One Night with her Bodyguard (6 page)

“But
you won’t be ready for me yet, will you?” He lifted his head to look down at
her, a slight concern shading the desire radiating off him. He reached down
between her legs and slid his fingers across her aroused flesh, testing her
readiness.

She
huffed with laughter and arousal both as he stroked her. He would feel just how
wet she already was, despite their brief and somewhat clumsy foreplay. “I need
you
now
,” she repeated, clawing at his ass in an attempt to pull him
into place.

He
started to settle between her legs when he jerked without warning. “Condom.”

She
couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten. She’d never been so completely
overwhelmed with need and feeling before. She’d always enjoyed sex very much,
but it had never taken over everything else.  “In the drawer,” she said,
nodding at the nightstand.

He
grabbed a condom and rolled it on quickly. Then he repositioned himself and
used his hand to line up his erection at her entrance.

She’d
parted her thighs to make room for him, and now she rocked her hips up to meet
him, desperate to feel him inside her.

“Are
you sure about this, honey?” he asked hoarsely, his eyes meeting hers, just on
the cusp of connection.

“Yes,
yes, please. I want you so much.”

He
slid in slowly, pulling back once to reangle the penetration. She arched from
the pleasure and pressure as his hard length sank deeper inside her.

When
he’d finished his thrust, Michael braced himself above her, breathing heavily. She
could tell he was trying to compose himself, but she couldn’t wait for him to
catch his breath. She started to move her hips eagerly, trying to ride him from
below, already feeling the sensations intensifying.

“Fuck,
Claire. Hold on—“  Michael’s voice was thick and breathless, and he jerked his
head to the side, trying to hold himself still with so much effort that his
body shook visibly.

“I
can’t,” she gasped, “I need…I need…” Her body felt out of control—from emotion
as much as physical sensation.

With
a low groan, Michael gave up the fight to control himself. All the tension he
kept coiled tightly inside him let go in that moment. He began to thrust hard,
fast, urgent.

She
cried out as she felt him let go, since it was exactly what she wanted. She
matched his motion as the world narrowed down to nothing but this rhythm, this
hunger, this heat, Michael’s intense blue eyes holding hers without wavering.

This
was what she wanted—Michael stripped of his stoic mask and fully with her,
with
her, at last.

He
grunted as he moved above her and inside her, and she clawed lines down his
back and on his ass as she felt an orgasm tighten improbably soon. Their motion
was carnal, primitive—a perfect expression of feelings they were finally
allowed to channel.

She
heard herself making sobbing sounds as her body shook with her approaching
climax. Her mouth opened with a soundless cry as the pleasure broke in intense
waves of pleasure.

Michael
froze for a moment as her channel clenched hard around him. Then he lost it,
his hips jerking against hers in a few fast, tight thrusts as he choked on a broken
exclamation.

She’d
come down enough to see his face twist in pleasure. Witnessing his release was
just as powerful as her own orgasm.

He
was always so controlled. Knowing he’d lost his control—with her—knit something
together in her heart.

When
the last wave of his release worked itself through him, his elbows buckled, and
he barely caught himself before his weight landed on her. But she pulled him
down on her anyway, wrapping her arms around him and wanting to feel him now
just as much as she had before.

He
panted against her neck, pressing little kisses against her skin. She hugged
him, loving how his body softened in her arms.

When
he lifted his head at last, she saw something soft and ironic both in his eyes.

She
smiled in response to the expression and in response to the overflow of
affection in her chest.

“Well,
that lasted all of two minutes,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner
of her mouth. “Rather pathetic performance, really.”

She
smiled against his lips. “No, it wasn’t. I loved it.”

“I
did too. But give me a minute or two, and I promise I can do better.”

She
laughed and hugged him again, and warm delight washed over her as she heard him
laugh too.

Before
she wanted to let him go, he pulled up and away until she had to release him.
“I need to take care of the condom,” he explained.

She
watched as he got up to dispose of it, admiring the strong, masculine lines of
his naked body. He must have seen her looking at him because he arched his
eyebrows as he got back into bed.

“You’ve
got a very nice ass,” she told him when he stretched out beside her and propped
his head up on his hand to look down on her.

The
corner of his mouth twitched. “Thanks. At the moment, it has a few scratches on
it.”

She
felt her cheeks warm, since she knew he was speaking the truth. She’d been very
enthusiastic earlier. “You’ve got no one to blame for that but yourself. You
were moving too slow.”

“I’ve
never been accused of that before, but I’ll work on it.” He gently pulled back
the sheet she’d covered herself up with, his eyes lingering on her bare
breasts, belly, and groin. “You’ve got very nice everything,” he murmured.

The
hot look in his eyes made her cheeks warm even more. She would have felt
self-conscious if not for the obvious appreciation in his expression. Before
she could think of anything witty to say in response, he leaned down to brush
his lips against hers.

The
kiss was soft, almost sweet, and she felt a little melty as he raised his head
a few inches to gaze down on her. When he lowered his face for another kiss,
she reached up and combed her fingers through his wavy, dark hair.

He
stroked the insides of her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth for him
instinctively and sighed in pleasure as he deepened the kiss. It lasted a long
time, not growing needy so quickly this time, but eventually he pulled away
from her mouth so he could kiss his way down her body.

He
took his time, caressing and teasing her with his skillful lips and his strong
hands. By the time he’d reached her belly, Claire was pulsing with arousal
again and tossing her head restlessly on the pillow.

He
parted her legs and stroked her intimately with his fingers. She gasped when he
slid his fingers into her wet channel. Then he lowered his mouth to her clit,
teasing it with his tongue.  She gave a little huff at each jolt of pleasure.

Soon
the sensations had coalesced into a growing climax. She couldn’t stay still and
she couldn’t stay quiet as they intensified, so she clutched the bedding with
one hand and with the other she held Michael’s head in place between her
thighs.

He
was stroking her with two fingers and sucking on her clit, and soon she came so
hard she had to stifle a loud cry by biting her bottom lip.

Her
body relaxed deliciously as the waves of pleasure finally eased, and Michael
raised his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh
God, thank you,” she breathed, reveling in the physical satisfaction and the
thrill of Michael’s having done that for her. “That was incredible.”

“I
told you I could do better.” He was smiling as he kissed his way back up to her
mouth. She could still taste herself on his lips, and she didn’t even care.

He
was hard again. She snuck a hand between their bodies so she could massage his
erection as they kissed. His body was tightening, although not as intensely as
it had before. He wasn’t going to lose control yet.

After
a few minutes of kissing, she reached over for a condom and made him roll over
so she could put it on. Then he pulled her on top of him until she was
straddling his hips, and he held his erection in place and helped her lower
herself over him, sheathing his hard length in her body.

She
moved over him slowly, trying to find a pleasing angle and rhythm. She was
usually self-conscious on top, but she loved the way he gazed up at her, his
eyes caressing her hot face, her naked breasts, and the place farther down where
they were joined.

He
lifted a hand to cup her face, and his expression held such tenderness it took
her breath away.

She’d
never known—she’d just never known—that this passionate man existed beneath the
stoic Michael she’d always seen before.

“Can
you come, honey?” he asked, when she’d slowed down because her thighs were
getting tired.

“Not
like this.” She rubbed his chest—the firm muscles, the ripples of his ribs, the
coarse dark hair that she loved to feel beneath her palms. “But I’m good. You
can come if you need to.”

He
shook his head. “I told you I could do better this time.” He lifted her hips
until he’d slid out of her, and then he turned them both over, so she was on
her back and he was on top of her. He spread her legs a little wider and bent
one of them up toward her chest. Then he entered her again.

She
moved with him as he started to thrust, and soon the tender look in his eyes
shifted into the hungry, urgent one. It seemed to spur her on too because the
friction caused her nerve endings to fire off in quick succession.

She’d
been holding onto his shoulders, but now she started to claw at him again. She
wrapped her legs around his middle, hooking them on the second try. He slid in
a little deeper, and she choked on a cry in response.

“Good,”
he grunted, “Good, honey. Come for me.” His hips were working hard and fast,
and the tension was just on the verge of releasing.

She
came, shuddering and crying out as the climax swept over her. He kept thrusting
against the contractions, extending the duration as she rode out her orgasm.

Then
he finally let himself come too, letting go on another broken exclamation that
sounded almost like her name.

Again,
she was able to watch as climax hit him. Again, she reveled in the sight of his
familiar face so completely overwhelmed with what he was feeling.

She
wrapped her arms around him when it was over, and this time neither of them
needed to speak.

She
was exhausted and completely sated when he took care of the condom and got back
into bed with her. He gathered her in his arms and held her close.

She
snuggled against him, feeling like she should say something but just not
finding the energy. She was wiped out from the very long day and night, but she
didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to leave his arms.

After
a long time, Michael shifted against her and stroked her hair. “Are you all
right?”

“Yeah.
I’m good. So good.” She caressed his flat belly and listened to his heart beat
under her ear. “What about you?”

He
lifted his head enough to kiss her hair.  “I’m good too.”

It
wasn’t long until she’d fallen asleep.

***

When Claire woke up an
hour or so later, she was still pressed up against Michael’s side. She could
sense him trying to move away, even in her half-conscious state, so she grabbed
at him and tried to hold him in place.

“Don’t
go,” she mumbled. “I want you here.” She burrowed against his strength and
heat.

His
arm—the one that was still around her—tightened palpably. “I’m here, Claire.
I’m here.”

She
sighed in relief when she felt his body relax, and she drifted off to sleep
again.

***

The next time Claire
woke up, Michael was gone for good.

It was after nine when Claire woke up.

She never slept so
late, but she hadn’t gone to sleep until almost four, so she was still groggy,
disoriented, and a little sore when she finally rolled out of bed.

Her first thought was
to look for Michael, but he was obviously not in the bedroom. His clothes,
which had littered the floor last night, were gone as well.

He’d probably gotten up
and dressed early. She pulled on her gown and then found a robe to put on over
it, since Michael might not be the only one in the cabin this morning. She
padded out barefoot into the living area to see Pete in the easy chair, reading
a newspaper.

“Good morning,” he said
with a smile, putting down the paper.

“Morning.” She returned
his smile, but her eyes scanned the kitchen and living area, hoping to see
Michael. He wasn’t there. “How is everything?”

“Just fine. Your father
asked if you’d call him when you woke up.”

She nodded to
acknowledge this piece of information and then went into the kitchen to pour
herself a cup of coffee. As she sipped it, she walked from window to window,
checking to see if Michael was outside somewhere but not wanting her search to
be too obvious.

She didn’t see him, but
the property was big. Maybe he was taking care of something out of sight.

She took her coffee
into her bedroom to shower and dress. A half-hour later she reemerged and came
out to get a second cup of coffee. Pete was still there, and Michael was still
nowhere in sight.

Unable to hold back the
question, she asked casually, “Is Michael lurking about somewhere?”

Pete looked vaguely
surprised, as if she should have known. “Oh, no. He went down to the police
station early.”

“Oh.” She let out a
breath of relief. Maybe he thought he’d be back before she woke up. “So he’ll
be back soon then?”

Pete shifted, slightly
uncomfortable. He still looked a little surprised, like he’d assumed she would
have known all this information. “I don’t think so. He decided to take a couple
of weeks off, since we finally got this guy. He hasn’t had a vacation in
years.” He offered that last comment almost gently, like a peace offering.

“Oh.” Claire’s chest
started to hurt. “Okay.”

She went into the
bedroom and checked the bed, nightstand, and dresser, looking for a note she
might have missed. She picked up her phone and checked for messages, but there
was nothing there.

The pain in her chest
was dropping to her stomach, but she went to check the kitchen and living room
for a note—although she couldn’t imagine he would have left it there.

But she also couldn’t
imagine he would have left her without a word. After what they’d shared last
night.

She even pulled up her
email, in case he’d wanted to compose a longer message. But there was no word
of any kind from Michael.

She sat on the bed,
trying to think, trying not to overreact.

But there was no way this
could be good.

Unable to process it
yet, she called up her dad. He told her that he’d arranged for his personal
lawyer to meet her at the police station that morning so she could explain the
little she knew about the incidents of last night. He said that Roger and Pete
would take her, since Michael was on vacation.

He didn’t sound
surprised or seem to think that Michael’s absence was strange.

He asked if she would
mind coming to his place later and spending a couple of days with him. He’d
been worried about her. He didn’t say so, but she could tell.

She told her father
she’d be happy to stay at the house for a while, and then she hung up the
phone.

She checked her phone
again, but still no message from Michael.

Maybe he was planning
to meet her at the police station.

She didn’t share herself
lightly or jump into anything without feeling safe. She’d been sure of Michael.
She’d trusted him completely.

She just couldn’t
believe he would have left her like this.

Still hoping things
weren’t as they seemed, she went to the police station. Taking the report moved
slowly so she was there for a couple of hours.

Michael never made an
appearance.

Finally, she was on her
way back to L.A., Roger driving the car and Pete in the front seat.

Claire was alone in the
back, and she hadn’t heard a word from Michael.

He wasn’t a thoughtless
or an insensitive man. He wouldn’t have done this to her without realizing how
she would feel. He would know she’d expected to hear from him—hear
something
from him after last night. Which meant he was giving her a silent message.

He’d taken a couple of
weeks off so he wouldn’t have to see her or talk to her. To give her time to
get over things.

He was trying to let
her down easy—to spare them both a painful conversation.

It hurt so much she
couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t cry.

It felt wrong. It just
felt wrong. She couldn’t have been so mistaken. She didn’t know exactly what
was between them, but their lovemaking last night had been real. Both of them
had been real, not hiding anymore.

She just couldn’t
believe it had meant so little to him.

On that thought, she
dialed his number on her phone, which she’d been holding in one hand. She was
shaking as she heard it ring, and she was also a little nauseated. She hated
making calls, especially if she wasn’t sure whether the other person wanted to
hear from her.

She had no idea what
she would say when Michael answered, but she knew she needed to try.

It rang until it went
to voice mail, and then she just hung up.

An hour later, she
tried to call him again. This time, it went immediately to voice mail.

No more doubts or
questions. Michael didn’t want to hear from her. Even if there had been an
emergency with his mother, he still would have sent her a quick text.

His silence was clearly
the message.

She felt painful sobs
rising in her throat. For a moment, it hurt so much she couldn’t take a full breath.

She’d tried so hard.
She resisted the urge to hide. She’d shown him her true self, no matter how
vulnerable it made her.

And he just hadn’t
wanted her.

It was too much to
handle on her own, no matter how much that was her instinct. Since she couldn’t
talk to Michael, she called her dad.

“Hi, pumpkin.”

“Hi.” It was just the
one word, and she thought it sounded normal enough.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied.

“What’s wrong? Did
something happen at the station? Oscar said everything went fine.”

“It was fine. Nothing’s
wrong.” She had to swallow over the words in order to hold back the rising
emotion.

She couldn’t hold them
back. Her shoulders shook and her face twisted as she released a few silent sobs.

Her father was quiet
for a minute. Then he said gently, “Please tell me what happened.”

She tried desperately
to compose herself. When she thought she had herself under control, she began,
“It’s not that big a deal. It’s just that…Michael…”

Saying his name was too
terrible, admitting how foolish she’d been was too terrible. She couldn’t
continue. She choked on a few more sobs.

Her father didn’t push
her. He just waited in silence until she’d stopped crying.

But then she still
couldn’t say anything. Talking was just too hard. Words could never embody her
feelings, and they didn’t want to be spoken.

“I’d never expect you
to give me details about your personal life,” he said at last. “And I know it’s
hard for you to share things that run deep. I know it might be easier if you
had a mother you could talk to. But, if something has hurt you, you shouldn’t
try to carry it alone.” He cleared his throat. “I’m your family, pumpkin. I’m
the one you tell.”

She fell apart
completely, sobbing loudly, helplessly.

It was still so hard
for her to talk about it, but this was her father. He loved her invariably.
He’d never left her. He’d never let her down. He’d never not answered when she
called.

“What happened with
Michael?” her father asked. He must know she was now trying to tell him.

She was still crying,
but she managed to choke out, “He didn’t…he didn’t want me.”

He didn’t respond
immediately. Just let her cry until she managed to pull herself together.

Then he asked, almost
mildly, “Okay, I’m going to ask you a question, and I promise it’s just because
I want to help.”

“I know,” she told him,
wiping her eyes.

“Because you’re so
quiet, sometimes people don’t know what you’re thinking and feeling. They don’t
understand that you just haven’t expressed it in words.” He paused for just a
moment. “Are you sure he knows how you feel?”

She dissolved again but
didn’t totally lose it. “He does know. I was good. I was…I was brave. I really
tried. I was brave.”

“Oh, Claire, I’m so
sorry.”

She wiped away the
tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father didn’t say anything for a minute or
two. She knew he was thinking, trying to work things out in his mind, finding a
way to fix what was absolutely unfixable.

Finally, he said, “I’m
not sure you have the real story.”

“I really do, Dad. I
don’t think I’m overreacting. He sent me a very clear message.”

“I believe he sent you
a message, but I don’t believe it means he doesn’t want you. That doesn’t sound
right to me.”

“You’re just saying
that because you’re my dad.” His rationale in thinking that every man must be
crazy about her touched her, though.

“No, no. I mean,
obviously no man in the world is good enough for you, but that’s not what I
mean.”

“What do you mean?”
Despite everything she knew to be true, she couldn’t help but feel a little
spark of hope.

“I mean it doesn’t fit
with what I know of Michael. I make a point of never getting involved in my
staff’s personal lives, but I do accidentally notice things and am capable of
putting details together into a reasoned conclusion.”

She tightened a fist in
her lap. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’d believe
he’s a stubborn bastard who’s too thick-skulled to take what he wants, and I’d
believe you’ve muddled things a bit and your efforts to share your feelings
weren’t quite as obvious as you think. But what I can’t believe is that he
doesn’t want you.”

Claire swallowed hard.
“Why would you think that?”

“Because I have eyes in
my head and the man has worked for me for six years. I’ve actually felt bad for
him sometimes in the last year or two, since he’s so completely gone on you and
you’ve always been so oblivious.”

“But, if that’s true,
then why would he...why would he leave…”

“I don’t know. Men are
stupid a lot of the time. Michael’s always at the top of his game, so I’d
imagine he can be stupider than most.”

Her throat was aching
again, but it was with bewildered hope rather than grief. “So you think
maybe…maybe it’s not as bad as it seems?”

“I really don’t know.
Sometimes these things just don’t work out, even if both people want it to. All
I’m saying is that the message you’ve gotten from him isn’t the whole story. It
might be worth figuring out what the story really is.”

“But he’s taking a
vacation. And he won’t even answer my calls.”

“I don’t expect it will
be simple. Especially not for you.” He paused before he added, as if he had to
consider whether he wanted to say it, “He’s never going to be an easy man, pumpkin.”

“I know.  I never
wanted an easy man.”

“Then be brave.”

“I will.”

When she hung up, she
sat for a long time in silence, trying to figure out what to do, what Michael
might have been thinking, and where he might be right now.

She had an idea, but it
terrified her. It would stretch her beyond the boundaries of her nature, making
her more vulnerable than anything she’d done the night before.

She would have to find
someone who didn’t want to be found, approach someone who was hiding from her,
express feelings that were far too deep to express.

She took a shuddering
breath and rolled down the window to the front seat. “Roger,” she said, leaning
forward, “Can we make a stop before we go to my dad’s?”

“Sure thing. Where are
we going?”

“Rivercrest. Same place
as last night.”

Pete gave her a quick
look, but Roger didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Sure thing, miss.”

She rolled up the
window and tried to plan some things to say—assuming Michael was there at all.