The Protector

by HelenKay Dimon

  He shook his head but his hands went to the sides of her waist. “I’m trying not to be a dick here. Being back near Sullivan has my defenses down. Being with you would be so easy.”

  “I never agreed we were having sex.” She said the word every ten seconds now.

  He looked down at the sliver of space between their upper bodies. “You’re on my lap.”

  “You’re comfortable.”

  A muscle in his cheek jumped as he sat there, watching her, his gaze sweeping over her and always landing back on her mouth. “I can’t risk someone else coming here and then getting caught naked and—”

  “Are you talking yourself back to that place where you think sex between us is a bad idea?” She hated that. The flirting freed her and suddenly she did not want to lose that.

  “There might be a battle between common sense and damn, I want her happening in my head right now.” His hands clenched and unclenched against her waist until his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to rest on bare skin.

  “Stop thinking.” She pulled back as far as his hold would allow, which was not far. “Unless you’re not interested.”

  “You’re sitting on my lap. I’m pretty sure you know I’m interested.”

  Oh, she could feel him. His hardness pressed against her inner thigh. That had to be the cause of the harsh breathing beating in her lungs. “I mean, I don’t want to mess with your vow of work celibacy or . . . whatever.”

  He dropped his head until his cheek rested against hers. “You’re killing me here.”

  “Should I get up?”

  If anything, he tugged her in closer. “No.”

  She waited for him to make the move. She’d been clear. Being with him there on the bed was the only thing that did make sense to her tonight. She opened her mouth to point that out when the room spun around her. With an arm locked on her waist he turned her, easing her back down onto the mattress.

  His shoulders blocked the overhead light as he loomed over her. When he dipped his head, she lifted her shoulders and met him halfway. The kiss burned through her, wiping out every thought except the sensation of his fingers tunneling up her shirt and his leg trapped between her thighs.

  His weight anchored her to the bed as his hand cupped her cheek, holding her still for his blinding kisses. She bent her leg with her foot flat against the mattress and cradled his body against hers.

  The lights dimmed as his mouth moved down her neck. He trailed kisses over her collarbone to the hollow at the base of her throat. Everywhere she touched she felt miles of rock-hard muscle. Wanting nothing between them, she tugged his shirt up his back. He lifted his chest off her just long enough to strip it off and throw it on the floor. Then he was back, his hands roaming over her, igniting every nerve ending he brushed over.

  His hands settled on her breasts. That expert mouth pushed her shirt to the side and nuzzled the bare skin he found underneath. Her earlier frustration gave way to a new kind of tension. It ratcheted up inside her, thumping harder when one of his hands slipped down her body to land on the zipper of her jeans. With a few flicks of his fingers he had the button open and his hand slid inside.

  He took his time savoring her nipple with his mouth as his finger swirled over the outside of her underwear. The move from meeting to this had been crazy fast but her brain had shut down. Pleasure rocked through her when his finger slipped under the elastic band. The tip swirled over her before he slid it inside her.

  Her hips arched as his finger moved. The rhythmic in and out beat in time with the pounding in her chest. She grabbed on to his forearms trying to push back the sensations swirling through her, to make it last longer. Nothing stopped the tightening. It wound inside her until her heels dug into the mattress and her teeth snapped together.

  One last lick of his tongue over her nipple and her body bucked. The pulsing took over as her orgasm crashed over her. She could smell him, feel him, and when she lifted her head and buried her face in the space between his shoulder and neck, she could taste him.

  The trembling finally stopped as she settled back in the bed. She looked down the length of her body and saw her shirt shoved to the side and her bra undone with his hand still inside her jeans. He once called her a genius but she was pretty sure that was him. He had her half undressed and panting and she did not have a single regret.

  He pushed up on his elbow and balanced his body over hers. “Well then.”

  “That worked.” Her body still trembled as the last wave of pleasure settled deep inside her.

  “We need to take showers and get some sleep.” His voice sounded rough and scratchy.

  She took that as a compliment as she looked him over. That bulge in his pants was hard to miss. “We’re really not using the condoms to take care of that?”

  “Not tonight.”

  Part of her still believed he was joking. Like, pretending he had all this self-control but would fold in the end. “You prefer to save condoms until Thursdays or something? Is this a rule?”

  “We need some rest if we’re getting on the road tomorrow.”

  Good grief, he was serious.

  “You can rest with that?” She brushed the back of her hand over his length and his body jumped in response.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d take care of it in the shower.” He shrugged. “Or I can.”

  Or he could and she could watch. She couldn’t believe how sexy that idea sounded. He’d probably prefer her mouth on him, but she vowed to circle back to the watching-him option later, another night since he seemed determined to hold on to his control tonight . . . for some reason.

  “Once we’re away from Salvation then we can—”

  Again with this? “No, Damon.”

  He pushed up higher on his elbow. “We’re heading out of here, Cate. As much as I hate to admit it, Trevor is right. It’s too risky being here.”

  It was a little hard to take the harsh tone seriously with his hand still trapped between her legs. “You’re going to find I don’t do well with being ordered around.”

  “And you’ll see that I won’t think twice about wrapping you in a sheet and carrying you to the car if it means keeping you safe.”

  That was kind of sweet. In a really weird way that she wasn’t quite ready to admit. She also refused to back down on this. “The answer is still no.”

  “This is not up for debate.”

  She put her hand on his cheek and brought him in for a lingering kiss. “Agreed.”

  He pulled his hand out of her jeans and rested it on her bare stomach. “Cate.”

  If they stayed in this position too long she might give in, so she sat up. “I’m showering.” Since he looked so confused and disgruntled, she kissed the wrinkles on his forehead. “We can either keep fighting or you can join me.”

  He groaned. “That’s not fair.”

  She threw her legs over the side of the bed. For a second she wondered if her legs would hold her. He’d sapped her strength and reduced her muscles to mush. “Is that a yes?”

  He was around the bed before her feet hit the floor.

  An hour later, she lay in bed with her back pressed against his front. He wore his briefs and she put on a pair of bikini bottoms after the shower, but that was their only nod to the willpower it took not to use the condoms tonight. She’d gotten on her knees in the bathroom then he returned the favor once they were back in bed.

  It was now after midnight and she couldn’t move. Didn’t really want to. The air conditioner blew a light breeze over the bed as it provided white noise for the room.

  She had just started drifting off when she felt his arm tense around her. The palm on her stomach curled into a ball. She turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  He lifted his upper body off her and the mattress and stared into the darkness of the room. “I thought I heard something at the door.”

  “I really hate this motel.” She fell back into the mattress as she tried to ready her body for another fight
. So much for resting and just enjoying the feel of him pressed up against her until morning.

  “Which is why we’re leaving.” He took the verbal shot as he got out of bed and hugged the wall on his way around the room. “And do not move.”

  “You are relentless.”

  “I’m going to pretend you meant that as a compliment.” One second he stood there. Then the next, he ducked down over at the couch, out of sight.

  She was about to jump out of bed when he popped up again. He had what looked like an envelope in his hand. “What is that?”

  He turned it around a few times before opening it. “A note.”

  “The guy who tried to slice you into pieces is sending us thank-you notes now?” She really did not understand Salvation at all.

  “Someone is.” He walked back to her and sat down on the edge of the bed as he scanned the note.

  Something about his slumped shoulders tipped her off to a problem. Anxiety welled in her gut. He’d relaxed the tension right out of her earlier, but now it was back. At first in waves, but she knew a tsunami was coming.

  “Want to fill me in?” she asked, though she really didn’t want to know. A little ignorance might be a relief right about now.

  “Not really.” He turned the envelope over and studied the back of it. “It’s an invitation to visit Sullivan.”

  She scrambled to her knees on the bed and held the thin sheet up to her chest. “What?”

  “Later this morning.” He shook his head and his voice sounded hollow, almost far away. “We’re invited to go to Sullivan.”

  Hope flickered inside her. “I guess that settles it.”

  He frowned. “Meaning?”

  “This is exactly what we wanted. It’s why we’re here.” She’d gotten close before only to have a witness shut down. Not this time. She’d be more careful, maybe a bit more graceful. Definitely abandon the rush to get answers and, instead, let people divulge whatever they needed to say but on their own terms. In her excitement for answers she couldn’t forget any of that . . . or that she was supposed to be in love with Damon. “We can’t leave because we have a date with potential killers this morning.”

  His hand fell to his side and the note landed on the bed. “That’s not funny.”

  He grumbled under his breath as he dropped back into the pillows. She thought about responding but decided he wasn’t really looking for a conversation.

  A few seconds later, his arm slipped around her waist again. She was about to tell him goodnight when he whispered against her neck, “I’m never going to be ready to go back there.”

  That made two of them. “I’ll be with you.”

  “That’s part of what scares me.”

  Chapter 10

  Damon stood in front of the gates to the Sullivan property and fought for breath. Being this close caused the memories to crash in on him. Running around with the other kids. Sitting through lectures about behavior. Being dragged away in handcuffs.

  Cate got it right last night. Getting a welcome invitation inside was huge. But now that it had happened, Damon realized the truth—he hadn’t been prepared for how this would feel.

  “Hey.”

  Cate’s soft voice slipped past the images racing through his mind. The here and now came floating back to him as she brushed her hand up and down his arm. She hadn’t left his side since they got out of the car.

  The whole drive over he kept up a running monologue, listing all the reasons coming here sounded good but was not smart. Too risky. Too many variables he couldn’t control. Too out in the open. Also too closed off behind gates. Too many people with guns. Too . . . everything. She’d listened to all of it, not even complaining when his voice rose or he swore in a combination that even he hadn’t put together before. He hadn’t aimed any part of the tirade at her and her silence said she got that.

  His fingers slid through hers and he held on even though he knew he should step back. Give her room and him a minute to find his equilibrium again. “It’s fine.”

  “We can go away for now and try this later.” She shrugged. “Maybe get a burger. I’m sure someone serves them for breakfast.”

  She was trying to make this easier on him. He got that. Tension thrummed off her. The part of her that needed to be here kicked as hard as the part of him that wanted to flee. For her, for her sister, he’d get through this. Face the demons he’d pretended no longer existed.

  He squeezed her hand then let it drop. “We’re here for Shauna. I can block everything else out.”

  “Oh, Damon.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re allowed to ask for help.”

  “I’m good.”

  Her fingers skimmed over his bare arm as if she sensed she should keep the lifeline between them open. “This whole I-can-do-it-alone attitude of yours might work in movies but as a characteristic in real-life men . . .” She made the same face she did when he told her he ate a burger every day. “It’s not that great. Kind of awful, actually. And, worse, it’s not real. Human beings need other human beings. I’d be lost without the three friends I trust to tell me that my skirt is tucked into my underwear.”

  The comments and the gentle way she delivered them ground his guilt to a fine point. Sleeping with her, touching her, listening to those enticing little sounds she made as she came . . . he didn’t deserve that. He never should have taken any of it.

  She looked at him, talked to him, like she would look and talk to any other person. Without even knowing, through her words and smiles, she reached out to make a connection. In her head, she likely thought they had. It would explain her climbing on his lap and letting him take off her clothes. But it didn’t exist. He couldn’t reach across to her and if she kept trying eventually he’d snap. “There’s one thing you need to know before we go any further.”

  “About this place?”

  He wanted to step back, break the physical tie between them. Maybe less touching would make it easier, only his feet refused to move. “About us being together.”

  A frown wrinkled her forehead. “Okay . . .”

  “I know this is fake and what happened last night was probably adrenaline and—”

  “Damon, just say it.”

  “The things that happened behind these gates, it burned every feeling, every emotion, right out of me. What you see in front of you is all that’s left. A shell.” He shook his head and repeated the words that had been echoing in his brain since he started the car this morning. “I’ve said pieces of this to you before, but I don’t want to play you or lead you to a place I can’t follow.”

  She snorted. “You’re telling me you’re dead inside?”

  He would have appreciated her skipping the sound effects, but . . . “Yes.”

  “That’s what this is about?”

  “I . . . wait.” He couldn’t force a decent sentence out over the stammering.

  “We’ll talk about that later.”

  Maybe she needed more eye contact or something. He was about to try again when the deep voice that haunted his dreams called out.

  “You came.” The words cut out just as the ten-foot-tall black metal gates rolled open.

  The man in the guardhouse sat twenty feet away and didn’t get up to greet them. People milled around in the distance, walking around the Sullivan grounds. But coming at them, just a man and a woman. The man. Steven Sullivan, tall and slim and not yet sixty. He’d held on to his youth and could easily pass for forty-something. He walked at a fast clip down the gentle slope of the driveway. The move showed off his athletic build. The sun highlighted the salt-and-pepper in his once dark brown hair.

  The mouth. The eyes. All so familiar. The only wild card here was the woman with him. Young, blonde and pretty. Petite and holding a notebook. Dressed in a short skirt and casual top in a look Damon guessed would fit in on any campus.

  But this was not any campus and he was not just any man. This was the man Damon once called Dad and now didn’t call at all.

  The man’s gaze h
esitated on Damon before he turned to Cate and held out his hand. “I’m Steven Sullivan. Welcome.”

  She took it. Damon could only guess what that cost her. Here was the man she blamed for her sister’s death dressed as if they were going to play golf and smiling as if they were old friends.

  He gestured for them to come through the gate. “There’s no need to wait out here. Come inside.”

  “We’re good here.” Those were the first words Damon had spoken to his father in a decade. Damon couldn’t believe he got them out without choking.

  His father frowned and the disappointed expression, so familiar, set off an ache deep in Damon’s chest. In light of what happened here, the law enforcement involvement and all the rumors, growing up in this place should have been a horror. It wasn’t. Some of Damon’s memories were good. The group dinners. The football games on the open field near the food greenhouses. Carefree and loving . . . until he turned sixteen.

  “I invited you as soon as I heard you were nearby. I’d like you to come in and see that things are different here now.” Steven swept his arm around him, showing off what looked like newly built cabins and the various people standing on ladders fixing up what used to be the main meeting hall.

  On the outside, all shiny. Damon knew the inside was what mattered. “You still lock the gates.”

  “You can understand how the security doesn’t exactly make people want to walk in.” Cate shrugged. “You know, because they actually can’t.”

  “The security is here for our protection.” The woman Damon didn’t recognize started talking, clearly comfortable to take the floor from Steven. “You’d be surprised how many tourists want to take photos, how many amateur journalists come here looking for a story.”

  Steven smiled as he stepped away from the woman standing next to him. It was a subtle move, just a shift of his feet, but it happened. “This is Liza Henderson, my assistant.”