The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones

by Susan Mallery

  She could barely remember their meeting. Probably because he was rubbing his palms up and down her bare arms. The combination of heat and friction made it difficult to think about anything but what she was feeling. She wanted to lean back against him, against his hard, lean strength. Instead, she forced herself to murmur, “No.”

  “I couldn’t lift my head, so all I saw were these beautiful, honey-colored thighs. I remember thinking it was very nice of God to insist angels walk around naked.”

  In spite of feeling incredibly stupid and exposed, Cindy smiled. “I’m hardly an angel.”

  “You’re right about that.” He turned her until she was facing him. “You’re a woman, and I want to make love with you.”

  His brown eyes blazed with passion. He might be able to fake the affection in his voice or the gentleness of his touch, but she doubted he would be able to invent a fire that bright without some passion to fuel it.

  She wanted to believe, she needed to more than anything. Of its own accord, her hand came up and touched his jawline. The skin was smooth; he’d shaved before coming over.

  She wanted to ask if he was sure. She wanted to believe it didn’t matter if he wasn’t. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet so she could stop thinking so much. Instead, she said, “I haven’t been with anyone but Nelson. For all I know, I’m doing something terribly wrong. Promise you won’t laugh?”

  He smiled. “Don’t you know I don’t care what you do or don’t do? I just want to be with you and touch you. I want to taste every part of you. I want to listen to your breathing as the promise of ecstasy makes you gasp for air. I want you to scream my name and beg for more. I want to be in you, hard and deep until you can’t do anything but feel.”

  She stared at him, then blinked. “I’m not much of a screamer.”

  “That’s all you got from that?”

  “Well, my knees are shaking a little.”

  “Let’s make them shake a lot.”

  He leaned over the table and grabbed a single white rose. After handing it to her, he bent down and picked her up in his arms. She shrieked and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I would have thought it was obvious.”

  He was strong, his hold on her secure, but she didn’t like the feeling of being so out of control. “The bedroom is less than twenty feet away. I could have walked.”

  “That’s romantic,” he said, stepping into the bedroom and kicking the door closed behind him. He walked to the bed and set her down next to it. He took the rose and put it on the nightstand.

  Cindy glanced around the room and winced. She’d removed the comforter and drawn back the sheets. Small unlit candles covered her dresser. There was something sheer and lacy on the counter in the bathroom, just in case.

  “Call me subtle,” she said miserably.

  Mike didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of the high mattress and grabbed her wrist. He tugged until she was forced to step between his parted thighs.

  This had all been a mistake, she thought grimly. She should never have tried the seduction thing. She just didn’t have the experience to be good at it. Now, glancing around at her preparations, she felt like a foolish child wishing after the moon. Or a teenager worshiping a rock star. All she needed was Mike’s picture on the wall.

  When the front of her thighs bumped the insides of his, Cindy returned her attention to what was going on. Mike’s hands rested on her waist and he was urging her closer. The fire inside of him burned so hot she could feel the flames. They lit an answering spark within her. The spark flared to life, growing until it threatened to consume her. It burned away her doubts and questions until only need was left behind.

  “Kiss me,” he commanded.

  She complied willingly.

  His position on the bed put him slightly below eye level. She bent her head until their lips touched. She wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe a wild assault, maybe cool disinterest. Instead, his lips clung to hers, touching, sharing, but not taking. She could feel the soft pressure as he moved his head slightly, fitting them together. She raised her arms and placed them around his neck. His hands settled on her back. As she moved closer, he pulled her next to him. From chest to thigh they touched.

  His heat was like a sensual blanket. It swept over her shoulders wrapping her in a thick cloak of need. A tremor raced through her, then another. Yet they were only kissing, as chastely as virgin lovers who might yet be separated.

  She stroked the back of his neck. His haircut was still painfully new. She could feel the first hints of stubble, then the military-short strands. She traced the shape of his ears, his jaw. Smoother skin there, but different from her own.

  He shifted, splaying his legs more until her thighs settled against his groin. She could feel the hardness of him, straining against his shorts. He couldn’t fake that, either. She relaxed, giving herself up to the sensual experience.

  He chose the moment of her surrender to test the seam of her mouth. She parted for him instantly, anticipating the sweet taste of him and the pleasure he would bring. He didn’t disappoint her. His tongue swept across hers. Shivers raced down her arms and chest, settling in her breasts. She drew in a deep breath, to bring her more in contact with him. The action didn’t ease the aching she felt there, or between her legs. Even her lacy, silk bra felt scratchy and thick.

  He broke the kiss, only to trail kisses across her jaw and down her neck. He licked the hollow of her throat, traced a moist path to the neckline of her dress, then moved lower still and gently bit the puckered tip of her breast.

  She sucked in her breath. Through the layers of clothing, she felt the pressure of his teeth. Involuntarily, her hips arched toward him, her head arched back. Breath caught in her throat. She squeezed his shoulders, silently begging for more.

  Over and over he raked his teeth against the sensitive nub. The hands at her waist held her in place. If she’d had the strength, she would have laughed. She had no plans to leave. But as she swayed slightly, unable to keep her balance under his sensual assault, she thought he might not be holding her still as much as holding her up.

  She clung to him. Her fingers weaved through his silky, short hair. She cupped his head, finally urging him to taunt her other breast the same way.

  His ministrations there were twice as sweet. Her legs trembled violently. Her breathing was rapid gasps. She could feel the moist heat between her thighs. She was shaken and ready for him, and they both still had their clothes on.

  “Sweet Cindy,” he murmured against her chest. “Tell me you like this.”

  “Are you kidding?” she gasped.

  He raised his head and looked at her. A slow, satisfied, very male sort of smile stretched across his face. She wondered if she should be offended or at least protest the power he had over her. Before she could decide, he began pulling her zipper down and she found she didn’t really care what he did, as long as he didn’t ever stop.

  He slipped the dress over her shoulders. It slid down easily, falling into a pool at her feet. His gaze moved from her face to her breasts, then lower. She felt it as tangibly as a touch. Her skin was both hot and cold, and she held on to his shoulders as the only solid thing in her spinning world.

  “I knew you’d be this beautiful,” he whispered, then kissed her collarbone.

  She wanted to protest she wasn’t beautiful. She was slightly over thirty, she’d had two children and she hadn’t won the battle with those last couple of pounds. But he didn’t seem to care and she decided not to point those facts out to him.

  His fingers moved up and down her spine, creating spirals of need and anticipation. His hands slipped over her hips, then cupped her buttocks tightly. Finally, he moved down her legs to the backs of her knees, then up, repeating the journey in reverse.

  Every muscle, every inch of skin longed for the brush of his fingers. As he touched her, heat flared to life, leaving tiny points of flame lit all over. He again trailed
kisses down her chest, to her breasts, but this time he dipped lower. He licked the sensitive valley between her breasts, then bent his head and bit the skin over her ribs.

  His breath tickled her, his hands taunted her, his mouth left her trembling and weak. It had never been like this before. Mike loved all of her, touching her everywhere, bringing her to the highest pitch of arousal she’d ever known. He didn’t just stroke her breasts for a few minutes, then move his hand lower to bring her to the point of completion. He seemed to have forgotten there was a destination and was instead enjoying the journey for its own sake.

  His hands moved back up her spine. Before he could taunt her again with a nibble on her side, she placed her hand under his jaw and forced him to look at her.

  “Kiss me,” she commanded.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He puckered his lips obligingly.

  She smiled. “I didn’t expect to laugh.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “To feel awkward and out of place. I was afraid I was going to lie on the bed like a piece of wood, wondering how I was going to explain my lack of response.”

  “That doesn’t say much about my technique.”

  “This was just a little more about my fears than your ability.”

  “And now?” he asked.

  “I’m on fire.”

  She lowered her mouth to his. This time she was the one to brush his lips with hers. She learned the shape of him, then used her tongue to discover his taste. She swept over his lower lip and dipped inside, savoring the tightening of his muscles and the half-swallowed groan.

  Still kissing him, she moved out of the V of his thighs, and nudged his knees together. She straddled him, bringing her waiting moistness in contact with his male need. Wiggling closer, making him writhe, she deepened the kiss, exploring all of him, learning what made him quake, what made him go still and what made that hardness flex against her.

  He broke away and swore. “You’re trying to make me lose control.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Oh, yeah. If you don’t stop moving like that, you’ll make me prove it.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. She didn’t believe he was all that close to being swept over the edge, but it was wonderful to hear the words. She liked knowing she brought this strong man to the point of breaking. She wanted him to shatter, then together they would put the pieces back in place.

  She kissed his jaw, tasting the faintly bitter flavor of his after-shave, then moved to his ear. She nibbled on the lobe and suckled the sensitive skin underneath. His breathing grew more rapid.

  His fingers found the fastener of her bra. With practiced ease, he slipped the hooks free. She straightened slightly so the garment slid down her arms. She grabbed it and tossed it aside.

  Mike stared at her breasts as if he’d never seen a naked woman before. Slowly, reverently, he cupped her. She was pale against his tanned skin. His fingers moved back and forth creating exquisite electrical sensations that arced down to her most feminine place. He lowered his head between her breasts, as if to bury himself within her. He was warm, with only the faintest hint of stubble to create delicious friction.

  Her own breathing increased to match the rapid cadence of his. When his mouth closed on her nipple, she caught her breath, wondering if she’d ever felt anything so incredible in her life. His warm, damp tongue circled her, teasing her tightness until her hips began to rock against him. She gasped his name, clutching at him, begging him to never stop.

  Back and forth he moved, caressing first one then the other breast. His fingers supported her, stroking her pale flesh, pushing her toward the edge of sanity.

  When she thought she might slip over into madness, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gently lowered her to the bed. He rolled until he knelt between her thighs. She was stretched across the width of the mattress, her feet dangling off the side. The sheets were smooth and cool against her heated skin.

  He shifted so he was lying next to her, then reached behind him for something on the nightstand. When she was able to bring her gaze into focus, she saw he was holding the rose.

  “Lovely,” he said, first staring at, then sniffing the pale flower. He held it close to her nose. She inhaled the sweet fragrance. Roses would forever remind her of him.

  It was probably close to seven o’clock, but the sun was still bright in the sky. The pulled drapes couldn’t keep out all the light. She could see him clearly, and the furniture in the room. Her nearly naked body was his to view, yet he seemed preoccupied by the rose.

  “They’ve taken off the thorns,” he said, turning the stem and studying it. “Just as well, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  With that, he brushed the flower against her throat. The petals were soft. She could smell the sweet scent and feel the faint caress against her heated skin. She arched her neck. He traced the line of her jaw, her ears, then moved down her chest to her breastbone.

  The delicate petals tickled and aroused. Goose bumps dotted her skin. Mike stretched out beside her, supporting his head on one hand. With the other, he held the rose and circled her breasts. First one, around and around, moving higher to her nipple, but not touching it, then the other. Back and forth, he taunted her.

  Her breathing came in gasps, then she forgot to breathe at all. At last he brushed the tip with the head of the flower. At the same moment, he brought his mouth down on her other breast. Her hips tilted, her fingers clawed at the sheet. She didn’t know she could feel so much pleasure and still live.

  He continued to stroke her body, dragging the rose across her belly. Every muscle quivered in anticipation. He paused to remove her panties, then trailed the flower down her legs. He tickled the soles of her feet, then moved higher, sweeping the petals across the insides of her knees and up her thighs.

  She parted for him. She was damp and swollen, her woman’s place aching for his touch. If she’d been able to speak, she would have begged. As it was, she could only try to survive this sensual assault, waiting for the culmination that would surely shatter her being.

  He touched the rose to the damp curls. He rose and knelt between her legs. Again and again he touched her with the flower. The petals merely teased her, without bringing her the promise of release. She moved her hips up and down, silently urging him to touch her, take her. Anything.

  He laughed softly. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  He leaned forward and placed the rose on her belly. With one graceful movement, he drew his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His torso was smooth and tanned, gleaming in the diffused light. She reached for him.

  “Not yet,” he said, lowering himself to the mattress and dropping a quick kiss on her right thigh.

  His hands slipped under her legs as he grasped her buttocks, then bent closer. She screamed when he stroked his tongue against her. From the place that would bring them both release, to the tiny but engorged center of her pleasure, he tasted her. His breath was hot, his tongue sure.

  She’d heard of such things, her ex-husband had even tried it once or twice, but she’d felt so awkward and exposed, she’d asked him to stop. Now the thought of Mike stopping was enough to make her sob. She could feel her body collecting itself, already prepared to explode. Her scalp tingled, the soles of her feet burned. Every point in between was alive and taut with need. Her muscles contracted and tightened, making her legs jerk and her hands clutch and release the sheet.

  His tongue continued its magical ministrations, circling around, moving up and down, dipping inside, as if her flavor was a treat to be savored. He moved closer, shifting her legs over his shoulders, as if he needed more. She was off-balance and falling, exposed and out of control and she didn’t want it to end.

  But the pleasure could not be denied. Like the glory of a sunrise, it began with only a hint of light. Her muscles started to clench in a secret rhythm. Her hips rose against his mouth, her fingers clawed for support as s
he moaned her need.

  She spoke his name, at least she tried to form the words. She tossed her head from side to side. The insistent stroking of his tongue forced her to his pace, not hers, so she hung suspended, until the last rapid flick sent her exploding into the light. She soared in a storm of ultimate pleasure as her muscles trembled in a cascade of satisfaction.

  When the world had stopped spinning, she found herself cradled in Mike’s arms. He stared at her intensely.

  She touched his face, his cheeks, then traced his mouth.

  “That was wonderful,” she murmured.

  “I’m glad.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “I had great material to work with. You’re very responsive.”

  She could feel the blush climbing, but she didn’t bother to look away. After what they’d just shared, how could there be any secrets?

  “I’ve never been that responsive before,” she admitted.

  “Then you have been doing it wrong.”

  She giggled. “I guess so. Thanks for showing me the right way.”

  “My pleasure. Anytime. And I mean that.”

  His eyes were dark and smoky, his expression caring. But she could feel the tension in his body. His erection pressed against her bare hip.

  As she raised her head toward him, she ran her hands down his back. Even as their mouths met and tongues tangled, she stroked his coiled muscles. His skin was sleek and smooth, his strength overwhelming. Except for the scar on his leg, he was back to normal.

  Even so, a slight pressure on his shoulder was all she needed to roll him onto his back. She knelt next to him and studied the breadth of him. His belly was flat, his hips narrow. The male part of him thrust up against the fabric of his shorts.

  She bent over his chest and touched her tongue to his nipple. At the same moment, she placed her palm over his hardness. His response was an instant guttural cry. He cupped her face.