Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Read online

  “I couldn’t help it!” she exclaimed. “When I saw the chance, I just went for it. He’s always so ready with a practical joke,” she growled. “And while I think this rivalry you two have is silly, you are my husband so I kind of had to. Family loyalty and all.”

  “Are you essentially saying that you were bad—but it’s my fault?”

  She hadn’t seen it that way—her reaction made that clear—but his eagerness to take the blame gave her the perfect wifely out.

  “If the shoe fits, Jason Cameron,” she drawled.

  “Okay, well, don’t keep me in suspense.” He chortled. “What did I make you do?”

  When she started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt and hemming and hawing like a pro, he knew his wife was becoming a champion mischief-maker.

  “Well, it’s more about Domineau than Rafe.”

  His eyes went wide, and he felt his brows shoot up. Tangling with Domineau took serious balls. He grinned and encouraged her to continue.

  “You see, well … oh god,” she moaned. “There’s this homeless woman and Stephanie.” She was waving her hands as the lip biting intensified.

  Stephanie and a homeless woman? What does this have to do with Rafe and Domineau? He was confused and trying to piece together what she was having so much trouble saying.

  “So Heather thought since she was a warrant officer and all but that wasn’t enough. And then I sort of stepped in it.”

  Not a single word made any sense, but Cam sensed she was near the core issue, so he hung on every word.

  She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and earnestly griped, “You said she had an extra room, right? And that she was never home.”

  Oh wait. She was starting to make sense. “Are you referring to Rafe and Domineau with the obvious and laughable sneaking around?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Exactly! Nobody is fooled, right?”

  He scoffed. “Read the book, saw the original movie, bored by the sequel. Does that answer your question?”

  “They needed a place to stay—near a school. Domineau had an extra room. All I did was suggest maybe she should consider roommates.”

  Without a clue what she was talking about, he still got the gist, fixated on the word roommates, and started laughing like hell. Smoke and roommates! Bah!

  “Um, Cameron. I’m afraid Domineau was not pleased. Red had to step in.”

  Uh-oh. He needed more information. Information he could understand.

  “Baby, start by telling me who ‘they’ is. Who needs a place to stay near a school? Fill in the blanks, please.”

  “Oh, okay. Right.” She squirmed on his lap. “Woman named Becca Tate and her daughter, Kori. She’s the homeless vet who was sleeping in the car behind the diner. Heather is organizing some outreach to help.”

  He nodded. The homeless vet situation was something they reacted to without hesitation.

  “She was an Army Warrant Officer, and while I don’t know what that means, some others thought that sort of experience would be perfect for Stephanie’s assistant.”

  “Oh, I get it now,” he murmured. “You guys found her a job. That’s so cool, honey.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she continued a bit more enthusiastically. “Kori is going into seventh grade, so they need to live in the school district. That means the rooms in the compound are off the table. Everyone else has a full house. Except Domineau. So I thought since she had the room and everything …”

  “That you’d fuck with them by forcing her to play nice with others.” He held up his hand. “Give me five, Mrs. Cameron. Five for a well-played fuck you.”

  Lacey hauled her hand back and then slapped his so hard it stung.

  “Are you mad? Maybe I went too far,” she murmured. “It’s Rafe’s fault.”

  Cam had to snigger. “I thought you said it was my fault.”

  She graced him with her patented Lacey Cameron sweeter-than-sugar smirk. “It’s both your faults, then. All this back and forth with the stunts and jokes. He’s bigger than you! Get over it.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He laughed. “Nope. After two years, Mrs. Cameron, I finally know when female logic is being applied. Obscuring the subject won’t excuse what you did. Rafe and I are grown-up boys. We act like idiots. The practical jokes will never stop.”

  His adorable wife knew she was losing ground and muttered under her breath. “The crate of spinach was the last straw.”

  He had to give her that one. Rafe was a dick for sending Ben over to the house with a gigantic crate of fresh spinach, which quickly rotted in the sweltering heat. Still, it was funny.

  “I thought the last straw was the Popeye tattoo he put on Dylan’s leg.”

  His Ponytail squinted and growled at the reminder. She’d had a full conniption fit and hadn’t given a flying fuck that the design was temporary. He and Drae made the mistake of laughing, and holy god, had she ever gone up one side and down the other. Watching Sinjin shield his balls from Lacey’s toothless bark was hilarious.

  She switched gear. It wasn’t really about him, Rafe, or the childish rivalry they were never going to let go of. He wasn’t entirely sure where the impulse came from although a good guess would be the shared experience of losing a mother. That was the easiest way to explain Lacey’s interest in Domineau Rivera’s well-being.

  “I watch her, you know. When we all get together. She wants so badly to be one of the girls. It breaks my heart, Cameron,” she whimpered.

  He stroked her back. “Why?”

  “Because she is one of the girls!” Lacey didn’t like to raise her voice unless absolutely necessary. She stopped and calmed down. After a bit more back rubbing and a few deep inhales, she sought his gaze.

  “It’s so sad. It’s as if she doesn’t know how. To be a girl, I mean. Even though she does. She is!” she quickly exclaimed.

  Nobody really understood Domineau. Rafe did—more than anyone—but it didn’t take an over-active imagination to see that she was like an iceberg. Even those who knew her the longest only saw the 10% above the water line. The shit hidden below the surface was where the problem hid.

  “I’m no scientist, but if I had to take an informed guess, my money is on what happened to her at the exact moment a girl comes into her own. Call it arrested development or traumatic loss.” He shrugged. “Don’t think a clinical explanation matters. With Domineau, I think she’s always an awkward eleven-year-old. Probably why she gets along with the guys. We were her social group and where she felt most at ease. Until Justice, I honestly can’t say I ever saw her with a female friend.”

  “Everyone loves her,” she grumbled. “But she’s just so snarly and is her own worst enemy. She’s stuck between the past and the future. I know what that feels like.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “So I pushed.”

  A thunderbolt of inspiration lit him up. “I have an idea. Let’s invite her to family dinner with the Camerons. Just her. No one else.” He grinned at his beautiful wife. “We’ll do it up and impress her with our family shtick. Steaks on the grill and ice cream sundaes with Dylan. She’ll love it.”

  It occurred to him that what his wife and friend needed was neutral territory, so they could start from scratch. Establish something meaningful that was more one-on-one than a group activity. Lacey’s soft heart wanted Domineau to be happy—nothing more. The two getting to know each other better was a good thing.

  “I love it,” she gushed. “We can do s’mores and get out the bubbles. I’ll extend the invitation and tell her a bathing suit is required.”

  He raised a brow and gave a little headshake. “Oh god. I know what that means. Dad watches the kids while you move the drinks cart next to the hot tub and subject my old friend to a Ponytail interrogation.”

  She giggled and wiggled. Uh-huh. He knew what that meant.

  “It worked on you, didn’t it?” she asked with sly impertinence.

  He laughed. “Sorry, honey, but I don’t think we had a hot tub back then.”
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br />   More giggles and wiggles. “True. However”—she chortled—“we had a bathtub that my big ole bear thought was a giant hamper to throw dirty clothes in. Remember?”

  Ah. Yes. Yes, he did remember. His lover at the time had opened him to all sorts of new experiences, including the decadence of a well-planned bubble bath.

  “Are the babies asleep?” she whispered close to his ear.

  “Down for the count,” he growled. “Fresh air and exercise. Works every time.”

  “Such a good daddy,” she murmured. Her soft hand stroking his face needed to move south. Into his pants.

  Cam was deciding whether to dump her off his lap or cajole her into getting up when she slid off his thighs, stood, and in a breathtakingly fluid movement, she whipped off her dress and draped it over the arm of the sofa.

  She had on her new favorite stretchy lace bra thingie. The garment was designed by chick-logic and involved desert heat, boob sweat, and something his wife insisted was a jiggle factor.

  Her panties were indecently transparent with a little white bow on each hip.

  As he stood, Cam had just one question. “Are you okay with a slut fuck?” He thought it best to ask—in case she was gearing up for something a bit more gentlemanly.

  His naughty wife giggling and excitedly clapping while jumping up and down demonstrated the aforementioned jiggle factor and let him know she was up for anything.

  Stepping into his body space, she plastered herself to his body. “I thought you’d never ask,” she purred.

  Cam shuddered when she sucked on his earlobe and bit down. Her throaty growl saying, “Do me dirty, big guy,” guaranteed she’d get what she wanted.

  Hadn’t she said something earlier about a spanking? He grunted, sat, grabbed her wrist, and with a gentle tug, he sent her over his knee. Lacey’s gorgeous ass in the see-through lingerie turned his boner rock hard.

  She laughed and struggled, but he held her down with one arm on her back while caressing her bottom. In no time at all, her laughter turned to low moans.

  “Sometimes, wife, a spanking is just a spanking.”

  He smacked her the way she liked and enjoyed her writhing grunts. If he didn’t give his cock some breathing room soon, he’d end up crippled.

  When her lovely derrière was slightly pink, he slid his hand into her panties. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he growled when his fingers encountered heat and arousal.

  They both reacted wildly. He was desperate to feel her hands on his cock, and she was just desperate. His shirt surrendered its buttons when he morphed into Superman and simply ripped the two sides open. Before his hands moved to the fastening on his jeans, her mouth was on his chest.

  Once they got started, there’d be no holding back.

  Luckily, he was barefoot, making the frantic removal of his jeans a bit easier. Lacey smacked his hand away when he got rough with her panties. She liked to complain that he ripped them to shreds faster than she could replace them.

  Standing, chests heaving as their mutual desire took over, they each snickered. He was naked with an insistent hard-on. She was bare bottomed and giggling. He pushed the stretchy bra thing underneath her boobs and latched onto a puckered nipple.

  “What’ll it be?” he growled. “Slut fucks get first refusal rights. Head down, ass up, or over the arm of the sofa? Or”—Cam chuckled—“first you say hello with your wicked fingers and decide from there.”

  Her amused and sexy giggle was wrapping around his heart when she slid to her knees. “Well, let’s see what comes up, shall we?”

  Yeah—when it came to getting it up for his Ponytail, Cam was always more than ready.

  She applied her hands and got him groaning up a storm. Her licks and nibbles drove him to the brink of his control. There was no sucking involved—his wife knew how to drive him crazy without it. He was about to surrender when she gave off a mighty growl before quickly dropping into her favorite filthy position. Lacey perfected the arched back fuck-me invitation. She put her head on the carpet and looked back at him. He liked seeing her eyes when they fucked.

  “Hurry.” She shook her ass and arched even more.

  He went down on one knee, grabbed his cock, moved into position, and went nuts while Lacey howled her pleasure and demanded more. Cam had a second’s worry that he was being too rough until she shook from the lust storm that had taken her over.

  “Cameron,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”

  Gripping her glorious hips, he shifted and moved around until he found the angle that started an immediate flood. His cock kept swelling with need until he saw stars. The things he did with his hips as he thrust in and out of his lover’s body made them both grunt.

  Her eyes glazed over. She was making little whimpering noises each time he sank in balls deep. He heard his name as she begged. His hand went for her clit and rubbed the juicy nub. Within seconds her pussy squeezed the life out of his cock and she shuddered through a powerful orgasm that triggered his climax.

  He shut his eyes, held her hips, and arched his back as he erupted deep in her pussy. The jolting spasms ripped him apart. He felt his seed spurt and surrendered to the unimaginable pleasure.

  Another lightning bolt—this one coming from inside—shot into his awareness.

  He wanted another baby.

  “What is that?” Cameron asked.

  Lacey elbowed the container he was looking at. “It’s for gripping the pole. Think of it like a chalk ball in the gym—only without the mess.”

  She tapped a control pad to cue up her music and smiled at her audience. Dylan was between Cameron’s legs with Lily on her baby butt between her brother’s spread legs. It was the Cameron clutch.

  After a few warm-up stretches, she waited for the next song and then swung into action. Pole gymnastics might seem like a weird thing to some people, but she loved the physicality of the challenge. The style she preferred was also less strip-club suggestive and more graceful seductress. Her husband certainly enjoyed the show - when she let him watch. It was tough because she had a habit of wanting to take him to bed right after, only there was the whole being a parent thing to consider.

  “What song are you using for the after show?”

  In a rare display of possessive jealousy, Cameron flatly refused to let her do a modest routine for the variety show. She hoped to change people’s perceptions about pole dance, but he wasn’t having it. So she conceded the point—he was her husband, after all —and switched tactics by getting him to agree that she could show off her stuff at the private after party. He had no idea what she was planning and so far hadn’t seemed interested.

  She plopped onto the floor at his knees and played with Lily’s toes. “Can’t say,” she quipped. “But it’s a group effort.”

  “Meaning?” He raised a dark brow and waited expectantly.

  “Meaning, my love, that you have nothing to worry about. I’m wearing the Burka leotard”—she snickered—“and the musical accompaniment will be live. No canned tracks.”

  That certainly got his attention. Most likely because he hadn’t gotten wind of this development before now. The men and ladies were so busy spying on each other trying to get a jump on the private performance plans that her little pole display slid by unnoticed. Ha! She wasn’t stupid. Her plan was to surprise everyone—Cameron included—with a performance that she hoped her manipulation of Domineau didn’t mess up. Would probably serve Lacey right if the other woman decided to tell her to fuck off.

  She’d worry a little bit more if it wasn’t obvious how important the song became to everyone involved. She’d chosen it to choreograph because she liked the vibe. When a pianist and vocalist got on board, her vision was fulfilled.

  With a sly smile, she asked, “What blackmail did Alex threaten you with to get your cooperation with the whole man meat show?”

  “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he mumbled.

  Her husband was not a fan of the performance arts. Oh,
he had the moves, the look, and enough skill not to make a fool of himself, but he really did not like the Justice penchant for turning everything into a Broadway musical. So she was more than a little surprised to learn that her brooding hunk signed on for a Magic Mike style performance fueled by Rafe’s Chippendales past.

  She let it slide in favor of a different conversation.

  “Have you decided yet? About going to Colorado with the Danes.”

  He didn’t do much more than shrug. “Nothing to decide. We’re going. The four of us. Calder’s old business partner lives nearby and is checking out the real estate market. By October, we’ll be in a position to make some preliminary decisions and then tour the properties we’re interested in.”

  They were getting a vacation cabin in Colorado! She could barely contain her excitement. The time she and Cam spent in the snow with Dylan was permanently etched on her heart. Sharing that excitement with Lily just seemed natural. They lived in the desert. A mountain vacation home seemed smart. And then there was Angie trying to talk everyone into some crazy scheme to buy a small tropical island—she said people do it all the time. Like a timeshare that they could all use and also rent out if they wanted.

  Sure! Why not? If a conversation ever started about building an amusement park at the Villa to turn it into a Neverland, she’d say something, but till then, she was good.

  She watched Dylan get Lily giggling and smiled at her husband. What they had seemed so darn perfect.

  Dylan. Her little man was a carbon copy of his daddy blended with her golden coloring. He was a truly funny kid and something of a troublemaker when Danny was around. Those two were going to reign terror over Junior Justice someday.

  He was also Lily’s big brother—a responsibility he approached with heart-melting seriousness. Her son was setting a standard for sibling behavior. Lately, he’d even taken to showing Danny the big brother ropes.

  Her beautiful baby girl—almost six months old—was an angel. Lily displayed an unusual serenity. She was tactile and loved snoodling—something her daddy exceled at. At times, when her shining baby eyes locked with hers, Lacey swore she saw the expression of a wise, old soul looking back. In a way, it reminded her of her mother—only without the grinding agony of loss.