Wilde for Him (11 page)

He swallowed hard and hoped her gaze didn't stray any lower than his waist, or she was bound to find more than she bargained for. "You have to remember that first and foremost, I'm your bodyguard. There is a viable threat against your father, and your family, and that includes you, as well." Especially her. "My job is to keep you safe, and it will go so much more smoothly with your cooperation. Got it?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Grabbing her top and skirt off the counter, he thrust both at her, covering as much of her bared body as he could. "Put your clothes back on. You can shower at home. I've had enough excitement for one night. As soon as you're dressed, we're getting the hell out of here."

STANDING in her dark, quiet kitchen. Christine stared out the window over the sink to the moonlit backyard and took a sip of the hot chamomile tea she'd made. Closing her eyes, she savored the soothing, relaxing warmth as it spread its way down to her stomach.

Regardless of the late hour that was way past her normal bedtime, and despite feeling utterly exhausted after everything that had transpired at Envy earlier, she hadn't been able to fall asleep. She'd spent an hour tossing and turning in her bed with a myriad of thoughts running through her mind, and when the clock on her nightstand hit one A.M., she decided to resort to her good ole standby of tea to help her unwind and hopefully enable her to sleep. She had a busy day at the office tomorrow and couldn't afford to have her mind fogged by lack of slumber.

She sighed, still unable to believe how her evening had turned out. What had began as a fun outing with friends had ended up being a night she wouldn't soon forget.

After leaving Envy, the drive home with Ben had been quiet, and once they'd arrived at her place, he'd conducted a whole house search even though her security alarm had still been on and untripped. That didn't matter to Ben, who insisted that until he was no longer in charge of her, this would be his routine whenever they arrived home. She had to admit, the man was thorough and efficient when it came to her safety.

Since her damp clothes had been clinging to her, she'd headed straight for her bedroom, stripped her clothes back off, and took a long, hot shower. By the time she was done and went in search of Ben, he'd already retreated to the guest bedroom and had shut the door.

She took another drink of her warm tea. Other than the incident with Jason, then with Craig in his private office, she'd had a great time with Ben. He'd meshed well with her friends, and he played the part of her steady beau exceptionally well. Almost too well, considering how comfortable she'd been sitting on his lap, how sensual his touch felt on her bare thigh, and especially how territorial he'd been when he'd found her seminude in Craig's bathroom.

Remembering the simmering heat in his gaze when he'd noticed her standing there in her bra and panty ensemble, then again when he'd crowded her against the vanity, a shiver rippled through her and tightened the tips of her breasts against her cotton camisole.

Her overwhelming reaction to Ben no longer surprised her at all. He made her burn with need, made her think about all the things she wanted to do to him, and with him. Sinful, shameless things she'd never done with any other man before.

She wasn't a virgin, but since her breakup with Jason she'd come to realize that she was far too inexperienced when it came to all that sexual foreplay a couple usually enjoyed before the main course. For that matter, she was pretty damned innocent when it came to positions, too. The only one she was intimately familiar with was missionary style, and there was so much more she wanted to know, learn, and experience.

As she finished her tea and set her cup in the sink, she thought about what Madison had said to her earlier tonight, about giving Ben a bit of a shove in the right direction. But in order to do that, it meant she'd have to shed all those rules of propriety her mother had drilled into her head for so many years. Being a demure good girl and suppressing her own desires hadn't gotten her much in terms of sexual gratification, and the thought of being a little wicked and wanton now held a whole lot of appeal.

But embracing that sexually assertive woman within her meant being bolder in her pursuit. More daring in her quest to please herself, instead of doing what everyone else expected of her. It also meant not settling for less than what she wanted.

And what she wanted was Ben Cabrera.

"You can't sleep either, huh?"

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Ben's deep, husky voice sounded from somewhere behind her. Turning around, she found him across the kitchen, standing in the doorway, the moonlight streaming through the window, illuminating him like a dark, fallen angel. Leaning casually against the frame, his corded arms were crossed over his bare chest, and he wore a pair of gray sweatpants that rode precariously low on his hips and revealed a good amount of his taut, rigid belly. Lower, the soft cotton emphasized everything that made him so heart-stoppingly virile.

Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard as she slowly, leisurely dragged her gaze back up the length of his gorgeous, well-built body, until she finally reached his face. Already, a light stubble had formed on his lean jaw, and his hair had been finger-combed into a wildly disheveled style that flaunted that sexy, bad boy image of his.

Lust, strong and undeniable, licked through her like a live flame. She knew her shot at seduction was now or never, that there was no better time than the present moment to go full force after the man who'd inspired some of her most erotic fantasies over the past few months.

"No, I couldn't sleep either," she said, her voice soft and low.

Gathering her confidence, she strolled across the kitchen toward him, wishing she was wearing a pair of her high-heeled shoes that gave her a bit more of a height advantage. Without them, and because Ben was so big and tall, she felt incredibly delicate and feminine when she finally came to a stop in front of him.

"It's all your fault, you know," she said, blaming him for the time she'd spent tossing and turning in her bed.

He arched a dark brown brow in amusement. "And just how am I to blame?"

"Because you make me feel hot and restless, and that isn't conducive to sleep." Smiling, she reached up and touched the tips of her fingers to his unshaven cheek, watching as his gaze darkened with awareness. "You feel it, too, don't you?" she whispered.

"Feel what?" he replied, his gruff tone giving away his attempt at nonchalance.

"This attraction between us." Stepping even closer, she skimmed the pad of her thumb across his full bottom lip, aching to kiss him. "Tell me you feel it, too."

Encircling his long fingers around her wrist, he gently drew her hand away from his face and let her arm drop back to her side. "It doesn't matter if I do, Christine. Nothing's going to happen beyond being your pretend boyfriend."

God, she hated that he'd reverted back to calling her Christine, which was his way of keeping things all business between them, she knew. But now that she'd come this far, she wasn't about to let him dissuade her from her ultimate goal. In fact, she was all-out determined to crack that steadfast control of his, because what she was beginning to feel for him was as honest and real as it got.

"You make me realize everything that was missing from my other relationships, not that I've had many." Drawn to the broad expanse of his bare chest, she splayed both hands on all that hard muscle and hot skin and experienced a thrilling jolt of triumph when he sucked in a sharp breath. "But even with the men I've dated in my past, I've never, ever, felt this kind of intense attraction before."

He didn't remove her hands this time, but neither did he touch her in return. Instead, his fingers curled into tight fists, and the muscles beneath her hand flexed oh-so-enticingly, revealing just how tense he'd become. "Don't go there, Christine," he said, his voice a rasp of sound in the shadowed kitchen.

"Oh, but I do want to go there. Badly." Letting her lashes fall to half-mast, she slid her arms around his neck, stood up on tiptoe, and brushed her mouth across his. "I want to know how real desire feels," she whispered, teasing the seam of his lips with her tongue. "I want to know what real passion tastes like."

The rumbling of a groan vibrated against her mouth, encouraging her to forge ahead while she still had the chance. "Kiss me, Ben." She nibbled on his bottom lip and gently tugged it between her teeth. "Please."

Like a man pushed to the brink, he finally fell over the edge and Christine knew she was about to reap the benefits of all that raw, powerful masculinity he exuded. With a rough growl, he wrapped the fingers of one hand in her hair, encircled his other arm around her waist, and hauled her up against his body as his mouth came down on hers.

Hot.

Hard.

And deliciously demanding.

There was no sweetness in his kiss, but slow and romantic wasn't what she'd been after tonight. This all-consuming embrace was exactly what she wanted from Ben, and for the first time in her adult life she discovered that desire felt like the most exciting thrill-ride she'd ever taken. And passion… oh, Lord, passion tasted like searing heat, ravenous hunger, and insatiable lust all rolled into one.

The hand at the nape of her neck tightened, then he shifted and moved, turning her slightly, backing her up, until her shoulders hit the kitchen wall and he trapped her there with the insistent press of his thighs and hips against hers. The solid length of his erection branded her with a need so primal, she ached to feel every inch of him inside of her.

With her head now pinned against the flat surface, he slanted his mouth across hers and deepened the kiss farther, if that was at all possible. His tongue stroked across hers, and his big, strong hands wandered into more forbidden territory.

One palm glided down over the curve of her waist and around to her bottom while his other hand skimmed beneath the hem of her camisole. His thumb caressed the skin of her stomach, and she trembled in anticipation. Unrelenting fingers swept upward, until he finally enveloped her breast in his big, callused hand and squeezed the firm flesh.

She moaned against his mouth, and arousal, liquid and warm, spiraled its way down to her belly, then between her thighs. He rolled her taut nipple between his fingers and she automatically arched into him as a soft, mewling sound escaped her throat. Everything the man did, every illicit stroke and erotic caress, sent her soaring to a higher level of sensation, until she felt drenched in the most decadent pleasure of her life.

She wanted to touch him in return… everywhere. Wanted to make him burn with the same intoxicating fever spreading through her. As she smoothed both of her hands down his chest to his abdomen, then teased her fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants, his big body shuddered. Before she had the chance to pull on the drawstring that would give her access to his jutting erection, he abruptly ended the kiss. He jerked back, his breathing ragged.

Christine was disappointed, but not surprised by Ben's sudden retreat, especially when she witnessed the self-condemnation gradually filling his gaze. He had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, not when she'd been the one who'd instigated the kiss, and she opened her mouth to tell him so.

"Don't," he ordered through clenched teeth as he pushed away from her. "Don't say a damned thing. You got what you wanted, so let's just leave it at that." He walked out of the kitchen without looking back, and a moment later she heard his bedroom door slam shut.

She winced, and had to resist the urge to follow after him and demand that they hash out this attraction between them right then and there. But it was painfully obvious to her that he was in no mood to talk about what had just happened, and she'd be stupid to push the issue when he wasn't in the right frame of mind to admit that their kiss had rocked his world, as much as it had hers.

And that was okay with her. Just knowing she'd been able to penetrate a few of Ben's stringent barriers was more than enough for her. For now.

Chapter Six

BEN knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. Four days had passed since he'd given in to temptation and kissed Christine, and he knew it was just a matter of time before something else happened. He could feel it in the air whenever Christine was near him. Could sense the subtle changes in her since that night—a sensual self-assurance that kept Ben on edge, waiting and wondering what her next plan of attack would be.

It didn't help matters that he was keenly aware of the woman, in every way. She walked by him, and that warm, vanilla scent clinging to her skin sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin. She laughed, and the sound captivated him. She'd always been flirtatious with him, but now when she sent a smile his way, it was filled with a sultry feminine knowledge and womanly confidence that didn't bode well for him and his good intentions.

So far, she'd behaved herself, but he suspected that was because of how busy she'd been with work. This week she'd spent a good twelve hours a day at the office, mostly preparing for an upscale charity gala for the Children's AIDS Foundation, which was scheduled for this upcoming Saturday and was being held at the St. Claire Hotel in downtown Chicago. From what she'd told him, Christine had been hired to handle the sponsors and silent auction portion of the social affair.

Now, as he relaxed on a very comfortable couch in the reception area of Christine's office where he could keep a close eye on her as she worked, Ben found it hard to believe that he was getting paid five figures to spend most of his days playing FreeCell on his laptop to pass the time. But there wasn't a whole lot to do while Christine and Madison fielded phone calls, accepted various deliveries that arrived for the silent auction, and spent hours discussing the best way to raise the most money for the Children's AIDS Foundation.

In all honesty, with nothing productive to do other than ensuring Christine's safety, he had far too much time on his hands to think about things he had no business dwelling on. Like how great her ass looked in the brown slim skirt she'd worn today, and how incredibly sexy her legs were in yet another pair of designer heels. Then there was that hot, mind-blowing kiss they'd shared that kept replaying over and over in his head. Except in his mind, instead of pulling away and ending the carnal embrace, he gave into the untamed need to strip off her clothes, bury himself deep inside her soft body, and forget the long list of reasons why getting involved with her was a very bad idea.