Bulletproof (Unknown Identities #1)

by Black, Regan

  Get ahold of yourself, Bennett. Keep cool.

  He stood up, that long body slowly coming to his full height.

  “Your heart is racing,” he said.

  “It happens when I turn in a story I’m proud of.”

  “No. That was different.” His fingers touched the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him. “Much different.”

  She shrugged, determined to make a good exit, but her legs refused to listen to reason, rooted in place like the trees outside.

  “I frighten you.”

  “Not the way you think you do,” she blurted, too honestly for her peace of mind.

  “That’s what intrigues me.” He reached out and rubbed his callused thumb across her lower lip. “Why did you kiss me?”

  “You helped me. I was happy.”

  “Do you always give out kisses when you’re happy?”

  “Of course not.” There wasn’t usually anyone around besides Bernie or Sylvia. Kissing either of them would signal a new low for her personal life. And it would likely shock both of them into an early grave.

  “Were you happy when the rock crashed through the window?” He leaned in, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

  “Not particularly.” Trapped, she leaned closer to his intoxicating scent instead of away. His heat rolled over her, taking away the chill of nerves she’d been battling.

  “But you kissed me then.”

  She looked into his eyes, wanted to abandon all sense and get lost in those unfathomable green depths. “You didn’t seem to like it much.” Her voice, husky with desire, gave away the need clawing inside her as effectively as a neon sign.

  His hooded gaze dropped to her mouth. “Then let me clarify.” He captured her hand, placed it firmly against his fly, and rocked his hard length against her palm.

  She sucked in a breath and rubbed the length of him through the fabric.

  With a groan, he pushed harder against her touch. She increased the pressure, exploring him thoroughly. She was wet already, her body eager, desperate to feel him deep inside, to hold him tight until they were both spent.

  He didn’t seem troubled by her touch now. Her heart leaped with the sense of power as his eyes closed and he tipped his face to the ceiling.

  She kissed the small notch at the base of his throat exposed by his open collar. His hips flexed again. Bolder still, she dragged her tongue across his hot skin, pausing to nip his earlobe.

  His hands speared up under her sweatshirt, brushing her aching breasts with his big, work-roughened palms. He raised her arms and tossed the sweatshirt to the floor, glaring at her sports bra.

  She nearly giggled, but stifled it, afraid it would jar him out of the mood. Then he dispensed with the bra, yanking it up and away. Watching him palm and mold her breasts, watching his thumbs tweak her pebbled nipples was a turn on she’d never experienced. She peeked up at his face and the sensation multiplied exponentially. No man had ever looked at her with such intensity. Such longing. She arched into his touch, craving more of the pleasure his hands and eyes were giving her.

  He delivered with a vengeance, dipping his head and suckling hard on her nipples, arousing her more with his rough beard against her soft skin.

  She reached for the buttons of his shirt, but he stalled her with a sudden, fierce kiss that fried her brain.

  His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth and she rocked her hips toward that ultimate reward as she fought with his belt, then the button behind it. Carefully, she lowered his zipper and his cock filled her hand.

  Yes. He was hot silk wrapped around a steel core. The smooth head beaded with moisture, she rubbed and gripped, following his cues.

  Now, was her singular thought. Now. Now.

  He broke the kiss and spun her around, pressing her belly against the sink and yanking her jeans to her feet in one fluid motion.

  “Now,” he rasped, leaning close to her ear, his voice a dark echo of her thoughts.

  Gripping her hips he pulled her up off her feet. Startled she scrabbled for a handhold.

  “I’ve got you.”

  And he could do anything with her. She moaned when he slid his hard length between her thighs. The crisp hair of his quads teased her ass as he balanced her on his thigh. She tried to wriggle closer, to satisfy all the parts of her that craved his body, but he held her exactly where he wanted her. She heard the tear of foil and thanked God one of them was thinking clear enough to remember a condom.

  This hadn’t been the way she’d envisioned celebrating her completed story, but the thrill he was giving her was worth every shock and surprise.

  “Please.” She squirmed, rocking against his leg. She wasn’t even ashamed to beg.

  He entered her in one swift thrust, his fingers digging into her hips, moving her as he willed. The pace he set was deliciously relentless, sweaty, and fast and she reveled in it as he pushed her toward a climax.

  She swore she saw stars when the orgasm hit.

  And she crashed back to reality too soon when he suddenly withdrew and stepped away from her. Her body missed him immediately as a cold draft skated across her overheated skin. Her thighs quivered, her knees were jelly. Everything inside her quaked, including her breath.

  She was undone, literally and figuratively. Naked, her clothes blotting the perfect ivy patterned kitchen rugs. She gaped at John. He’d already zipped his fly and was straightening his belt.

  Huh. She wasn’t one for sappy pillow talk, but this redefined the ‘come and run’ stunt.

  Irrationally confused, she quickly pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt and carried her bra and panties straight to the laundry room off the kitchen. She considered and rejected a few pithy comments, a few that bordered on snarky, and one that could only be spoken by a bitter bitch.

  None of them fit the situation.

  In truth, she didn’t have any complaints and definitely no regrets. Aside from the implication there wouldn’t be an encore.

  She slid a glance his way, noticed the tension in his jaw. He might have climaxed less than five minutes ago, but it sure hadn’t taken the edge off. She shouldn’t have taken any glee from that, but she did.

  Well, well. She figured they had at least another day together while they waited for either Bernie or his competition to run her story. Plenty of time to teach John he wasn’t the only one capable of taking a lover by surprise.

  * * *

  “I’ll just, umm, check the perimeter,” John said, more than a little desperate to get out of the kitchen.

  He couldn’t believe what he’d done. He’d taken her at the sink with zero finesse. Not that he had a viable finesse level in his skill set.

  She flicked a hand. “Have fun.”

  “Right.” He looked everywhere but at her. Her entire body had been flushed with a gorgeous rosy sheen when he’d finished.

  Finished. Like it had been a damned horse race. “Look-”

  “I’d like to, if there’s a next time,” she said, smiling and moving toward him.

  Not a good plan. She had seven freckles scattered along the top of her left shoulder. He had as many scars in his left shoulder blade alone. He couldn’t take it. Shame washed over him. What was wrong with her? Wouldn’t most women be snarling at him for his crude, caveman approach?

  “That’s not what I meant.” He took a step back. “No next time. No distractions. And that was... that was my only condom.”

  She shrugged. “I have more.”

  “You do?” He wanted to kick himself. Why couldn’t he shut up and walk away?

  “They sell them to women too.”

  “Right.” He had to get out of here before he blurted something he’d really regret. Like ‘thank you’ or ‘again please’.

  “I keep a box in the bathroom. In case you’re wondering.”

  Well, now he was wondering. That sexy tilt of her lips couldn’t be a satisfied smirk. Could not be. He’d been a bastard taking her like that and consenting adults or not, they both knew i
t.

  The one skill he couldn’t blame on extensive training was his selfish nature. He’d been born ready to take what he needed, when he needed it, with no regrets or apologies.

  “Go on,” she said, fluttering her fingers toward the door. “I’ll be fine. I need a shower anyway.”

  “But –” He should not have this much trouble finding the proper words. “I can wait until you’ve showered.”

  “You’re right.” She threw her hands up. “I should’ve thought of that. I wouldn’t feel safe if we were apart for long. Not with the story flying through cyberspace.”

  He studied her, but instead of an assignment or trying to figure out what was going on in that head of hers, all he could see was the woman now going commando under those baggy clothes.

  “After all, you said they drove us out here for a reason,” she reminded him. “Maybe you should check the bathroom. The shower specifically. Then I’ll join you. You can watch over me while I clean up. I need a shave too, so that might take a while.”

  The images prompted by her words had him wishing he could let his brain have a little of the blood supply so he could figure out what the hell she was up to. He was way behind the curve here. “I’ll make sure the doors are secure first.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her smile was serene. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “And the replacement window will be here first thing tomorrow.”

  “Again,” she nodded, “my thanks.”

  “Early. Since it’s so wet on the job site.”

  “Then we should get some sleep.”

  “Whatever.” He gave up and beat a hasty retreat, checking the doors on his way upstairs to the bathroom. He would never understand women. Didn’t want to understand them. Inexplicably pissed off, he stalked up the stairs two at a time. Sure he’d check the shower for her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already used it. He’d warm it up and wash the scent of her off his skin. Two birds, one stone.

  Maybe he hadn’t been as gentle with her as her other lovers. But she got what she wanted. He locked the bathroom door and stripped off his clothes. And thinking about it was only making him hard again. He turned the water on cold, desperate to put her out of his mind.

  She probably assumed all bodyguards screwed their clients when it suited them. It wasn’t the first time a client had come on to him, but it was the first time he’d given in to temptation.

  Everything about Amelia Bennett was different.

  Her attitude. Her drive to tell the truth rather than make shit up when facts weren’t forthcoming.

  “It’s the last job,” he said. Except that just made it worse. As a last job, he knew better than to make a mistake as big as sex in the kitchen. He should have kept his pecker in his pants and saved his energy for the topless beaches on the French Riviera.

  That thought only brought her breasts to the front of his mind. He purposely dragged a washcloth across the barely healed skin under his ribs. It wasn’t enough pain to distract him.

  Fine. He turned his mind toward the two million in his account. Having rescued Amelia from multiple death plots today, he felt confident about fulfilling the assignment and walking away from Gabriel a free man.

  Which meant he could finally entertain ideas of how to spend the money. Like a vacation. Maybe a few months in Siberia where the heavy winter gear made it impossible to differentiate the men from the women.

  Those bland, cold images should be enough to keep his head on straight for the duration of this assignment.

  He heard the door open and the shower curtain swayed in response. What the hell? He’d locked that door.

  “Wow,” she said boldly, “I expected steam in here.”

  He refused to dignify that with a remark.

  “Does sex always render you mute?”

  He resisted pointing out the obvious. His less than stellar conversation downstairs didn’t work in his favor here.

  “Hmm,” she mused. “Whatever.”

  He could just picture her pursed lips and the small hitch of her sweet, vanilla-scented shoulder.

  “With the Larimore story turned in, Bernie will be expecting new story ideas.”

  Just her voice was enough to get his body revving again. The cold water was no deterrent. Thoughts of Siberia failed him. He went on the offensive and slid the curtain aside.

  “You’ve done a bodyguard story. It’s not news.”

  She was perched on the vanity counter and the way she stared at him, lips parted, eyes hot, made him feel like the most important man in the world. He was a fool.

  “That looks a lot better,” she said, pointing to his side.

  “It is.” He refused to carry any scars from this job. It would be hard enough to put her out of his mind when this was over and she was safe.

  “You are beautiful,” she murmured.

  Had she been drugged when he wasn’t looking? He knew what he looked like well enough to know why women usually looked away in disgust. The physique drew them in, the scars repelled them.

  Not Amelia.

  If it hadn’t been steamy in here before, it should have been now. His heightened senses caught the musky scent of her arousal, her rapid pulse, and shallow breathing.

  It took a little longer to register that she’d changed clothes. Her hot pink cotton shirt was trimmed in black lace with tiny straps he wanted to snap with his teeth. The matching shorts rode high over her smooth, creamy thighs.

  She said there were condoms in here somewhere. No. Not an option. Too much was riding on this assignment to let temptation obliterate common sense again.

  “Hand me the towel,” he growled.

  Her gaze took the scenic route from the vicinity of his crotch to his face. “What if I said no?”

  Muttering a curse, he stepped out of the tub and pulled a towel off the rack. He felt her watching him and it took every last shred of self-control not to act on the jump-me-now signals she was sending out.

  While his body was willing – more than willing – his mind had just enough blood flow left to wonder what the hell she hoped to gain.

  When the towel was cinched around his waist, he reached for his clothes, only to realize she’d removed them from the hook on the door.

  Hands planted on his fists he glared at her. “What did you do with my clothes?”

  “Put them in the wash.”

  Shit. Missing her snatching his clothes just proved how much the stunt in the kitchen sidetracked him. He couldn’t afford to screw this up. For his future, and for the first time in all his service to Gabriel he realized he cared about her future too.

  “And just how am I supposed to stand guard?”

  “Hmm. Aside from the powder blue towel, you still look plenty capable to me.” She reached out to his cock, which was reaching right back for her.

  He dodged her hand and took a seat on the edge of the tub.

  Siberia. The job. She would live and he would forget her.

  But then she licked her lips and made him think about a completely different kind of job.

  Desperate, he looked past her to the reflection of her back in the mirror. Anything to get him through this faster.

  “Amelia.” His tone was sharp, all business. “What story do you think I can give you?” Her job was the only question he knew would divert her attention.

  “Yours.”

  Another fail. Christ, he was full of them tonight. “No.” He propped his elbows on his knees.

  “Fine.” She sighed. “Why not just tell me how your face ended up with the name of some guy who wound up in prison on trumped up drug trafficking charges? Oh, and let’s not forget the credit card fraud and the assault charge.”

  The mug shot, Ben’s comment, another insistent reporter. It all turned to a faint red haze at the edge of his vision. Clothes or not, he lurched to his feet.

  The bathroom was too small for the rage and pain of those memories. His temper was his weakness. Always had been.

  “Jo
hn?”

  The concern in her voice barely reached him through the buzzing in his ears. “Leave it alone. That’s old news.”

  Unsteady, he bounced off the door jamb on his way into the hall. “Control,” he muttered aloud. That was key to survival. Always had been.

  He stumbled into the guest room and sat down hard on the end of the bed. “Control.” He took a slow deep breath. It was easier when the air wasn’t full of Amelia.

  He managed his breathing, brought his pulse rate down with a bit more concentration.

  “John?”

  He held up a palm to stop her advance. “I need a minute.”

  Her silence, so full of genuine concern, offered another small dose of relief.

  When he looked up, she was waiting, arms wrapped around the closed laptop. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “It shouldn’t bother me like this.” His emotions, usually non-existent, had been pitching and soaring since her voice had come across the phone last night. “It’s over. Done.”

  “You didn’t react this way in the airport.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against his thumb, activating a pressure point between his brows. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Just was.”

  “Okay.”

  “I didn’t commit the crime that landed me in that prison.”

  “I know,” she replied softly. “I want to tell your side of that story.”

  He knew he’d regret it, but he took the chance and looked up at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Chapter Ten

  Amelia bit her lip when he finally looked up at her. The agony in his eyes was palpable and her heart clutched. Typically, she set her emotions aside for a story, but John was proving a different challenge.

  She’d lost her professional distance, even before the incredible sex. Knowing she didn’t stand a chance of restoring that objectivity, she’d decided to roll with it.

  Based on his unexpected reaction, she knew she had to help him, whether he made it easy or not. She was overdue for an op-ed piece anyway.