There was nothing sexier than a woman who knew what she wanted. And by the way she ground herself against him, Rose must have a clear picture of where she was going. But he could help things along.
Gripping her hips, he thrust up against her, brushing his pubic bone against the core of her sex. A shudder shot through her and she gasped into his mouth. Yes, he knew exactly what spot to hit.
She clenched around him, her body jerking away.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, holding her down against him.
“Max,” she moaned, her face pressed against the side of his neck. “It’s too much, it’s too soon. I—”
He slipped his hand between them and found her clit, swollen and needy. “There’s no such thing as too much.”
She started to protest but her words turned into a garbled mess as she rocked against him, seeking her release. With her facing him this time, he watched her beautiful features contort as she came hard against his hand. Her sex clenched around him and her eyes squeezed shut.
He drank her in with greedy eyes, feasting himself on her pleasure until he followed her over the edge.
Satisfaction rippled through him, weighing down his muscles.
Rose was not a woman to be underestimated. She liked to be in control, and he’d have to keep a close eye on her. For some reason, the thought of doing that felt a lot more enticing to him now than it had this morning.
Curled up against his chest, she seemed small all of a sudden. The bruise on her cheek had morphed to a deeper shade of purple.
He would protect Rose. She may not want a bodyguard, but he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.
He brushed the hair from her face as if out of habit.
She is your job, nothing more. You will protect her but you will not let her in. Got it?
It would be easier said than done.
4
ROSE SQUINTED AS she woke to the bright morning light streaming through the blinds of her hotel room. Her body ached with delicious post-romp satisfaction, and her mind was filled with the memory of Max’s lips on her. And his hands... Oh, boy, did he know how to use his hands.
She vaguely remembered him carrying her into the bedroom at some deep, dark point of the night. But her hand darted out to touch the cold space on the other side of the bed, confirming that he hadn’t joined her. Pity.
Rolling onto her side, she snuggled farther down into the sheets. Morning wasn’t her friend. In fact, Rose was strictly against any kind of activity that required brain power before ten o’clock.
Footsteps sounded outside the room and she glared at the door, hoping Max would leave her alone for at least another hour.
A single knock broke through the silence. Who used a single knock? Super serious bodyguards who valued efficiency. That’s who. She stifled a smile.
“I’m sleeping,” she called out.
His sigh came through the door loud and clear. “You don’t sound like you’re sleeping.”
“Well, I am.” She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. “And I need my rest.”
He chuckled. “I have coffee.”
Her eyes snapped open but she didn’t move. Staying in bed meant she could live a little longer in denial about the break-ins, but the lure of caffeine was strong.
“You’re going to have to face the world sooner or later,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You may as well do it with a hot drink in your hand.”
“Damn you and your logic.” She threw off the covers and walked to the door naked. She opened it just enough to stick out her arm and when she felt the mug pressed into her hand, she retreated into the bedroom.
“You’re welcome,” he said through the closed door.
After downing her coffee, Rose showered and changed into a set of clean clothes. She should have felt better. The operative word being should.
Butterflies danced in her stomach as she repacked her suitcase. Ever since she’d arrived in New York, something had been off. As much as she’d acted nonchalant in her meeting with Max yesterday, the truth was she hadn’t been herself since she’d come home.
The idea of home seemed intangible...and confusing.
Her father had hounded her from the moment she’d landed, emails from him piling up in her inbox until she’d caved and given him her phone number. The second she’d hit Send she’d known it was a mistake. Now he wanted to catch up, do coffee, pretend they hadn’t been estranged for the past decade and a bit.
But she couldn’t forget. She’d given up hope a long time ago that they would ever have a normal relationship and she certainly had not returned to New York for him. Though he didn’t seem to believe it.
“Checkout is in five minutes.” Max stood in the doorway to her room, his coat slung over one arm, phone in his free hand.
“You didn’t spring for a late checkout?” she asked as she stuffed the last of her toiletries into the suitcase and dragged the zip closed.
“We’ve got plenty to keep us busy today. Do you need to call the shop and tell them you won’t be in?”
She shook her head. “It’s my day off. I was supposed to be working on a commission piece.”
“That’ll have to wait. We need to go through everything in your place and work out what, if anything, has been stolen. I’ll also run through some questions with you to help narrow down any possible suspects.”
“You sound more like a cop than a bodyguard.” She put the suitcase on the ground and pulled up the handle but Max took it from her as she walked past him. “And you don’t have to carry my things for me.”
She held out her hand and refused to move until he gave the bag back. His hand brushed hers as he relinquished it. Memories raced through her mind like a dirty movie on fast-forward.
“I also want to bulk up your security at home so no one else breaks in.”
One sentence and he’d managed to quickly douse any flames of desire licking at her heels.
“You can’t guarantee that, can you?” She made a mental note once again to tell him about the security app once they got back to her apartment.
“Short of putting bars on all the windows, no. But we’ll make your security system as strong as possible, and I’ll stay with you in the meantime.”
“What do you mean you’ll stay with me?”
“I’ll stay at your place until we’ve got the security situation figured out.”
Rose rolled the idea around in her head—having Max at such close proximity might be a good thing. Last night hadn’t taken the edge off. In fact, sleeping with him had only stoked the fires that had lain dormant since her mother died last year. He was like the first bite of chocolate after a yearlong sugar deprivation.
Sinfully delicious and she wanted more.
They left the hotel room and made their way to the elevator. “I’ll need a list of names of anyone you’ve come into contact with since you moved here,” he said as they walked.
“If you don’t count customers at the store, that list is going to be pretty short.” The elevator pinged and they stepped inside, squeezing in next to a large family and a woman with a giant stroller.
“You don’t strike me as the hermit type,” he said, casting a sideways glance at her.
“Because of my sparkling personality and wit?”
“No, because you’re bossy.” They stepped out of the elevator and he chuckled when she glared at him. “Usually that’s an eldest child thing, but you’ve made no mention of any siblings. Or any other family besides your father.”
“Observant,” she replied. “I’m an only child.”
Max settled the bill and Rose used the moment away from his scrutiny to analyze him. He had a definite ex-cop or ex-military vibe about him, not to mention the guy was built like a br
ick wall. She’d experienced all that hardness firsthand last night—thighs as solid as concrete, perfectly cut abs, strong arms that made you want to be wrapped up in them forever. But his body wasn’t the only hard thing about him. He refused to answer any personal questions or reveal any kind of deep emotion.
It only fueled her suspicions that his expat status had nothing to do with his job in America and everything to do with him fleeing Australia.
He was complex beneath the GI Joe-wannabe exterior, and goddamn if that didn’t tempt the hell out of her. Besides, focusing on decoding Max helped take her mind off the fact that someone had broken into her house and rifled through her personal belongings.
Max returned from the reception desk and placed his hand against the small of her back, pushing her out the door. Even through the thick layers of her coat and winter sweater, the touch was calming. Comforting.
“How’s that bruise coming along?” he asked, touching his hand lightly to where she’d tried—and failed—to cover it with concealer.
“It’s sore,” she admitted. “But I’ll live.”
His face was unreadable. “We’ll catch whoever did this. I promise.”
She nodded, but Rose’s confidence faded the closer they got to her apartment. They’d made a quick detour to Max’s place so he could change and pack a bag of fresh clothes. But too soon his car pulled up behind her own, now covered in a thin crusting of snow. The crisp air hit her as soon as she stepped outside, stinging her face. She hovered on the sidewalk, gathering her courage to go inside. What if someone else had broken in? Or worse, what if she was attacked again and Max wasn’t there to look after her?
She wasn’t the sort of girl who needed a man to protect her. Far from it. Independence was the quality she prided herself on most. But the intruder had knocked her down as though she weighed no more than a stuffed animal. Then she’d sat there as he’d hovered over her, poised to strike again.
And she’d done nothing to defend herself.
Reality washed over her like a tidal wave, pushing her below the depths and threatening to drown her. Her heart galloped and sweat beaded along her brow. Last night she’d been fine. She’d felt safe. But now...
“You’ll be okay. I’m here. I’ll make sure they don’t get to you again.” Max appeared beside her and took the suitcase from her.
Her lip trembled and she hated herself for it. She was not a damsel in distress. “I...”
“It’s perfectly normal to have a delayed reaction to the shock.” His deep baritone soothed her and her breath slowed. “But you’re safe with me.”
Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are.”
They walked to the front door together and she fumbled with the key, but if he noticed he didn’t comment on it. Inside the same chaos greeted them as when they’d walked in last night: overturned furniture, scattered papers, open cupboards and drawers.
“How are we going to get through all this?” She needed to unleash her frustration onto the world.
“Bit by bit, a room at a time. We go through everything and try to work out what they were looking for.”
“Isn’t that above and beyond your duties?” she said, taking her suitcase from him and placing it—along with her coat and handbag—next to the closet. “Security consultants don’t do spring cleaning.”
“My job doesn’t usually involve a feather duster.” A smile twitched on his lips. “But we do all kinds of investigative work for clients, whatever that might involve.”
“But I’m not your client,” she pointed out.
Max ran his hand through his shaggy dark brown hair. “No, you’re not.”
“Did my father ask you to do any investigative work?”
“No. He was only concerned for your safety.” Max glanced around the apartment. “But my professional opinion is that we need to find out what these people are after, especially if you don’t want to involve the police.”
“I don’t want to involve them yet.” She sighed. “I’m still hoping this was just a big misunderstanding and that it’s a case of mistaken identity.”
Max raised a brow. “Really?”
“A girl can hope, right?” She sighed. “Just let me live in denial a little bit longer.”
He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but he held his tongue. “How do you set the alarm for this place?”
She pulled up the security app on her phone. “My friend from the coffee shop suggested this app to me. She uses it, too. It’s connected to the alarm system and it logs any activity.”
“Why didn’t you mention this yesterday?” He held his hand out and she gave him the phone.
“I was a little...distracted.” They stood close together while he scrolled through the app’s history. “It says that someone turned the alarm off before we arrived...so that means they must have the code, right?”
“It’s possible. There is equipment that can break the encryption on the pin pad.” Max frowned. “You don’t use one, two, three, four as your alarm code, do you?”
“Of course not. I use my mother’s birthday. I figured it was safer than using my own, and it’s not as if anyone would know that date.”
Max nodded and handed her phone back to her. “I’ve set the app to alert us every time the code is entered. It’ll be annoying because our phones will go off whenever one of us enters the house, but at least we’ll be aware if someone else tries to get in.”
Rose nodded. “Good idea.”
Max turned to the mess that was her apartment. “Why don’t we start in the living area?”
* * *
MAX GRIPPED THE side of the bookcase and lifted it back up. Everything that had previously adorned the shelves now lay scattered across the dark polished floorboards. He scanned the objects for anything of interest, but they were mostly heavy books on jewelry design, the history of antiques and a few paperback classics. There was also that book...the naughty one with the paddling and the sex swing.
He shoved the book onto the shelf before Rose could notice him looking at it.
“The shelves were pretty bare. I only brought one box of books with me from London,” Rose said, kneeling down to collect her belongings.
A small deer figurine had broken, its head shattered into several pieces. “Was this of any significance?” he asked.
She sighed, turning the deer’s body over in her hand. “I bought it at a vintage market my first week after moving to London with my mother. We hadn’t taken anything with us except a suitcase of clothing each, and I wanted something to decorate my bedside table.”
It struck Max as strange that Rose and her mother hadn’t taken any of their possessions with them when they’d moved. Especially since the family seemed to be reasonably well off...at least enough that her father could engage Cobalt & Dane’s services. Though it was possible he’d come into money after Rose had left New York.
“Are any of these books particularly old or valuable?” he asked, looking at the neat line Rose was making on the shelf.
She shook her head. “No. I mean, design books aren’t exactly cheap, but they aren’t rare enough to steal. None of them are missing, either.”
“What about this?” He held up a piece of wood shaped like a diamond and painted white.
“Oh, yes, I’m surprised they didn’t take this.” Sarcasm colored her voice. “They could have saved themselves a whole ten dollars at IKEA.”
With the books and trinkets back on the bookshelf, Rose grabbed the broom from her kitchen and swept up the shattered porcelain along with some dirt that had spilled from an overturned potted plant.
The kitchen didn’t offer them many clues, either, just a ton of drawers and cupboards to close.
“We’ll do the bedroom n
ext,” Max announced as Rose dumped a broken mug into the trash.
“Should I go in and put all my unmentionables away?” She leaned against the dining table and twirled the broom in one hand.
“I don’t really think you can call them unmentionables since I’ve seen you without them.” As he remembered last night, goose bumps skittered across his skin, a ghost of her touch lingering.
“You didn’t get me out of my panties, from what I remember.” She tapped him on the chest with the broom handle before stashing it away. “Too impatient.”
He pressed his lips together. “I prefer the word ‘decisive.’”
“So do I.” She smirked and started toward her bedroom.
“I need to see the room as the intruder left it,” he said, following her.
“Sure you do.” She shot him a look over her shoulder. “You just want to look at my panties again.”
Colorful lace decorated the room. Bras and underwear in every color spilled from an open drawer. Stockings with various trimmings had been dumped into a pile on the floor. Her closet door was open, revealing mostly black, navy and white clothing.
“Do you save all the color for your undies?” He quipped, checking out the interior of her closet, running a hand up and down the walls to check for any safes or hidden compartments.
“I wear neutrals to make sure the focus is on my jewelry.” She scooped up the stockings and dropped them into a drawer.
“Do you always wear the jewelry you’ve made?”
“Usually. It’s like my business card. I always have at least one of my pieces on, even if I mix and match them with other designers’ work.” She plucked a lace teddy from the post on her headboard. “People always stop me to ask about my accessories, so I tell them about my business.”
“Smart.” He nodded, glancing around the room.
Jewelry was scattered over an antique mirror-finish dressing table and a small nightstand next to her bed. As the light streamed in through the window, the gems twinkled, reflecting shards of rainbow light.
“Let’s go through this jewelry.” He picked up an empty leather box from the floor.
A Dangerously Sexy Christmas Page 5
