The Enforcer

by Anna Perrin

  Having already shared pain, they deserved to share pleasure, too. And she couldn’t imagine a pleasure more intense, more joyful, than making love with Brent. This time, there would be no denying impulses, no stopping in the midst of passion.

  With hungry eagerness, she pressed her lips to his throat…his jaw…his mouth….

  BRENT DREW AN UNSTEADY breath, confused—and aroused—by the blatant sexuality in Claire’s kisses. He was hanging on to control by a rapidly fraying rope. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Sure, it is.” She ran her hands up his shirt front, immediately pulling away when he sucked in a sharp breath. “What’s wrong?”

  He’d wanted her hands on him for so long. Now that she apparently wanted the same thing, he was frustrated that her touch had made him flinch. “I’m just a little sore where the bullet hit,” he told her.

  “I was terrified when I saw you fall,” she admitted, as she unfastened the buttons on his shirt.

  Pushing the fabric aside, she gasped at the starburst of red and blue and purple that marked his skin. He wondered if she was repulsed by the sight of his bruise, but then she tipped her head and kissed his chest.

  Her lips whispered gently over the tender skin, tracing the outline of the bruise.

  “What—” He swallowed as her mouth cruised lightly over his nipple. “What are you doing?”

  “Kissing it better.” She glanced up at him, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “Is it working?”

  “Yeah. I…think it is.”

  Her smile widened. “Good.”

  Her mouth moved against his skin, tracing his collarbone, skimming up his neck until her lips brushed against his.

  “Nothing’s changed since last time we kissed,” he said thickly.

  She pushed his shirt over his shoulders. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  No. No, he didn’t. He had bared his soul to Claire tonight and had no regrets about it. His only regret was that she had plans to leave town.

  But maybe those plans weren’t definite. Maybe she was still mulling over her options. Why else would she be willing to make love with him? She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. Her actions suggested that she, too, wanted to give their relationship a chance.

  Then again, coherent thought was next to impossible when she was touching him.

  She smiled as if she understood. “One thing that’s changed is my mind.”

  “Woman’s prerogative?”

  She tossed her blond head. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  He studied her. “You are a gift. A beautiful, sexy gift—”

  “—who’s waiting to be unwrapped,” she finished boldly.

  His mouth turned dry as chalk. “Are you sure?”

  It was his last attempt to resist her—although he could no longer remember why he had ever believed he should.

  “I’m absolutely sure.” She stroked her fingertips down his arm. “Unless your injury—”

  “What injury?”

  She gave him another dazzling smile, a wordless reassurance that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  He kissed her, deep ravenous kisses that left them both panting for more. Their tongues collided. Their teeth nipped at each other. Their tastes mingled to become one.

  Eventually, with her eyes encouraging him, he reached for the hem of her blouse. He eased it over her head, then undid her bra and freed her lovely breasts. Her nipples were just as sensitive as he remembered. They hardened immediately, stimulated by his admiring gaze. He bent his head so he could suckle her, his tongue swirling over one peak, then the other.

  She gasped, her blond hair tickling his wrists. He pressed his lips under her left breast, where he could feel her heart beating fast. He wanted to drive her wild. Make her burn for him. As he burned for her.

  He shifted position until she was lying on top of him. As he threaded his fingers through her luxurious, thick hair, he marveled at how beautiful, how desirable she was. How had he ever managed not to touch her?

  The mating of their mouths made him hunger for a more intimate coupling, but he wasn’t about to rush her. She would let him know when she was ready.

  After a moment, she eased into a kneeling position astride him. Bracing her hands on his biceps, she moved her pelvis provocatively against him. He felt himself grow harder. He was tempted to crush her to him, but he resisted to savor every delicious sensation. He traced the features of her lovely, flushed face. She parted her lips and sighed his name. He caressed her neck, her shoulders, her beautiful breasts. She slipped her hand under the waistband of his jeans.

  He caught his breath. Felt her touch him through the cotton of his BVDs. Anticipation was an exquisite torment—one he wasn’t sure he could endure for very long. He breathed in the fragrance of her skin, her hair. She was an erotic dream come true. Her soft, sweet mouth made him ache. Her seeking hand drove him mad. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman so desperately. When her fingers closed over him, he felt as if he were going to explode.

  Gritting his teeth, he fought for control. No good. He’d yearned for her too long. With a groan, he pulled her to him and rolled until they lay on their sides.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Protection,” he panted, reaching for his wallet.

  She tugged down his zipper. “Looking out for me yet again,” she murmured.

  He kicked off his jeans and underwear, while she did the same, then he quickly covered himself with the condom. He rolled back on top of her, exhaling deeply as their legs tangled together. Damn, she felt good. So good. So right.

  She urged him closer. Her mouth nibbled a wet path along his shoulder, her fingers gripped his back fiercely as she whispered passionate entreaties against his skin. “Please…I can’t…wait…anymore.”

  “Look at me,” he murmured.

  She opened her eyes. They were dark with desire, clouded with passion.

  “I want to see you,” he said. “And I want to know you see me.”

  She smiled. “I want you inside me.”

  It was what he wanted, too, more than anything. He entered her slowly, prolonging the moment, heightening the pleasure for both of them. Then he began to move, responding to her excited breathing and caresses.

  She twisted under him as he alternated shallow, controlled thrusts with deeper, wilder ones. She squeezed his buttocks and rubbed her breasts wantonly against his chest. Her uninhibited responses quickly shattered his rhythm—and his willpower. He didn’t want this union to end, but the need for release became overwhelming.

  She seemed to share his sense of urgency. “Now,” she gasped, lifting her hips off the couch.

  “Now,” he breathed, plunging into her fully.

  Her body went rigid. A heartbeat later, tremors convulsed her, and her inner muscles contracted around him. She expelled her breath in a deep, satisfied moan. The sound resonated inside him, and his control snapped. As his climax hit hard and fast, a shout escaped him. Then he collapsed on top of her.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed you were a screamer,” she said a moment later, but her voice held no censure, just a purring contentment.

  “I’m not,” he mumbled.

  “So what happened?” She rubbed her toes along his leg.

  He cracked open one eye. “You.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It was intended as one.”

  She pressed her lips to his shoulder. He didn’t want her to let him go. Not now. Not in an hour. Not anytime in the foreseeable future. His heart skipped a beat at the disconcerting thought. It wasn’t his way to think long term. Life was too uncertain. Situations tended to be fluid, and he had learned to go with the flow.

  But Claire wasn’t comfortable with uncertainty. She liked to know what to expect next, liked to make plans. She had made a plan to leave the Bureau.

  Tonight had proved their relationship deserved more time. Claire was the first woman he’d f
elt sexually and emotionally compatible with, and he wasn’t about to be cheated out of her company because she was having second thoughts about her career.

  Tomorrow, he’d convince her to make a new plan that included him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Whistling under his breath, Brent dug through the kitchen cupboards for coffee supplies. This morning he didn’t need caffeine to clear his foggy brain. Claire had done that with a few suggestive words and some bare skin. He definitely liked her way of waking up better.

  He found the filters, and soon the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. As he poured the hot, dark liquid into two stoneware mugs, he heard footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder.

  Claire wore black shorts and a bright red T-shirt. He let his gaze skim over her, from her bare toes, up the length of her shapely legs, to slim hips, a slender waist, perfect breasts and graceful shoulders. Her skin glowed, and her lips looked slightly swollen from his kisses. She made appreciative noises about the coffee, but he noticed her gaze slid away from his quickly.

  Uh-oh. Regrets?

  Her reaction stung more than he wanted to admit. Their lovemaking shouldn’t be something she regretted. She had been the one to come on to him last night, not the other way around. And again this morning.

  Turning to face her, he planted his butt against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. What was her problem?

  She glanced at Forrester’s CD on the kitchen table.

  His anger vanished in sudden understanding.

  With him next to her, she’d been able to forget what had brought them together. But left alone, she’d remembered the threat to her was gone, and Brent was no longer responsible to protect her. There was no reason for them to stay at the cabin any longer. No reason for them not to go their separate ways. No reason unless they wanted to be together.

  Closing the distance between them, he pulled her into his arms.

  AFTER A MOMENT’S hesitation, Claire relaxed against the solid wall of Brent’s chest. Her worries had been for nothing. Brent showed no signs of wanting to cut and run.

  She eased back from him. “How about I make pancakes to go with that coffee?”

  He stroked her hair with his fingertips. “I wish I could stay, but a debriefing meeting is scheduled at ten.”

  “Call me when you’re free.” She remembered her mother saying the exact same words to her father more times than she could count. Of course, this situation was different. Brent didn’t owe her an update on his activities—or anything else.

  He frowned. “Before I go, there’s something I want us to talk about.”

  An uncomfortable suspicion niggled at her. Was he concerned that she’d have unrealistic expectations about the two of them because of their lovemaking? Did she have unrealistic expectations?

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He hesitated, and her uneasiness grew.

  “I don’t want you to leave the Bureau,” he finally said.

  Definitely not what she’d been expecting.

  He must have seen her confusion because he blew out a frustrated breath. “I think we’re good together. I want to see more of you. But if you take that job in Minneapolis, this will be over before it really gets under way.”

  Happiness welled up inside her because he wanted to keep seeing her, but she held it in check. What kind of relationship did he have in mind? Casual? Or serious? It was too soon to know if they could be soul mates, but she didn’t want to get in any deeper if his attitude toward commitment hadn’t changed.

  “You want us to date?” she asked cautiously.

  He nodded.

  Disappointment butted up against the blossoming hope. “Does our dating stand a chance of becoming anything more?”

  He eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”

  “You told me you didn’t believe that people in your line of work should get married or have kids.”

  His whole body stiffened. “I know we’ve come a long way in a short time, but don’t you think discussing marriage is kind of premature?”

  “Of course it is.”

  He relaxed noticeably.

  “You’re asking me to turn down a terrific career opportunity, and I’m not willing to do that for a date or two.”

  “Claire—”

  “What if I stay here and fall in love with you? What then?” She wasn’t about to admit to him that it had already happened.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think we can predict the future.”

  “I know that,” she said, her voice rising in exasperation. “I’m not asking for guarantees. Just some reassurance that your heart isn’t completely closed.”

  His eyebrows slammed together. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this before we got naked last night.”

  Now she was the one who felt uncomfortable. “I don’t regret making love, if that’s what you mean. Being with you was an incredible, unforgettable experience.” She smiled even though part of her felt like crying. “But I want to know if there are limits on our relationship. Is that so unreasonable?”

  He shook his head. “You deserve to have what you want.”

  Could he be the man to give it to her? She didn’t dare ask him. Instead, she said, “What do you want?”

  He hesitated. “I thought I knew, but now…I’m not sure.”

  He could have told her what she wanted to hear, but he was too honest to take the easy way out. It was one of the things she admired about him, but the hurt made it difficult to continue the conversation.

  “You’re going to be late,” she murmured.

  “Do you want to come with me?”

  She shook her head. At this point, they could use the time apart to sort through their feelings.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.

  “I’ll be here.”

  He started toward her, as if he intended to kiss her good-bye, but she turned away. As much as she’d enjoyed his embrace earlier, she was feeling too raw and vulnerable to let him touch her now.

  “This isn’t finished,” he said from the doorway.

  He was right. Nothing had been resolved. Even so, she felt a sense of relief that their conversation would be postponed until later. Hopefully, she’d know what to do then.

  AN HOUR LATER, Claire stood gazing out at the lake. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, but its absence didn’t detract from the beauty of the place or the peace she had come to know here. She was going to miss this view. But much more than that, she was going to miss Brent.

  She’d reached a conclusion, one that was hard to accept, yet ultimately realistic. Despite everything that had happened between them, they weren’t destined to be a couple. No amount of discussion was going to alter his attitude toward commitment. If he promised her anything more now, it would only be because she’d pressured him into it. Her heart would end up broken when he realized a long-term relationship wasn’t what he truly wanted.

  Having made a decision about Brent, she now needed to do the same about her career. If she remained at the Bureau, Brent’s presence would be a constant reminder of what she wanted but couldn’t have. Only a masochist would subject herself to that kind of pain, especially when there was a ready alternative. She would take the job at Balanced Life Consulting Group and move to Minneapolis. Once there, she’d be so busy adjusting to her new environment, she’d have little time to brood about Brent.

  She was tempted to call Marcy Dearborne, CEO of the company, knowing if she made that commitment, she wouldn’t back out of it. But she felt she owed Gene the courtesy of quitting her job with him before accepting another.

  She punched in his number, then chewed on her fingernail as she waited for the call to connect.

  When Gene came on the line, she cleared her throat. “It’s Claire. Do you have a minute?”

  “Yeah, I’m between meetings.”

  She knew this wasn’t the ideal time to break her news, but she wanted it over with. �
��I’ve decided to resign from my position at the Bureau.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She cringed at the harshness of his tone. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I don’t think the Bureau’s the right place for me anymore.”

  “Why not?” Gene demanded.

  Because Brent works there. She couldn’t say that, and it wasn’t the whole story, anyway. She’d been dissatisfied for months. “I don’t feel that I’m helping anybody.”

  “You know these guys, Claire. They don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, but they still have problems. You’re great at getting people to open up to you.”

  “Maybe in the past,” she conceded. “But right now, I’m burned out.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. “This is Brent’s doing, isn’t it?”

  “I was thinking about quitting before I ever met Brent.”

  “Why don’t you come in tomorrow so we can talk—”

  “There’s no point,” she interrupted. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  When Gene finally spoke, the bewilderment in his voice was nearly palpable. “Are you sure you’re leaving for the right reason?”

  She should be able to answer his question without hesitation, but the words wouldn’t come. Her thoughts about Brent and the Bureau had become hopelessly intertwined, and she couldn’t seem to separate one from the other. Would she look back one day and realize she’d left a job she was uniquely qualified to do simply because of a failed romance? Or was she only second-guessing what she knew in her heart to be the right decision because of her feelings for Brent?

  “I…I have to go now,” she said, her voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. “I’ll call you later to finalize the details.”

  Intending to be on her way soon, she packed her carry case and set it by the front door. It was hard to believe only a week had passed since she’d caught her first glimpse of the cabin. In that short time, she’d grown surprisingly attached to the place, but it was an attachment she knew she had to let go of. Just as she knew she had to let go of Brent.