Stunned, Sasha could only stare back.

“There,” she said, giving the cross a pat and him a kiss on the jaw before she scooted down and turned on her side to face him. She propped a hand under the side of her head. “This will protect you.”

“Thank you.” He wished like hell he could give it back; he didn’t deserve something so precious to her. “How long should I wear this?”

“It’s yours to keep.” She traced the outline of the cross with the tip of her finger.

“Are you sure? I’ve never seen you without it.”

She nodded. “The first Poppy Holland gave it to her husband to keep him safe when he had to sail back to the Old World. The one time he took it off, he got sick and died.”

He grimaced. Perhaps that was what he should do. Take the damned thing off and wait for death. “Do you have any stories about any Poppy Holland that end happily?”

“No,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

“Surprising, that.” He gazed up at the ceiling for a moment. “Hold on—you said husband. Holland women are allowed to marry?”

“Who said we weren’t?”

Sasha raised his brows.

She pursed her lips. “Maybe it’s because no one’s been man enough to take the Holland name as his own since Marcus.”

“I see,” he said, even though he didn’t at all. Why the hell did it matter who had what last name?

“There’s always been a Poppy Holland in Holland Springs and there always will be. No matter how much she wants things to be different,” she said flatly, her body tensing.

“Come here, love,” he murmured, drawing her down to him and refusing to let her shut him out. “What’s the criteria for being the newest Poppy?”

“Be the first-born daughter.” Rose snuggled against him, her bare breasts pressed against his skin.

“So Summer has to come back—not just for Ivy, but because it’s tradition in Holland Springs?” He idly played with the curls in her hair. Curls that not so long ago had draped his thighs as her clever mouth did things that made him groan and fist the bed covers.

“Summer doesn’t give a damn about tradition, not that it matters.”

“Maybe that will change.”

“It won’t.” She flicked her tongue against one of his nipple rings. “Let’s have some wine.”

It sounded like a fine idea to him, but he didn’t relish the thought of leaving her very delectable body to venture downstairs. She leaned across his body, surprising the hell out him when she came back with two glasses filled with red liquid.

“You can toast.”

He twisted his head around, eyes widening when he saw the dusty bottle sitting on the bedside table. “How in the holy hell did that get into my room?”

“Magic,” Rose said, her breath hot against his skin as she nibbled a path along his shoulder.

He jerked his head back, his body rising to her silent invitation. Jesus, his neck would be suffering from whiplash tomorrow morning. “Wicked woman,” he said with a smile. He didn’t give a damn how the bottle of wine or glasses came to be in his room. She bit his nipple and he groaned. “Have mercy.” Especially when she did that.

She tipped the glass to his lips and he drank deeply, then she did the same.

“I need you inside of me,” she said, her voice low and seductive as the wine worked its way through his body, fueling his desire for her.

Plucking the wine glasses from her hands, he set them to the side and rolled her on her back. Rose parted her legs and her hands drifted down, covering his cock with a condom.

“Magic,” she whispered again in answer to his obviously astonished face.

The necklace pulled tight as their mouths fused and he thrust inside of her, the snug fit nearly his undoing. “Sweet Jesus.” He lifted her leg over his arm and thrust again, closing the eyes to the pleasure and her throaty moans.

“Sasha.” She pulled him to her, the taste of wine on her tongue intoxicating.

Again and again he moved, deeper and deeper. Out of control as she met each thrust, her fingers digging in his back and shoulders. Acute lust and desire swept through him as her lush body welcomed his. He licked her nipples, smiling in complete male satisfaction as they hardened.

But it wasn’t enough. He sat back on his thighs, taking Rose with him. “Hold on to me.”

Finding a rhythm that seemed to please her, he listened as she chanted his name. It sounded like a prayer, a plea. An incantation.

He couldn’t speak, could barely think as she wrapped herself around him. Plump hips rocked upon him and his mouth watered. She was so damn soft in all the right places, so sweetly perfect for him that he wanted to devour her. To taste every inch of her creamy skin until it was firmly branded on his tongue. His soul.

Rose tightened around his cock and cried out.

He cursed, guttural and long as his own orgasm swept over him in erotic waves. Panting, he let his head fall back, reveling in the small kisses she pressed to his throat.

“So sleepy,” she whispered.

He couldn’t have agreed more, but he was too damn tired to say the words. He stretched out on the bed, keeping himself inside of her and closed his eyes. “I’ll clean…in a minute.”

Rose’s fingertips lightly touched his mouth. “Hush.”

Smiling against them, he exhaled and let sleep claim him.

Chapter Seventeen

Sasha woke to a pounding in his head. He rubbed the heel of his hand in his eye, trying to clear the fog from his brain. He’d only had a mouthful of wine last night, but the pounding intensified. Apparently, homebrews were extremely powerful. Jesus. He’d never touch the stuff again.

Grabbing a pillow, he pressed it over his face. “Make it stop.”

Rose stirred beside him. “What in the world?”

“Hangover,” he said to the pillow. “The pounding won’t go away.”

“Maybe if I answer the door it would.”

He turned his head, looking at her from beneath his pillow. “That some kind of witchy remedy?”

“No, it’s what people do when somebody knocks on it.” She frowned and threw back the covers.

Now that he thought about it, his head wasn’t actually pounding, his eyes didn’t feel like someone was stabbing him in them, nor was his mouth all cottony. Actually he felt amazing. He tossed the pillow across the room.

Someone pounded on the door again.

He winced. “That’ll wake up Ivy, inconsiderate ass.”

“I hope not. I was up with her a couple of hours ago.” She waved her hand. “I put the baby monitor over there. So far, so good.”

Sasha tugged on her arm. “Get over here and warm me, woman.” The doorbell rang and he let go of her. “That had better be someone with a check for millions,” he grumbled.

“I’ll get it.” She rose from the bed, a goddess of the morning with black curls streaming down her back and pale skin revealed with movement. Her perfect breasts bounced as she grabbed the quilt from the end of the bed and wrapped it around her.

“Not in that you’re not.” He jumped up from the bed and scooped Rose up, quilt and all.

“Put me down,” she laughingly protested.

She felt so right in his arms, so good and as she gazed up at him, her blue eyes radiated happiness. “Never. I quite like sweeping you off your feet,” he teased.

The pounding on the door started up again and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it.”

“I’m a grown woman.”

He gazed appreciatively at her. “I’m well aware of that.”

She blushed and wrapped her arms around his neck. The quilt dipped lower, exposing her cherry-red nipples to the room and him. “I can also open doors without help.”

Lowering her to the bed, he nuzzled the valley between her breasts. “Let’s ignore them, shall we?” He tongued the tip of one, then placed an open mouth over it and began to lightly tug.

“Sasha, please…” She grabbed his head, but he noticed that she didn’t stop him. The pounding started up again. “Sasha, it’ll wake up the baby.”

Kissing her breast one last time, he stood and strode to the window. He shoved it open and yelled, “Who goes there?”

“What are you doing?”

“Circumventing leaving this room while finding out who our would be invader is.” When no answer came, he smiled and gestured to the window. “Now aren’t you glad we didn’t leave?”

“I need to speak with Rose,” a voice called from below. “This is Sheriff Turner.”

The cross seemed to burn against his skin. Not this. Not now. They were supposed to wait until after he’d sent the samples to his uncle.

Rose bolted upright in bed. “Oh God, something must be wrong with Skye or Summer.” She shoved past him and out of the room.

“Fuck my life.” Sasha took off after her, then had to turn back around, because he was stark naked. He quickly located a pair of pants and ran down the hall, desperate to reach Rose.

He could barely make out what the sheriff was saying as he drew closer.

“Grace period’s run out, Rose…”

The wind picked up as Turner handed her a large manila envelope. “You’ve got the weekend to vacate the property.”

“Foreclosure? B-but Lorelei agreed to an installment plan. I’m supposed to sign the papers and make the first payment today. Aren’t there procedures for this? I thought we’d go to court or something.”

Son of a bitch. The urge to pick up a rock and hurl it at the Sheriff’s mouth to shut him up nearly overwhelmed him. Sasha jogged down the stairs, not missing the death glare from David Turner at his appearance.

“Sorry, honey.” Turner shifted his stance. “I volunteered to bring it out to you. Jason Everett tried to talk one of the new boys into letting him ride along, but I persuaded them otherwise.”

“What about my store?”

The sheriff’s face flushed and his eyes narrowed in on Sasha. “The Powers That Be haven’t gotten around to that piece of business, yet.”

Rose turned to look at Sasha, black curls whipping around her lovely face. She fisted the quilt tighter in her hand. “Did you know about this?”

“Know about it?” the sheriff said with a harsh laugh. “According to Everett, Romanov gave Harrison and him pointers on how to get you out faster.”

“You helped them?” Devastation filled her eyes, crippling him. “I can’t believe I fell—” Her mouth snapped shut.

There was nothing Sasha could say to defend himself. It was better this way. Last night had been a mistake of epic proportions. And this morning had almost been a repeat. A brief journey into insanity.

She squared her shoulders and turned back to the sheriff. “I’m glad you were the one to give me the news, David.”

“Rose, if you and the little one need a place to stay, Missy and I have an extra room. No charge and no time limit,” Turner said. The walkie-talkie secured at his shoulder went off. He leaned his head down and spoke to the dispatcher.

“Tell Missy thank you, but I’ve got a place.”

“Where’s that? I heard you’ve got the apartment over your store rented.”

“I’d rather not say.” Slowly, she turned and walked away from them. Her hair slid forward as she brushed past Sasha, hiding her face.

Sasha clenched his hands into fists, watching as she shuffled up the stairs.

Once Rose was out of earshot, he stepped in the doorway and scowled at the Sheriff. “Prepositions not your strong point? You weren’t supposed to serve Ms. Holland until after the samples were sent off. Not before.”

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter, you cold-hearted son of a bitch.” The sheriff crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side. “Ms. Holland, my ass. If I could arrest you for taking advantage of her, I would.”

Sasha looked down his nose and a raindrop hit him on the cheek. “Careful there, Sheriff. Would hate to see you out of a job.”

“One day men like you will get exactly what they deserve. And I hope to God I’m around to see it.” The sheriff jogged down the stairs and got back in his patrol car.

One day? The man just had a front row seat.

The car disappeared in the curve. It began to rain harder, the tops of pine trees lining the road swaying from side to side.

Sasha closed the door and ran up the stairs, nearly stumbling into Blackbeard.

The beast hissed at him.

“Out of my way, damn cat.”

Blackbeard ignored him, taking every opportunity to try to trip him as he jogged up the grand staircase.

The cross pendant felt tight around his neck, like a noose. One he deserved.

When he got to the final landing, he slowed his pace, trying to sort through all the possible things he could say to her. But “whoops, didn’t think to mention the bit about helping the town was important” wasn’t going to cut it.

The door to Ivy’s nursery was ajar and he stepped inside. He paused in the middle of the room, listening to Rose as she sang softly to Ivy. The baby’s hands reached for Rose’s curls, grabbing them and cooing.

Regret hit him hard in the gut. This was what his life had come to—targeting an innocent woman and baby in order to save his mother. At least Rose had a place to go. That much he could be thankful for. He would be the lowest of gutter scum if he’d made her completely homeless. Not that he was far off.

“Did we wake her?”

The lullaby abruptly stopped.