Pawn (Ironclad Bodyguards 1)

by Molly Joseph

  Al Raji laughed. “A very talented chess player? That does not touch the half of it. She is an extraordinary woman.” He lapsed into Arabic, as Mr. Albourg pulled Grace into conversation. “She has the courage of a thousand lions,” he said in a confiding tone. “She will make a fine wife, and a laudable mother for your children.”

  Sam opened his mouth, then shut it again. Mr. Albourg beckoned Al Raji to pose for another picture with him and Grace, and then the Saudi man left with a small contingent of friends and security guards. “Are you ready to go?” Sam asked Grace. “I think the others would like to see you, and congratulate you on your victory.”

  She nodded, then paused and took his hand. “Do you want to know a secret? I didn’t really win. Al Raji let me win, to escape another draw.”

  Sam stared at her in puzzlement. “Oh.” That explained her expression at the end, the sad confusion. “But you’re okay with that?”

  “What he said to me was true. We’re evenly matched, so that part of it wasn’t important anymore. He decided, all things being equal, it was better for me to win.”

  “Or maybe he felt you deserved to win, for being so brave through all of this.” He signaled for her security escort and guided her toward the door. “He told me you had the courage of a thousand lions.”

  Grace regarded him with suspicion. “What else did he say to you?”

  “That you would make a fine wife and a laudable mother.” He chuckled at her expression as they turned into the hall. “I have to say I agree with him.”

  “Okay. But you know, I have this chess match to prepare for next year.”

  She was making a joke, this time he was sure of it. He squeezed her elbow and whispered, “I’m going to steal you away. I’m going to kidnap you and stash you in my lair, and if you wanna play chess, you’ll have to earn those pieces, baby. One at a time.”

  She appeared fascinated by this idea, so fascinated she almost collided with the agent in front of her. “That sounds like a dastardly plan.”

  “Oh, I have dastardly plans for you, all right.”

  She blushed, blinking up at him just as a great cheer erupted from the crowd gathered in the lobby. Grace turned and gave a shy wave before the QueenOps agents hustled her along toward their private room.

  “Do you promise you’ll steal me away?” she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.

  She looked so incredibly beautiful when she was shy and horny. Chess champion or not, he wanted to eat her alive. “I’m definitely stealing you away, now that all this is done. I’ve already made the arrangements,” he said, and that wasn’t a lie. They were going somewhere to hang out for a while, to hide and lay low.

  “Where are you taking me?” she persisted.

  “I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”

  “You won’t even give me a hint?”

  “Nope. You’ll find out once you’re kidnapped.”

  She leaned closer to him. “Is there water there? At this place you’re taking me?”

  “Of course there’s water,” he promised. “For drinking and other things.”

  “Are there seashells there? Koala bears?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Skyscrapers?”

  “Don’t try to figure it out, Grace. I won’t tell you. You won’t get it out of me. Although you should already know.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not Helsinki, is it?”

  “There’s not a frozen chance in hell we’re ever going back to Helsinki.”

  “Tell me,” she begged, skipping alongside him. “Tell me where we’re going.”

  “No.”

  The agents opened the door and Grace left him to run inside and embrace all her friends. Renzo whooped and spun her in a circle. Krishna hugged her and cried. Mem kissed her on both cheeks and asked for an autograph. Liam gave Sam a thumbs up.

  As for him, he stood staring at Grace like a besotted idiot.

  Oh yes. After all the chess-championship drama the woman had put him through, she was going to earn every. single. piece.

  Chapter Seventeen: Like Music

  “Chess is life.” —Bobby Fischer

  Grace crawled across the wide, luxurious bed and straddled her lover. Sam gazed back at her, his lips pursed with anticipation. His fingers trailed up her thighs.

  “You’re a fucking temptress,” he said.

  She smiled and leaned toward him as his hands tightened on her hips. She massaged his shoulders, delighting in the definition of his muscles. His cock poked between her legs, ready to press inside her, but she wanted to admire him for a moment first. She traced his jaw, licking the dark sheen of stubble. Since they’d come to Versailles to hide out and relax, Sam didn’t shave as often. Sometimes they went an entire day without rolling out of bed.

  She licked down the column of his throat. “I love you,” she whispered against his skin, too quietly for him to hear. His chest rose and fell against hers. She never got tired of exploring his body, his scents, all his masculine textures. Rough stubble, warm lips, the crisp, curling hair on his chest. Then there were those other parts...

  She inched down, tracing her tongue over his sculpted abs, and kissing the “V” of muscles pointing down to his cock. She stroked up and down his length, then licked around the top of his shaft. She wasn’t really good at this yet, but he didn’t seem to mind. She was practicing. A lot.

  He groaned and held her hair back from her face. “That’s right, baby. Earn that rook. Show me how much you want it.”

  She smiled and enthusiastically applied herself to worshipping his cock. She had every chess piece now but one...the white rook. Her board sat across the room, on the polished glass table where they ate French bread and cafe au lait for breakfast. All the pieces were lined up, pieces she’d earned through abandoned and lascivious acts.

  “Come here. Turn around,” he said. He scooted down and rearranged her so her knees were beside his shoulders. When she leaned down to take him in her mouth again, he grabbed her hips and laved her pussy with his tongue. She gasped at the hot, wet pleasure. Within seconds, her whole body was trembling, her hips jerking for more of the delicious contact.

  “Don’t stop,” he said in a rough voice. “Do you want that rook or not?”

  She refocused herself to licking and sucking his cock, mimicking his own abandoned ministrations. As she mouthed him, she stroked his balls and the lower part of his shaft, which she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She loved the noises he made, loved the vibration of his groans and moans against her clit. He gripped her ass cheeks, squeezed them as he pulled her closer. Her pussy throbbed as he aroused her without mercy. A few months ago, she couldn’t have imagined this kind of connection, this deep surrender to another person’s will, but she trusted Sam completely. She’d trusted him, after all, with her life.

  She cupped his balls and swirled her tongue around his thick length. Oh God, she wanted him inside her. “Fuck me, please,” she said. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to take me hard.”

  He smacked her bottom and moved her again, tossing her onto her stomach across the bed. When she tried to turn around, he made a noise and held her down. She loved the way he manhandled her, barely leashed violence, intense passion that never, ever hurt. He spread her legs and lifted her hips, and impaled her with a satisfied growl.

  “Oh, my God,” she cried, clutching the sheets. “That feels...so...hot...” Every time he thrust inside her, the fullness and tightness caught her anew. They fit perfectly together, and now that she was on birth control, they didn’t have to use condoms. Skin against skin, warm and slick, with his hands all over her, caressing and stroking, and pinching her nipples as they rubbed against the bed. He lay on top of her and stretched her arms over her head, and told her to keep them there.

  And when he spoke to her that way, when he was deep inside her, she obeyed. Did she want the rook or not?

  His arm came around her waist and tightened, and his other hand stroked her clit, teas
ing touches that made her buck back against his hips.

  “I love when you touch me there,” she said. “It feels like you’re turning me inside out. Like everything about me is centered right there.”

  “I love everything about you,” he said, nibbling on her ear.

  “Except that I talk too much during sex.”

  “Shh.”

  “It’s just that it’s so amazing. You feel so amazing inside me. I don’t know if it’s just you, or—”

  He pulled out of her, flipped her over, and gazed down at her. “It’s just me,” he said. His hard cock waited outside her entrance. “Do you want more?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say you want it.”

  “Fuck me. Please!”

  He draped her legs over his arms and eased into her, inch by inch, making her ache and whine and want him. When he finally filled her up, he stayed still inside her, holding her legs so she couldn’t move. “Just me,” he said with an intent look. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this way, because you belong to me.”

  “Yes.” She nodded as hard as she could, while simultaneously dying for him to move. “Please,” she begged, arching her hips.

  He withdrew and pressed in again, and again, slowly and deliberately driving her to madness. “I’m going to come in ten freaking seconds,” she said.

  “I know. I can feel that you are, baby. You’re gonna come hard.” He eased out, then eased in again. “Come on. I want to watch you come with my cock deep in your hot pussy.”

  The place they were connected felt like the center of all existence. She didn’t say that. In part because she knew it was weird, and in part because she couldn’t, because Sam was going to make her come and she couldn’t catch her breath. Maybe she’d tell him later. It felt like this pretty much every time.

  “Please...” She threw out her arms and he leaned down and caught her up. They pressed together so tightly that their sweat mingled along with their scents. His sexy stubble scratched her cheek. His hips pumped against her and his cock filled her walls, and her clit throbbed with the need for release. They slid across the sheets, and then she was coming, coming hard just as he said. He was coming too, driving inside her with a bitten-off oath.

  She loved coming, but it was scary in some way, because when an orgasm took over her, everything else fell away. It was just her body and her need, her physical reaction. But it was okay. Even in this Sam protected her, held her down so she couldn’t fly away. Not that she would really fly away. It only felt like that. She’d explained all that to him once, afterward, and he’d nodded his head and said, “I know.”

  Because he understood her, even if he didn’t babble during sex quite so much.

  Later, after she’d calmed and recuperated, Sam stood up and went to the carved hotel chest of drawers, and opened the top one. He took out her white rook and brought it back to the bed. He held it up in front of her face. “You want it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, please.”

  He trailed the wooden figure down her neck and between her breasts, and over to a tautly pointed nipple. “I suppose you earned it. I suppose you earned all of them. Now I’ll have to find some other way to lure you to bed.”

  Grace laughed and grabbed the piece before he could trail it down to her pussy. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  He kissed her and she hugged him closer, clasping the rook in her fingers. Sam’s dog tag lay warm against her chest. He gazed down at it, then turned it over so he could see the words.

  “Now that your chess set is complete again, I imagine you’ll want to get back to it.”

  Grace stroked his dark, wavy hair, and cupped his cheek. “I don’t know. Chess isn’t the only thing in my life anymore. I have to make room for other things.”

  “Like...?”

  “Croissants.”

  Sam barked out a laugh and turned her over, and spanked her butt until she shrieked and rescinded her answer. “You,” she gasped. “I promise I’ll make room for you.”

  She squiggled out from underneath him and went to place the white rook with the other pieces on the board: the stately kings and queens, the somber bishops, and the pawns, lined up in their neat rows. And the knights, of course, ready to charge over other pieces to the rescue.

  Those pieces were her companions, dearly loved, but they were nothing compared to the man who’d come to stand beside her. He was her universe, her soul, and her heart.

  She looked back at him with an impish smile, and gestured to the chess board. “We’re going to be hiding in France a little while longer, aren’t we? Maybe you should take all the pieces away from me again.”

  *** *** ***

  At least every other day, Sam escorted Grace from their luxe hotel near Trianon to the adjacent gardens of Versailles. They strolled along endless paths, among manicured trees and parterres of flowers. Beyond the gardens loomed the grand chateau where Marie Antoinette and her twelve bodyguards had lived. Grace adored the chateau, of course. It was the whole reason he’d brought her here, so she could explore Marie Antoinette’s world. They’d visited the great house constantly in the beginning. But now she preferred the garden, as the weather turned from blooming spring to shining summer.

  Today, Grace stopped by a fountain. It was sunny and crowded, but they found a place to sit and watch the cascading water.

  “Look how the sun reflects in the mist,” she said. “It’s so pretty. I want to go swimming.”

  “I don’t think that’s allowed.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. They’d been here over a month, but he wasn’t bored of her company. The more time they spent together, the more she fascinated him. Now that she wasn’t stressing about chess, she was softer, more stable, and beautifully open to all the small details of life, like the way the sun reflected in the mists of Versailles’ fountains.

  Of course, he loved the other Grace too, the one who got crazy and competitive. She’d be back all too soon. Grace had some high profile matches and tournaments scheduled in the fall, but that was the Grace he’d fallen in love with in the first place. This other Grace was just a bonus.

  She readjusted the dark sunglasses she wore for anonymity, and snuggled against his arm. He lifted it up and wrapped it around her. When they were at the hotel together, they ended up in bed—always. In the chateau, Grace stayed preoccupied with the historical placards and the ornate decor. But here in the gardens, they simply existed together, and had long conversations about life and love, and the future. They spent a lot of time discussing what Grace ought to do next, after they left Versailles.

  There was still danger. There were still people interested in bothering her, although there were less threats now than right after the World Championship. Sam was still, ostensibly, working through Ironclad as her bodyguard, although he no longer received paychecks. He supposed he had become her dependent. He had plenty of his own money saved up, but she wouldn’t let him use it. Her chess income paid for everything, and her endorsement agreements were going to bring in a sizable fortune over the next few years.

  But Sam had paid for one thing: the antique diamond ring in his pocket. He ran his fingers over the round outline, remembering how Grace had cooed over it when they were browsing the local shops. “It’s so lovely,” she had sighed. “So intricate. Like music.”

  And that’s when he had known he would sneak back and buy it for her, and hold it out to her, and ask her to marry him. Because she was so lovely, and so intricate.

  Like music.

  “Gracie,” he said. “Do you remember when we talked about family? About Zeke being your real family? And about my family, and how I changed my name because of the Arab thing?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “I think I’m going to change my name back. You could still call me Sam if you wanted to. But my license and passport and everything would say ‘Salim’ again. What do you think?”

  She touched his leg, then squeezed it. “I think that would
be a great idea. I think it would be very brave.”

  He smiled and rested his cheek against her hair. “Not especially brave, compared to what some people have gone through. But I think it would be more respectful to my mother. I think it would make her happy.”

  “Would it make you happy?”

  He didn’t have to think very long. “Yes. In some way, I haven’t been myself since I changed my name. I haven’t felt honest. And I want to be an honest person.”

  She looked up at him, her brows drawn together in question. “I think you’re an honest person. You’ve always been honest with me. At least it seems that way.”

  “You’re easy to be honest with.” He laced his fingers through hers. “So it wouldn’t bother you if I changed my name?”

  She shrugged. “I love you no matter what.”

  That shrug, and her ingenuous declaration, made him love her even more. Every day, she did things that made him love her more, and more, and more.

  “Gracie, there’s something else I want to ask you.”

  She pushed her glasses up on her nose and turned to him with her smiling, unwary gaze. “What’s that, Salim?” She squeezed his leg again, her grin widening. “I’m just getting used to it, okay? I really kind of like it. It gives you this new, exotic flair.”

  Sam had a whole speech prepared, a big romantic spiel, but instead he fell to his knees and dug in his pocket. “I wanted to ask you...if you would like to...if you would do me the honor of...” He finally managed to pull out the ring. “Grace, I want you to marry me. I need you to marry me. I want you and me to be a family, and be together forever, because I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world.”

  She didn’t speak right away, just stared down at the ring.

  “I know we only talked about it a little,” he said. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, so if you need time to think before you answer, that’s okay. We can have a lengthy engagement if you want, wait until after the match next spring—”