Guarding Aisha

by Zoë Normandie

  She felt scared, not because of his threatening presence but because she wanted him so badly.

  That shadowy, low voice continued, “You are a very, very beautiful woman. I’m a man. Just a man. And we are lying together… in this tent.”

  Aisha felt her eyebrow rise. Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful? She couldn’t believe her ears.

  She bit her lip. A fantasy that had percolated since she’d met him flashed before her eyes: he had her bound, and she had to obey his commands. Fulfill his needs. Satiate his appetite. The captor she feared was quickly becoming her deepest desire. But she held her tongue, not wanting to make matters worse, and not wanting to encourage what they both wanted.

  “Aisha, I can’t keep you safe if I’m distracted,” he warned. His voice was raw.

  “Okay…” She was as stiff as a board, unable to move, but she could feel wetness pooling in her panties.

  A wetness she wanted him to touch.

  Silence engulfed them. He leaned back onto his mat, whipping their shared blanket over them again. Neither said anything more.

  She was so exhausted that after only minutes, the gentle noise of snow falling in the forest lured her into an unconscious state. The last thing she promised herself before she drifted off was that tomorrow, she’d wake up stronger.

  Assertive.

  Dreams flushed over her, innocuous at first, but then a reoccurring nightmare found its way to the front of her mind. Aisha saw her younger self in a cell, being questioned by her father’s henchmen. They tortured her and threatened death and worse if she didn’t speak. What did the French say when she tried to defect? What did they want to know about her father? What did she say? The traumatic experience replayed in her mind almost every night.

  Waking with a start, Aisha found herself shivering outside of the blankets, staring at the wall of the tent and facing away from Jake. Her hair was everywhere, and her clothes were disheveled. She must have thrashed about in her sleep. With only the falling snow and winter wind for company, her spine tingled as a cold draft hit a naked swath of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up, spreading goosebumps across her body. It was no use rubbing her hands together for warmth—they were already icicles.

  Her nightmare brought tears to her eyes. That was what had happened the last time she’d tried defecting. Under the cover of darkness, she let herself silently cry it out in fear of what would happen next. Was she destined for failure yet again?

  You were born a failure. Her father’s words. What can you do for yourself? Nothing.

  She stilled herself, keeping her eyes closed, not wanting to wake up Jake. Not wanting him to know. But as the tears poured out, she couldn’t stifle a lone hiccup. Instantly, a strong arm reached over and pulled the blanket over her again. A thick, meaty hand rubbed the outside of the blanket, sending warm shocks through her skin. It ran up and down her side, just like before—assuring, comforting, caring.

  “Y-you probably think I’m the weakest woman in the world,” she stammered.

  His grip around her tightened. Her shivers drew him in further, and arms wrapped around her, forcing her closer. Soon, a warm six-foot-plus length of body formed a solid wall of muscle behind her on the mat.

  “I’m s-so sorry…” She tried to speak but struggled to break through the tears.

  “What for?” he murmured, cool and serious.

  “For being so fragile.” Her voice cracked. “And crying. And everything.”

  The only thing worse than her admission was his the silence that followed. The moment felt like a thousand years.

  “Tears don’t make you weak. You aren’t fragile,” he growled.

  She closed her eyes, willing herself to be stronger. Her mind and her body were at cross-purposes.

  “I think you are the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” He exhaled hotly on her nape.

  Aisha froze. What did he say?

  She had no time to consider it. His mouth was tasting the back of her neck. Bells rang throughout her body as his words and actions echoed through her mind. Beautiful and strong—he’d given her exactly the validation that she needed.

  His soft, wide lips grazed her neck again, slowly, seductively, until she felt that hot need scream from between her thighs. There was nowhere in the world she wanted be except here, in that moment. An insane desire to whip around and kiss him boiled up inside her. Without allowing herself to think, she spun around quickly and faced him.

  Wasting no time, his perfect mouth came down on hers. His kiss was gentle at first, exploring. But it soon turned rash, unstoppable, as his tongue sought hers. The moment turned, and her hips ground against him. The pressure had been building for too long, and they both sought release.

  As she pressed her wet heat into his hardened groin, he let out a deep groan. Aisha loved how turned on he was, because she was too. Viscerally.

  She moaned as his hands wandered down her back and cupped her derriere, feeling the curve of each cheek. Her emotions were raw, her reaction to him the same. His hand traced the crack between the curved cheeks and down the back of her thigh. He flung it over his hip, and with his strong hand he pressed her molten core to his hardened manhood. She’d hazard a guess that those two spots would be assessed by the goggles as being the hottest in the tent. And the wettest, at least in her case, as he continued to rub and press.

  Though they had pants on, it didn’t stop him from exploring everything at his choosing. Aching, needing sensations shot through her abdomen. He certainly had big hands—deft, as well. She didn’t want those hands to stop. She needed those hands. As he continued to kiss her deeply, rocking into her, his erection threatened the thin fabric that stood between them.

  Loving his attention, loving how he touched her, she ran her fingers through his hair. So soft and full. He groaned as she touched him, and he took her mouth more aggressively, biting her lip as he pulled back.

  Watching her intensely, his hands found their way to the waistband of her pants, and slowly they teased south as he touched the supple, soft skin below her belly. He reached further, enjoying her heated reaction to his touch, while her hips thrust up to meet his exploring hand. Grinning, smug, he found the top of her mound, playing gently with the short, soft black hairs there. His hand plunged until he could push back her panties and trace a line straight down the wet, hot slit of her core.

  “Jake…” she moaned, feeling electricity up and down her thighs as he felt the wettest part of her.

  He grinned as she said his name and used the mounting intensity to delve further, swirling in the sensitive flesh that elicited shocks of pleasure. His usual gruffness had relaxed, revealing a youthful man. An unbelievable man. A devilish, handsome, and carnal man.

  “Open wider,” he growled, pressing on the top of her thigh.

  She moved her thighs apart to accommodate the muscular hand that pressed one thumb up into the hottest part of her core.

  “Good girl.” He was pleased.

  She wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to completely ravish her—starting by stripping off all of her clothing. He’d ordered her to remove all her clothes one time before, after all. He could do it again.

  Seeming to read this, he reached down and grabbed her jaw firmly, moving her face closer to his mouth.

  “You have no idea how bad I want you,” he said darkly, licking his lips as he assessed her in his grasp, and grinning as she submitted completely to him.

  He moved in again to take her mouth, and she blinked quickly, fanning her lashes, wishing she could tell him how mutual it was, how much she wanted to touch him underneath all the layers he wore. Wishing she could be more assertive about her desire to taste his manhood. See it in the flesh. Feel it. She’d only been with one man before, and that was during a very clandestine university affair. It had felt nothing like this.

  Leo.

  The cold memory of her old friend watching her with jealous eyes outside of the embassy shook her for just a second, b
ut it was enough that Jake felt it. He pulled back and looked at her, blinking as if he had just woken from a harsh dream.

  Like he’d just realized what he had lost himself to.

  They’d both lost it.

  “Fuck,” he said, falling backward on his mat.

  And the moment fell apart.

  “Jake, I—” She tried to find the right words.

  “Shit.” He shook his head. “We can’t do this.”

  “I just…” Her voice trailed off as he sat up and stared down on her.

  His eyes flickered a few times, assessing her from head to toe, and she almost thought he would kiss her again. But then he shook his head and shut her out completely.

  “You need to sleep.” He wrapped the blanket tighter around her body.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, too tightly wrapped to move. Before she could loosen the bind, he was up, crouching, and getting his shoes back on.

  “Go to sleep.” He cranked up the space heater to maximum.

  “Jake—”

  “I said, sleep,” he snapped, unzipping the tent. “I’ll be on patrol.”

  And before she could reply, he was gone.

  10

  YEARS AND YEARS AGO

  “Mon chou.” A light French voice flitted through her dreams. “Mon chou.”

  Opening her eyes, Aisha realized that she was being shaken awake by Leo Beaudoin in the middle of his apartment in Lyon.

  “They know you are here.” He spoke with urgency, a warning in his voice. “They are coming.”

  Aisha popped up on her elbow, blinking in her groggy state as she stared over at the tall, lean French man in front of her. Had she fallen asleep on the couch? Had she missed curfew?

  Her eyes darted back and forth, and her gaze found the clock. It was the middle of the night.

  “Who knows?” she asked, realizing what was happening.

  Leo sat on the end of the couch near her feet and put his hand on her legs.

  “Your father’s men.” His tone was all seriousness.

  “How do you know?” she demanded, clambering up from the couch. “What have you seen?”

  He jumped up with her and put his hand on her arm, caressing and searching. His eyes were deep with longing. And they had been ever since she’d lain in his bed months ago. It had only been one time, and despite her insistence that it wouldn’t be like that between them, the young graduate student had grown deeply attached to her.

  “There’s no time,” Leo said. “They cannot find you here.”

  She sucked in air. “I need to get back.” Back to the home rented by her father and staffed with chaperones, escorts, and guards to ensure her obedience.

  Leo stepped forward. “Your escort is long gone. I will take you back.”

  Cars whipped down the street in front of his apartment, and every one sent a jolt of fear through her. She had to get out of the building. She was not allowed to be studying alone with a man in his apartment. Absolutely not.

  How long had she been asleep?

  How could she have been so careless?

  Aisha stuffed her books in her study bag. She had been walking a precarious path for too long in Lyon, and deep down she knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be caught.

  As she headed for the door of his apartment, he turned her shoulder to him. “Aisha.” Leo breathed down on her, and for a moment it looked like he was getting emotional.

  Like he was going to kiss her.

  Either way, Aisha found her body moving backward. That was not what she wanted.

  He shook his head, a slight grin crossing his lips. “Mon chou.” His French accent filled the space between them.

  She blinked, and she felt trapped. Trapped between a man she was trying to keep as just a friend, and her father’s men, who could crash through the door at any minute, ripping her away from Lyon for good.

  “Leo, it’s not like that between us,” she pressed, trying to empathize. “I told you this.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “I know you are scared, but I can make this work.”

  “There’s no way,” she said, frustrated. “No.”

  “Yes.” He took a step forward, examining her more closely. “Defect, Aisha. Come to France permanently. I will marry you.”

  Her mouth dropped, but not in excitement. His words were red warning flags. How had she let their perspectives diverge so greatly? She should have known he would try something rash. He was a romantic man.

  As she stood, lost for words, he carried on. “Let’s get in the car. I will take you to the embassy now.” His tone grew even more urgent. “Please, Aisha. We can be together.”

  “My father would never—”

  “If this is a matter of religion, I can convert.”

  “No.” She tried to articulate herself, knowing full well that she was agnostic more than anything. “No, it’s not that.”

  “If you defect, you can live in France forever. Be free from your father, Aisha.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense. I can’t defect. They don’t want me here.”

  “Yes, they do. I know they do. You have information, Aisha. You have so much information on your father that the intelligence service here would love.”

  Aisha’s eyebrow raised. “How do you know this?”

  He shook his head again and grabbed her hands. “Please, Aisha. Do what is right for you. You owe it to yourself.”

  The dream of living in France flashed before her eyes. Could she be free from her father?

  Loud footsteps could be heard climbing the staircase below, from the ground level.

  “We must go!” Leo led her away from the front door of the apartment to the front window, opening it and stepping outside onto the metal fire escape. He turned back and offered his hand.

  “Come with me.” He grinned, hopeful.

  Aisha heard slamming on his apartment door and angry voices demanding to be let in. Leo’s eyes were filled with hope. He wanted to be together. He wanted her to defect, and marry him. He would protect her.

  Wouldn’t he?

  She reached out and grasped his hand, not sure what choices she had. Not sure what was possible. As she climbed down the metal staircase, she hoped she was walking down a path to freedom and not further imprisonment.

  11

  Slouched in the driver’s seat of a Shelby GT500 in the snowy Canadian wilderness, Jake Wilder woke up to the sensation of a rock-hard ridge of wood in his black pants. And it wasn’t just because he had to drain the lizard. Reaching underneath the waistband to his cock, Jake started remembering all that had happened the night prior—he’d taken a taste of her, and he’d wanted all of it. He’d really lost his shit. She was just so goddamn sexy. It was unreal.

  Absently caressing himself up and down, he felt the thick, long member aching to plunge into the sweet tart that lay sleeping in the small black tent barely ten feet from the car. It was amazing that he’d pulled away from her at all. He was one bad move away from pinning her down and fucking the shit out of her like he’d desperately wanted to do since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  Pulling his hard-on away from her last night was fucking hell—he’d nearly run straight into the cold, snowy forest to jerk off like a wild animal, howling at the moon as he sprayed some raccoon’s face. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. But it was the closest he’d ever been to premature ejaculation, and he’d been on some long-ass deployments with nothing but dude sweat for company.

  And that’s how he’d ended up sleeping in thirty-minute intervals in the driver’s seat while trying to maintain some semblance of night watch, some semblance of professionalism, keeping her alive despite himself.

  As the morning sun crested the horizon, he pumped his throbbing manhood, debating if he should just fucking deal with the problem silently before she woke up. It wouldn’t satiate him, but it would help take the edge off. His eyes rolled back as he worked, thinking of the way her tongue tasted, the way her mo
uth felt, the way her pussy smelled… His orgasm rose quickly. And that’s when he really needed to find some tissues, or napkins, or a fucking water bottle to take what he was about to unload.

  As Jake finished, recovering partial sanity, it dawned on him that the previous twenty-four hours were the most fucked-up and out of control he’d felt since he’d gotten out. Since the dark times. There was something about her that drove him fucking wild and made him do shit that he swore he’d never do.

  Fucking hell.

  Lost in his own guilt, Jake got out of the car and began preparing a mini portable hot stove for coffee essentials, and his kit for the road ahead. Alone, working to get things done, he found himself chewing on some of her questions from yesterday. Questions he didn’t want to think about.

  Why didn’t he leave her with Kate? Why did he steal her away?

  Jake wondered just how selfish his reasons were. She was hot. She was in danger. He wanted to help her… and fuck her.

  “Nope, nothing selfish about that at all,” he laughed bitterly to himself.

  Fucking asshole.

  He cocked his pistol and replaced it in its holster on his belt, beneath his black hooded sweater. Trying to fuck her was dumb, and he could only chalk it up to another shitty decision by a shitty dude. Time and time again he proved that the SEALs had changed him. He wasn’t a gentleman anymore.

  Bringing a steaming mug of instant coffee to his lips, he resolved to do something he hated doing. He had to apologize—for insulting her and then pouncing on her like the feral beast he was. He needed to do better. Be better.

  After taking a few more sips of ridiculously shitty coffee and scanning the white-dusted forest before him, Jake came to a few key resolutions: the only thing he needed to focus on was keeping her safe and moving her to the next place they had to be.

  And keeping his hands off of her.

  Because if he couldn’t find a way to be better, he was going to get worse. Way worse, losing his shit and putting her life on the line. For whatever fucking reason, he hadn’t left her, and he’d ripped her away from Kate. He was chest-deep invested, and failure was not a fucking option. If he failed now, his future would probably involve drinking himself to death to drown the pain of too many bad memories.