Blood pooled in his groin, telling him, at least, how much he liked it. Every primitive instinct he owned reared inside him at her words, at her invitation, at the fact that he could possess her as no man ever had before. He was a breath away from accepting her offer, when the fluttering of the curtains at the window diverted his attention. The window where he’d stood when this woman’s father had told him eighteen years ago exactly what kind of man he was. Cord had changed since then, but if he took Helene’s daughter up on her offer, all that would be lost. He couldn’t be again what he was eighteen years ago, so he scrambled for some words that would release him from the velvet bonds of her confession. He sought something kind to say.
“Listen to me, Anastasia,” he finally said as gently as he could. “You’re caught up in the situation. What seems romantic to you now will pale once this nightmare is over. You’d regret giving me this precious gift.”
Her smile was a legacy from Jezebel. “Never.” Close now, she fitted herself to him. “I love you, Cord.”
The words were manna from heaven, feeding his troubled soul. But he had to refuse the feast, had to walk away from the banquet. Worse, to get his point across, he’d have to be cruel. And cutting. Though every fiber of his being protested, he said, “No, little girl, you don’t love me. You’ll see that soon enough. Meanwhile, I guess I’m just gonna have to tell you. You’re not my type.”
For as long as Cord lived, he’d never forget the look on Stacey’s face. Etched on her features was hurt so deep, he knew instinctively she’d never forgive him. She looked as if she was going to puke. He was on the verge of reaching for her, and taking back every blasphemous word, when she jerked away from him and tore out of the room. Eventually, he heard her bedroom door slam.
Cord couldn’t breathe. He felt as sick as she looked. He strode out to the patio. Sinking onto a chair, he buried his face in his hands.
He didn’t know how much later it was—ten minutes or sixty—when he was roused from his self-flagellation by a rustle at the doorway to the pool area.
Stacey stood silhouetted by the inside light, dressed in cutoffs and an oversize shirt, keys jangling in her hand. Like a man condemned, he forced himself to look at her face. Her flawless skin was mottled; red splotches marred her cheeks. But it was her eyes that leveled him. They were crimson-rimmed from crying; worse, the look in them caught him behind the knees. There was no accusation, no rage, no resentment. He could have handled those, he would have preferred those. But her always-animated eyes had turned muddy with sadness—a bleak, old, weary grief that he couldn’t look at.
“Are you all right?” Was that ancient, gravelly sound his voice?
She bit her lip, but angled her chin. From underneath the broken exterior, her grit surfaced. “No, I’m not all right. What I need right now is to be alone. I’ve got to get out of here.” Her gaze whipped around the deck area, then landed on him with an almost audible thud. “I’ve got to get away from you for a little while.”
His body tightened. As insults went, it was mild. But it cut deep. “No.”
Squaring her shoulders, she matched his implacable stare. “You don’t understand. I’ve got to be alone for a while. I need to...get back to myself...and I can’t do that while you’re around.”
“Then do it in your room. Or downstairs. I’ll stay away from you, but you’re not going anywhere.”
He could see her stretch to keep the icy calm that had come over her. Then she said, “I’ll be careful. I’ll lock the doors to the car. I’ll stay on town roads—I’ll just drive up and down Market Street if I have to.”
“I said no.”
“Cord, you don’t understand.”
“No. I’m sorry, Stacey. You can’t.”
The icy calm melted. Fiery fury replaced it, her eyes darkening to burning charcoal. “I’m not a child you can order around. If I was, I’d have stormed out without telling you.” She raised her chin. “I could have done that, and you wouldn’t have been able to catch me.” She punctuated her comment with a look that said, you jerk and finished, “No matter how hard you try, you can’t make me into something I’m not. I’m handling this maturely. I’m telling you what I need. Right now, I have to get away from you.” Her glare slapped him in the face. “I am leaving.”
Pivoting, she went back inside, crossed through the den, then disappeared. It took him a few seconds to react. By the time he got to the front door, she had it open.
He slammed it shut with a force born of frustration, anger and desire. He let the anger override the other painful emotions. “I said you’re not going anywhere.”
She reached for the door handle again, but her efforts were futile. Physically, at least, he was much stronger than she was. She turned and tried to sidestep him, but he blocked her way with his body. Finally, she raised blistering eyes at him and snapped, “I’m leaving, Cord. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to do it bodily.”
He was pretty sure she didn’t mean it as a challenge. But he didn’t particularly care. At the moment, his sole concern was keeping her safe. So he bent over, hooked his hands behind her knees and tossed her over his shoulder. Then he headed up the staircase.
“Let me go...” She started to kick, so he grabbed her feet. She pounded his back and his shoulder, which began to ache with her weight and her pummeling.
“Cord, let me go. You can’t do this to me!”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, hiking up the steps. “Watch me.”
Reaching the top, he crossed the twenty-foot hallway in record time. He kicked open the door to the sitting room, stalked in, dropped her onto the couch, then went back to the door to lock it. When he did, she scrambled off the sofa and bounded for the bathroom. He heard her lock the-door from inside. No doubt she meant to exit through her adjoining bedroom. “Forget it, babe.” He lifted his foot and put it through the hollow-core door. It splintered, and he finished the job by kicking the lock open. On the other side of the bathroom, her mouth agape, Stacey froze. For a moment. Then she raced to her room.
He tackled her on the bed. Their chests met with counterpoint gulps of breath as he pinned her beneath him. Her eyes sparked fire. “You wouldn’t dare keep me here by force.”
“Oh, I’d dare, all right.” Then, gazing down at her, close enough to see the anger but also the trace of fear in those beautiful eyes he loved, the rage drained out of him as quickly as it had come. His voice gentled as he said, “But what I couldn’t do is hurt you.”
She stared at him for long seconds. “You hurt me every time you reject me, Cord. Every time you tell me I’m too young, I don’t know my own mind, I’m not your type, that you don’t return my feelings. Especially since I sense it’s a lie. I wish—” tears began to roll down her cheeks “—I wish you’d just tell me how you really feel.”
It was all too much. The old guilt he’d lived with for eighteen years coalesced with the new guilt he felt for unwittingly hurting her. In a reckless, split-second decision, he dismissed both. Without analyzing it, for once without censoring his thoughts or feelings for her, he gave in to the need he’d stifled for weeks. “All right, Stacey. You win.”
* * *
POISED ABOVE HER, Cord stared into Stacey’s brimming eyes and willed himself to slow down. He opened his mouth to tease her, to coax, but the words wouldn’t come. He took a deep breath, trying to contain the passion that had seethed inside him since the moment she’d confessed she’d never been with another man.
Never.
The knowledge forced him to think clearly; he pulled back. Just for a minute. With as much tenderness as he could summon, he pressed her into the mattress, framed her face with his hands and whispered, “Stace.” His voice was raspy with the depth of his emotions. .
“What?”
“I’ll only ask this once. You’ve never made love before. Are you sure you want to? With me?”
Her smile seemed to come from her soul. “I’m sure.”
“All right, then.” Draw
ing away from her, he hauled himself from the bed and went into his room. He returned with an unopened box of condoms.
The look she gave him when she recognized what he held was accusatory. “You’re prepared?”
He put the box on the nightstand and covered her again with his weight. “They were in my shaving kit, sweetheart.” He kissed the tip of her nose. They’ve been there a long time. I hope they’re still good.”
Another smile spread across her face. Cord lowered his lips to hers; as soon as he tasted her, the urgency returned. His need for her clawed inside him, demanding to be appeased.
Innocently, willingly, she opened her mouth to him and he invaded it. She was so sweet it jolted him. Releasing her mouth, he tracked kisses to her neck, ravenous for the taste of her skin. His nose brushed her hair and the scents of baby powder and lemon shampoo enveloped him.
With an unsteady hand, he sought the buttons of her shirt. Fumbling like a schoolboy, he quelled the urge to rip open the silky material. When he finally had the garment undone, he found her tucked into a red satin bra scalloped with lace. He flicked the clasp.
“You are so lovely. I want to devour you.”
“I want that, too.”
His hand closed over a swollen breast. He groaned at how good she felt, how right. He’d dreamed so often of doing this again. Now it was real. Desire overrode everything else as he took her nipple in his mouth and suckled greedily.
Driven by the need to feel her naked beneath him, he shifted to the side and pulled off her bra and shirt in one swoop. His hands explored her body, outlining each rib, curving inward with the slope of her waist. At her hips, he dragged down her shorts and panties together and pulled them off. She shivered. He smiled and cupped her.
Closing her eyes, she arched into his palm. He moved it in rhythmic circles until her breath sped up and her face flushed. When she opened her eyes, she touched his chest. “Take this off,” she said, yanking at his shirt. “I want to see you.”
Buttons flew to the floor as he ripped them open. When his hand came in contact with cold steel, Cord swore. “I forgot,” he said, tearing at the buckle of the shoulder holster and whipping off the gun. It was a stark reminder of the danger they faced.
Deliberately, he discarded both the weapon and the reality of their circumstances. He knew that what he was doing was unprofessional, was wrong. For so many reasons. But it was too late for self-recrimination. He’d concentrate on making her first sexual experience good and loving.
Stacey watched the doubt harden Cord’s jaw and darken his eyes to navy. She clutched at his shoulders, afraid he’d changed his mind. Dragging him closer, she kissed him with fear and urgency and the most acute need she’d ever felt. He consumed her mouth, her neck, his hands roughly caressing all the skin he could reach. She felt chilled and scorched at the same time. When he came to the juncture of her thighs, she opened them for him. He palmed her, then inserted a finger.
“Oh, Stace,” he said. “You’re so ready. So wet.”
“Cord, I want you. Please.”
But he continued the movement until she had to close her eyes. Gasping for breath, she fell back into the mattress. He pulled off the rest of his clothes, then fumbled for the box on the dresser. Through half-closed lids, she watched him tear the packet with his teeth, then quickly sheathe himself.
Intrigued, Stacey reached out to touch his solid length. It was warm and pulsing. She studied his face as her fingers closed around him. His throat moved as he swallowed hard. And he withdrew her hand.
Grasping her thigh, he turned her to her side, facing him. Then he angled his body and scissored his legs with hers. “This will be better, love,” he said, his voice a shaky whisper. “I can control the angle and touch you more.” He took a pillow and slid it beneath her head. “Besides, I get to watch you.”
Again, Stacey arched but he didn’t enter her; instead, he stayed poised at her opening. “There’s one thing you need to know before we do this.”
“What?” she managed to say.
“I love you, Anastasia.”
Stacey’s heart skidded to a halt. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I love you, too, Francis.”
His eyes locked on hers in a sacred bond as he inched into her. “Does it hurt?” He grimaced. “I’m trying to go slow, but...”
“It feels wonderful.” She thrust her hips forward.
He groaned as he plunged into her, then stilled, holding himself rigidly for a few seconds. When he began to move, he took long, smooth strokes, grazing her inside. Her whole body tightened. She trembled and moaned. Her vision blurred. Circles of pleasure swirled within her, radiating from the center of her body to all her extremities. It built and built until it burst upon her; hundreds of pinpricks of pleasure shot through her. She called his name over and over.
She was still gasping for breath when she felt him grab her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh as his thrusts came harder and quicker; in seconds he stiffened. “Oh, Stace... Stace,” he called out, then pushed and pushed and finally emptied himself in her.
Spent, he collapsed against the pillow and cuddled her to him. Tucking her head against his chest, he held her tightly and kissed her hair. She could hear the escalated beat of his heart pounding in his chest. Lovingly, she laid a hand over it, smiling against his sweat-soaked skin, inhaling his unique scent.
She had him now. Finally. He was hers. And she knew deep in her heart that nothing could ever wrench them apart.
Not after this.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
AT 7:00 A.M., deliciously sore and gladly exhausted, Stacey tried to disentangle herself from her spoon-like position with Cord, to shower and get ready for work. Though how she was going to concentrate all day, and not attack him, was in question.
But Cord seemed to have other ideas. The arm thrown across her chest vised around her and she was immobilized. “You’re not going anywhere, Anastasia.”
Sighing, fitting herself to him, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scents that surrounded her. His sweat and hers. The distinct and aphrodisiac smell of sex; the earthy odors sneaking in from the open windows and skylights.
Her mind drifted to the night before. They’d slept briefly, then he went downstairs to lock up and set the alarms. When he returned with a cold tray of food, and she fed it to him, he tried to resist her but lost the first skirmish with his willpower. Shoving aside the food, he’d pulled her on top of him and shown her how being in control could be pleasurable for her.
Then they went to sleep for the night—or so she thought. It was still dark out when she felt his light kisses on her back. Her skin tingled and she allowed the ministration as long as she could. Easing her over, he pressed her into the pillows and gave her a taste of the missionary position. When they’d awakened at dawn, only half of the condoms were left in the box...
Cord flipped over on his stomach, tightened the arm bracing her and reached for the phone. On her back now, she watched the play of his muscles as he dialed from the awkward angle.
“Give me the fifth-floor finance division.” His gravelly voice conjured the erotic words he’d spoken each time he’d come inside her last night. He handed her the phone.
“What?” she asked him.
“It’s your secretary. Tell her you’re not coming to work today.”
His peremptory words were softened by the sexual glimmer in his eyes, making them a crystalline blue.
“Why?”
“I want these next few days with you, Stace. Just you and me. No stalker, no father, no ex-fiancé. And no past.”
It seemed he added the last almost unconsciously. “Cord?”
The question was lost as her secretary asked for instructions to cover Stacey’s unexpected need to be out of the office.
When she finished, Cord took the phone from her, reached over, unplugged it and wrapped her in his arms once more. God, she needed him. Wanted him. Wanted to spend her whole life w
ith him. Would he make any comments about the future? Did he connect love with commitment? There was still so much she didn’t know about him. But he was right. She wouldn’t bog down these four days with worry.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.
“Making love.”
He chuckled. “You’re a natural.” His features softened. “I can’t believe I was the first guy.”
“Are you glad?” She tried to quell the note of insecurity that crept into her voice.
Gently he turned her to fully face him. “Are you kidding? The thought of Matthews’s hands on you has driven me nuts for weeks. Truly, Stace, it’s the most precious gift I’ve ever been given.” He paused, searching her face. “Tell me why you waited.”
“I’ve hinted at it before.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s because of my mother’s infidelity.” She sighed. “But now, I think you may have been right. I may have misjudged her. In the storage room the other day, those were sketchbooks we were looking at. After seeing how she drew my father...she must have loved him very much.”
Cord’s expression turned granite. “Your mother loved you as much,” he finally said.
“Why would you say that?”
“I... ah, I saw the sketches she did of you.”
Frowning, Stacey shook her head. “You came into the storage room after we put the sketchbooks away. How did you see them?”
Cord swallowed hard. “Why are we talking about this? Didn’t I say I wanted nothing to intrude on these four days? This is our fantasy weekend together.”
Stacey blushed.
“What?”
“I’ve had fantasies of you,” she said.
He gave her a wolfish grin. “I’ve had them of you, too.”
She eased up on her elbow. “I want to know your fantasies, Cord.”
“Never ask a man that.”
“I want to fulfill them. I want to be everything you want in a woman.” So you’ll never want another.
Bodyguards Boxed Set Page 36
