Deliberate Deceptions: Hauberk Protection, Book 3 (6 page)

“I don’t want just one night, Lauren. I want it all back again—us, the way we were. We both know that’s not going to happen.”

All her doubts crumbled into dust. He wanted her still. “We don’t know that.”

She tilted her chin and closed the distance between them until her lips brushed his. He didn’t move, letting her tongue slide against the seam joining them but not allowing her entry. She wouldn’t beg but if he wouldn’t accept her kiss, she’d find another way past his defenses.

Her hands flattened over his chest, seeking his shirt buttons. He didn’t move as she undid them one by one. His stomach muscles tensed when she parted the opening of his shirt and touched bare skin. She affected him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She was so close. If she could just convince him to let go, to give her a chance…she traced the curve of his stomach, up to his pectorals.
Love me. Please.

As if she’d touched a switch, his body shuddered beneath her fingers. He drew a deep breath, then his lips captured hers, taking command of the kiss. His tongue swept over her lips as if he were sampling her, preparing to feast upon her. He adjusted the angle of his head; his chin rasped over hers, the heat of the razor burn rousing a lingering reminder of their lovemaking long ago.

This was what she’d remembered, what she’d dreamed of all these years. Wanted. Needed.

Yet he hadn’t touched her with anything but his mouth. She wanted his hands on her, all over her, every inch of his body touching hers. His chest, his stomach, his hips. More than the hard length of his thigh holding her in place.

Her hands slid around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer but he resisted her attempts. Damn it, if he wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him.

She shifted until they were chest to chest, cradling his erection against her mound, relieved to feel the proof that he wanted her as much as she needed him. The pressure against her chest increased when he captured her wrists, dragged them over her head.
God yes, like that. Take me hard and fast, the way I love.

Their combined breathing was heavy and harsh in the room as they stood there, panting. Waiting. The hell with waiting. She’d waited too long for this chance, she wasn’t going to let it slip away. Holding her breath, she ground her hips against his erection.

With a groan she felt to her toes, Chad dropped his head to her shoulder. His mouth sought out the spot beneath her ear, a spot he’d long ago learned connected straight to her pussy. His teeth nipped the spot, his tongue soothed the sting. Pain followed by pleasure. He repeated it. So hard and fast was out. Slow and easy was nice too.

Without warning, he straightened, releasing her. Instead of backing away, his fingers combed through her hair, one hand cupping the back of her head, holding her in place. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

“I can’t. I
do
want this.”

I want to go to bed with you lying beside me, knowing you’ll be there in the morning. I want to make you understand why I had to leave, take the pain away that I caused you. I want us. The way we once were. Before.

Before the photographers invaded their privacy. Before Emily’s death. If it hadn’t been for his hold on her, she would have swayed. Instead, she forced the guilt, the grief, back into their cubbyhole and slammed the door she’d created to hold them back.

With a gentle pressure, he pushed her to her knees.

“You know what I want.” His voice was rough, as if he’d been shouting in a smoke-filled room all night. Did he realize he only sounded like that when she was in front of him like this? She clung to the knowledge that she still had the power to excite him.

Her fingers shook as she reached for his fly, though with excitement or fear that he’d stop her she wasn’t sure.

Could he feel how the blood raced through her veins? Or hear her heart pounding like a bass drum with each inch his zipper lowered? Her breath escaped in a soft puff as she released his erection from its tight confines. She leaned her forehead against his belly, loving the feel of the crisp mat of hair that tickled her nose, the strength of the warm shaft against her cheek. This was where she’d wanted to be for years but never believed she’d experience again. To touch him, to smell him and taste him.

Cupping his behind, she pulled back and nuzzled his cock. Her mouth watering in anticipation, she ran her tongue over the heavy crown. He moaned and his fingers tightened in her hair when she took his whole shaft in her mouth, her lips closing round him adding extra pressure. The globes of his ass tightened as he rocked into her in a slow, steady rhythm. Her body heated at the familiarity of the act. The memories of his taste, his scent, escalated her need for release. She moaned, dropping one hand from his ass to finger her clit.

Whether it was the moan or the loss of contact, he tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her off. “Stop.”

He hauled her to her feet, sliding one arm beneath her knee. He kissed her—there was nothing gentle about it. It was hard, demanding. The way she loved. His tongue thrust into her mouth, claiming every inch of her. He broke it off, moving instead to the side of her neck, finding the spot that had her sucking in her breath. She dropped her own mouth to the tender spot where his neck met his shoulder, nipping with her teeth, sucking, leaving her own mark on him, somewhere that would be hidden by his collar. Somewhere no one else would see, but she’d know it was there.

The smooth head of his cock slid between her folds. It brushed over her clit, and withdrew, teasing her until her toes curled against the floor and she couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped a hand between them and guided his cock to her entrance.

With a ferocity he’d never shown before, he thrust deep then stayed motionless until his body vibrated with the need to continue. “Do you want this?”

She tilted her hips, closing her eyes at the delicious friction of him filling her. She loved it when he let his aggressive side loose, commanding. Powerful. God, she’d missed this. Missed him. “I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you, Chad.”

His whole body stiffened, the only warning before he withdrew from her. “Bullshit. You divorced me, remember?”

With a cry, she reached out to catch him when he lifted his pants and refastened his fly. He snatched up her shirt and threw it at her. “You even changed your goddamned name back to Patrick as soon as the divorce went through.”

She straightened her shoulders. He deserved the truth. “I couldn’t stay with you—”

“You were very clear about that. You couldn’t be associated with me. What woman wants a man who is more concerned with his sister’s life than his wife’s career?”

Is that what he thought? Had she really given him that impression? No, more likely Thalia had. “That’s not why I left.”

“Maybe that wasn’t the final straw that drove you out, but it was a big part of it, wasn’t it? You never understood why I went against orders, did you?”

“I understood. I still don’t agree with your decision to send people in undercover, though I understood why you did it.” She deliberately didn’t name Sam. “But that’s not why I went to England.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Our marriage is over. You got what you wanted. You don’t get what you want this time.” He released her and opened the door between their rooms. He stopped on the threshold and spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you’re protected from this Harris asshole. But once he’s neutralized? I don’t want to see you again.”

Once the door closed behind him, Lauren walked up to it, pressed her forehead against the cool panel and whispered, “I’m not going let you walk away until you’ve listened to me. Until you believe I left you because I loved you. Not because I didn’t.”

Chapter Six

Chad rested against the closed door, stifling an urge to bang his head against it. What the hell had he just done? How had he let it get that far?

I’ve only ever wanted you.
Bull. Shit.

Not after the way she’d had the divorce papers delivered to him. In front of the press by a goddamned process server who looked like he should still be in junior high and hadn’t even started shaving yet. The kid was intimidated about serving a guy wearing a gun and had stuttered when he’d asked Chad his name. At least until he spotted the cameras. Then he’d adopted a swagger worthy of a rap star.

At least Sam had his back. Once they had Hauberk up and running, Sam had taken on that damned firm in a long bloody takeover. Hauberk had gained a lot of new customers when they’d finally emerged victorious and that had set them on the path to where they were now—the biggest, most reputable personal protection firm on the east coast.

He stomped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He undid his shirt buttons, barely stopping himself from ripping the damned shirt off. His still-rampant hard-on caused him some grief with the zipper, but soon his trousers sailed across the bathroom to land in a heap in the corner. Goddamn her.

I’m not playing a game
.

Damned straight she was playing a game. With his nuts as the dice.

He stepped into the shower, not caring that the water was too hot. Served him right. He grabbed a bar of soap and lathered his hands. Why the hell had he stopped? Why hadn’t he taken his due?

Because he’d be damned if he’d let her drag him back into the hell of thinking she cared for him.

His soapy fist wrapped around his cock, jerking it rapidly. He should have taken his time with her. Tied her to the bed. Teased her to the point of orgasm then left her wanting the way she’d done with him. Or taken her hard, worrying only about pleasing himself.

Fuck. He’d forgotten to use a condom. Who knew who she’d been with? How could he have been so fucking stupid? Because he’d let himself forget they weren’t married, forgotten that their rules for sex had changed with the stroke of a judge’s pen.

He’d walked on eggshells for too damned long around her. Let her turn away from him when they were in bed for almost a year. Only to come home and find she’d moved out, run all the way to fucking England. He fisted his dick with hard, angry strokes. So he’d made a decision at work without consulting her. That was his fucking job. To make decisions. Didn’t she understand he’d had no choice but to send Sam and Jill in undercover? That no one else was stepping up to the plate to protect Thalia? That it was his duty to protect his sister? The same as it was to protect Lauren? The way he’d failed to protect Emily.

With a roar, he slammed his fist into the wall, not caring that the tile cracked. Oh, God, Emily. Even after the coroner’s report proved there was nothing they could have done, Lauren had blamed him for Em’s death. Hell, how could he blame her? He blamed himself. There had to have been something he could have done but Emily had been cold and rigid even before he’d tried CPR. He slumped against the wall, letting the water cascade over him. Maybe if they had gotten up earlier instead of sleeping in that morning, maybe if…like it had every other time he tried to think of something he could have done, he came up blank.

Enough of this shit
, he finally told himself.

After roughly applying the soap to the rest of his body, he ducked his head under the shower then shut off the water. He grabbed a towel as he considered the question of what he needed to do now.

Phone Sam. Find out if he knew that Lauren would be his principal.

Probably not, he decided. If he had, Sam would have moved heaven and earth to make sure Chad had
not
been assigned as her lead op; Sam didn’t like Lauren any more than she liked him.

So Sam had been manipulated too. No easy feat.

He tossed the towel over the shower rail and ensured the edges were aligned before picking up his clothes where he’d dropped them. Once they were properly folded, he strode naked into his room.

Maybe Weir had access to one of Sam’s contacts? Sam’s little birdie, the one who put the bug in his ear about the upcoming article?

He stopped in the middle of the room. That’s where he had to look. Would Sam tell him who had given him the scoop? Once he found out that he’d been manipulated, damned straight he would. Sam would be as pissed as he was right now. Then Sam would ensure that birdie would sing soprano for the rest of his fucking life. He grabbed a shirt out of the closet and replaced the hanger. The routine of dressing, doing up each button one by one helped him focus. His shirt properly buttoned, he grabbed a pair of underwear from the dresser, smoothing the pile he’d disturbed. A clean pair of freshly pressed dress pants were shaken out, and jerked on. Socks. Black. Calf-length so no ankle showed.

By the time he was completely dressed, his movements were smooth, his thoughts focused. Only then did he pick up his BlackBerry and punch in Sam’s number.

No answer.

After leaving a voice message, he booted up his laptop and logged onto Hauberk’s VPN.

“
Dear Sam, I respectfully request to be transferred….
” No, that wasn’t right. “
Sam, I need a favor…
”

Not once had he asked to be taken off a case. Not with the FBI and not with Hauberk. So, damn it, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

A half hour—and numerous deletions—later he finally hit send.

An hour later, he was checking his email for…well, he’d given up counting how many times he’d hit “check mail”, when there was a knock at the hallway door. Before he could respond, it opened and Troy walked in.

“Thought you’d like to know the extra men just arrived.” Troy closed the door behind him and rested against it. “I’ve handed out the rotation you drew up. Everything should be good to go.”

“Thanks, but I could have handled it.”

“I know but I was there checking out the cameras and everything else, so I took care of it.” Instead of leaving the way Chad had expected, Troy stayed in place. He tilted his head to one side as he considered Chad. “You okay, mate?”

Ah. So that was the purpose of visiting in person. Chad nodded. “I admit I was surprised to see her.”

His answer didn’t satisfy Troy. “Sorry I couldn’t give you any more warning than I did, but—”