch her, to feel her. And her lush hour-glass shape… Aw, man, if I ever got my hands on her, no way would I let her go. Until her, I had never even dated a black woman. Sure, I had been attracted to them but had never ventured outside my comfort zone to explore the attraction. Kat changed all of that. This was an attraction that I couldn’t ignore, I didn’t want to ignore.

I have come to know her better now. I wasn’t just enamored by the exotic hypnotism of her physical attributes. I was enamored with everything about her. In my heart she is mine, every fucking inch of her. Right here, right now, she made me feel so damn primitive. Barbaric. I admit it. I am fucking prehistoric when it comes to wanting to claim her.

Fuck Darrel! Fuck Treyton Willard! She is my woman. My mate.

I lifted the boys, filling my arms with them to stop myself from reaching for her.

“Daddy, let’s go.” Liam pulled on my hair to gain my attention.

“Have fun, guys!” Katia enthused.

I held her sparkling dark gaze for a few seconds longer than I usually did, willing her to see me. She gazed back at me with the same friendly, cheerful, you’re-my-best-friend look she always gave me. Yeah, I saw the admiration in her gaze too. It was hard not to see or know how grateful she was to me. She made a point of telling me often how much she admired me and how grateful she was for everything I did for her and the boys.

At first, it was ridiculously heady how much I loved how dependent she was on me. The glow in her gaze had made me feel ten feet tall. I was the man among men according to her. I ate that shit up. And before I knew it, everything I did was predicated on whether she would be pleased or not. She was pleased, but unfortunately that didn’t translate into desire, didn’t translate into love. My heart and stomach clenched with bitter disappointment.

“Kiss your momma, lads.” The words felt like acid on my tongue because I wanted a kiss from her too. Something hotter than that brief brush of her soft lips on their cheeks she gifted to them. I wanted those soft lips on mine.