Trusting the Bodyguard

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Her eyes were troubled and he wondered what could compel her to come to him in the dead of night. Whatever it was, it was eating her up inside and for that he wished he could just ease her mind. But he didn’t get the chance for she chickened out. “Never mind,” she whispered, turning to bolt but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Not so fast,” he said, easing his hold on her but not quite letting go. He could feel the wild thrum of her pulse under the pads of his fingertips, further proof of her anxiety. His thumb rubbed lazy, gentle circles on the soft skin in his possession while he looked her in the eye. “Say what you came to say,” he said.

  “It’s not important,” she stammered. Her tongue snaked out to moisten the plump bottom lip that Archer found maddeningly tempting. The house was quiet and dark. He was curious…and hungry.

  “It’s the middle of the night,” he reminded her quietly, his gaze lingering on the proud high cheekbones. “Whatever it is obviously couldn’t wait until morning, so just go ahead and say it.”

  “I changed my mind,” she said, gasping as he pulled her to him.

  A slow smile molded his mouth. She came with little resistance but he could feel her heart slamming hard, and those gorgeous drown-in-me eyes were wide and dilated, betraying her as readily as her lush mouth when it opened slightly. Yet no protest followed. She was like a beautifully trapped bird and he wanted to keep her forever.

  “Archer—”

  “Too late, baby,” he all but growled, knowing that she thrilled at his authority even if she resisted it. It’d been a game they’d played often and he was quick to recall the rules from his memory. “You knew the minute you came to my door what you were looking for,” he said. And I’d be a fool to let you go. Still, he waited a millisecond for her refusal. As he knew it wouldn’t, nothing of the sort fell from her lips.

  Slowly, he slid both hands down to her perfect ass and filled each palm, lifting her to his mouth even as he bent to meet her. She opened on a gentle gasp and he pressed her harder against him, taking her mouth with deep, lazy yet possessive strokes of his tongue against hers.

  This is what his dreams were made of—him and Marissa pressed against each other, wanting, needing, taking, giving—and it filled him with heady desire that she was real and not just a figment of his memory.

  He’d planned to take things slow but there was a craving so deep, his bones ached, and soon he wasn’t sure who was in control any longer.

  He lifted her with a groan born of need and she wrapped her legs around him, pressing the hot core of her against his midsection. He nearly lost all sense of reason, not that he had a lot at this point, but he clung to whatever he could to keep himself in check. A kiss wasn’t going to hurt anyone, he thought with ragged justification. A kiss…one hot scorcher of a kiss, but just a kiss.

  But then somehow they landed on the bed and as her nimble fingers grazed the hard, straining length that he was trying his damndest to keep under control, he bit back a groan and knew he was screwed.

  HOW DID IT COME TO this? Marissa didn’t know but she was starving for his touch. There were too many layers of clothing between them, she thought, jerking at the soft material that kept him from her. He ripped at the expensive dress shirt she wore and she laughed as buttons popped, baring her breasts to his hot and wild gaze. He looked like a man who’d died and gone to heaven. Or a man about to consume the best meal he’d ever eaten. The thought sent a riotous shudder through her body as she moved to claim his mouth as he’d claimed hers.

  His touch burned away the rot of what she’d done with Ruben and seared new memories into her brain that she gladly embraced.

  Archer’s tongue tangled with hers and she moaned against his lips, barely able to catch her breath as he assaulted her in the most wonderful way possible and her panties were suddenly gone along with his pants and T-shirt.

  Oh, how she’d missed this magical feeling between two people who couldn’t get enough of one another. No, it wasn’t that simple. She’d missed Archer. Desperately.

  They rolled and she went on top. His hands cupping and kneading her breasts, rolling the pebbled tips of her nipples with hands that were rough and gentle at the same time. She gasped as spikes of desire sent warm heat south and she slicked quickly with moisture, eager—no, frantic—to feel him inside her.

  But before she could impale herself on that wonderful, rigid length of his, he rolled her again and she only had a moment to sulk as he threw her legs over his shoulders and buried his face in that hot, pulsing center, flicking and teasing the coiled tension building inside her. She breathed deeply, twisting the soft, pillowy comforter in her fists, as a cry built in her throat. Her belly quivered and her muscles trembled as a wave of clenching sensation made her suck a wild breath as she came so hard, she was limp and barely able to catch her breath when it was over.

  Oh, yesss. Little shock waves of pleasure shimmered through her body in pleasant waves and tingles but she had little opportunity to simply lie sated and weak. Archer’s tight, feral expression as he loomed over her sent a dark thrill chasing after the orgasm that wrung her out, and she grinned up at him, daring him to push her to that edge again.

  Thank God, Archer was never one to back down from a challenge.

  ARCHER’S HANDS SHOOK with his need to fill her body. Her skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat and the musk of her desire filled the air. It was like heaven.

  She was ready, pliant and willing. She clung to him and whispered soft erotic words guaranteed to send him driving into her. That’s exactly what she wanted and he was more than willing to give it to her. He gritted his teeth, pausing only long enough to rip open the condom package and sheath himself before slipping into her with one bone-melting thrust that sent a wild shudder screaming down his body as his brain screamed more and he mindlessly obeyed.

  She wrapped her legs around him and he buried his face against the sweet skin of her neck, sucking in the soft flesh with enough pressure to earn a gasp but not enough to leave a mark, and moved with her in perfect rhythm. This woman was everything to him, his heart sang, as his body claimed hers. And when he came in hot spurts that hurtled out of his body, his mind had little time to balk at the simple message his heart was calling out.

  That would come soon enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT WAS SEVERAL HOURS later when Marissa slid from Archer’s bed, rumpled, deliciously sore in all the right places, and suffering from a major case of Mother-Mary-have-you-lost-your-mind? She snatched her discarded shirt from the floor, remembering too late that the buttons had all been ripped off in their frenzy, and simply tucked the ruined shirt against her sides as she tried to tiptoe from the room.

  Archer awoke as she reached the door.

  “Where you going?” he inquired sleepily. She’d forgotten how easily he awoke, a remnant from his military training.

  She turned, her hand still on the door. “The baby…I can’t leave her alone. She might roll off the bed or something. I’d feel more comfortable being with her,” she whispered, glad for the dark of the room so he wouldn’t have to watch her walk of regret. She’d never do anything to hurt him—again—but that’s exactly what she’d end up doing if he read her face right now. He’d take it the wrong way, they’d end up arguing, and then she might lose the one ally she had in this whole mess.

  But he seemed to accept her answer and she slipped from the room, relieved yet weighed down by the knowledge that this was likely a one-time deal.

  She hurried to the guest bedroom and after a quick wash in the bathroom, she climbed into bed, careful not to jostle the baby.

  Archer, she said his name in her head and closed her eyes but he was still there. Sex had been a mistake. When the light of morning hit, he’d come to that realization, too. She’d have to be ready for it so it didn’t tear her to shreds. But it’d been so wonderful, so perfect. Why’d it have to be wrong? She squeezed her eyes tighter but the moisture welling managed to escape anyway. A physical ache blo
omed in her chest and she recognized it for what it was—a wounded heart.

  She’d pushed Archer away. She had no right to hope for more. Besides, what if he was only pretending to get close to her to stab her in the back later? It would only be what she deserved. She shuddered. The thought was too much to bear.

  Marissa buried her head in her pillow and quietly wept.

  ARCHER AWOKE A LITTLE later than usual but still before the sun crested the horizon. God, he felt good. There was a spring in his step, a smile on his face, and his muscles had that great worked-over feeling he got after an intense gym session. His first thought was of freshly squeezed orange juice and how good it would taste sliding down his throat.

  Bounding from the bed, a whiff of last night’s activities assailed his nostrils. His grin widened and he considered waking Marissa with a kiss but as he walked the hallway toward the guest bedroom he realized there was movement downstairs. Peering over the banister, he saw Marissa’s dark head as she sat on the sofa, thumbing through an old Car and Driver magazine.

  “Good morning,” he said, coming down the stairs. “Sleep good?”

  “Not really,” came her answer, sending a discordant note through his mind that signaled bad news was coming. That feel-good, happy mood began to leak out of him like helium through a pinpricked balloon. “We need to talk,” she said as she tossed the magazine to the coffee table.

  And there went the last of the good feelings.

  “I think this is going to require coffee first,” he grumbled. Why did everything good in his life have such a short shelf life, he wanted to know. Josh had always accused him of being a pessimist, but really, Archer considered himself more of a realist, and so when he finally sat across from Marissa, he wasn’t surprised when she started the conversation with an unhappy frown.

  “Archer, you know I care about you,” she began in what sounded a lot like the speech she gave when she broke their engagement. His hands curled around the hot cup, but he didn’t take a drink. He watched her as she struggled with the right words needed to crush him to dust and wondered why she was trying to tiptoe around it. He leaned back and slowly raised the cup to his lips, his gaze boring into hers, daring her to continue. She faltered for a moment but kept going. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes as of late and I think last night—”

  “Was a mistake,” he cut in, unable to let her finish. He could take a bullet without crying but listening to Marissa filet him alive with those soft words and brown doe-eyes did a number on him that he wasn’t willing to entertain again. He shrugged away her frown at his interruption and continued. “Yeah, I get that. Is this really what this conversation is going to be like? Because if it is, let me save you the trouble. I get it, Marissa. You were horny and wanted to relive some old times. Great. Same here. But don’t worry, one roll in the sack isn’t going to make me drop to my knees and propose. I made that mistake once and I don’t make the same mistake twice, so stop worrying that pretty little head of yours over little ol’ me. Okay? Okay. Great. Glad that’s over. I’m going for a run.”

  He finished the coffee, burning the hell out of his mouth in the process but welcoming the pain, and sprinted up the stairs, eager to get the hell away from her. A run would do him good, clear his head of the sappy, poisonous feelings that he’d been marinating in mere hours ago and put his thoughts back on track.

  He was changed and ready within minutes. But as he descended the stairs, adjusting his iPod on his biceps and fitting his earbuds into place, he was confronted by one angry Latina.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, her voice trembling with rage and something else just under the surface. If he didn’t know better he’d have said it was hurt feelings, but the woman had a chunk of ice where her heart should be, so that couldn’t possibly be it. He moved past her and she followed. “Don’t turn your back on me, Archer. This isn’t finished until I get my say. You don’t get to dump all over me and then go on your way, happy as a clam. Do you hear me?”

  He turned. “Marissa, I think the entire forest can hear you. You’re getting a little shrill. Dial it down, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Well, I do mind and I won’t dial it down,” she returned, a note of hysteria coloring her voice, her eyes flashing with righteous anger. “You have some nerve to treat me like this. Is this how you treat everyone who comes to you for help?”

  “Of course not. As a rule I don’t sleep with the people I’m assigned to,” he said casually. Inside he was as angry as she was on the outside but he wasn’t ready to let her see how her rejection had cut him. “But then, you weren’t assigned to me, either. You’re more like a freelance gig so all bets are off, right? Besides, what are you all jacked up about, sweetheart? We both got what we wanted, no harm no foul, and I’m still going to help you out as best as I can so stop looking at me like you want to commit a felony.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes and her mouth quivered. He already felt rotten inside. What was one more load to carry? “Is that all?” he asked.

  She lifted her chin before she spoke, taking the time to make sure her voice didn’t betray anything more than her face had already and said, “Thanks for clearing things up for me. You’re a jackass and I was wrong to think you might’ve been the one. You see, I thought I was the one who had made the mistake letting you go, but now I realize it was a blessing. You’re as black inside as Ruben. It just took a lot longer for me to see it.”

  She turned stiffly away from him and then walked up the stairs, her shoulders as straight as her spine, and then disappeared behind a closed door.

  Temptation prompted him to follow her, his heart begged for him to apologize, but his head forced his feet to move in the opposite direction. The drill sergeant in charge sent him out the door, running for control of his life.

  MARISSA’S EYES WERE swollen and she’d tried commanding the tears to stop but they came anyway. It seemed all she’d done in the past week was bawl. She was sick of herself, her weakness, her own failings. It burned to know that she and Mercedes had the same tendency to make bad choices when it came to men. She’d always prided herself on not following the same path as her older sister yet the facts were clear. Mercedes had fallen helplessly in love with a criminal; she’d given her heart to a bastard. The end result was similar with one small difference—she wasn’t dead.

  How could she have been so blind when it came to Archer? She packed what little belongings she’d brought with her and started with Jenna’s things.

  But she couldn’t think straight any longer and that extended to tasks as simple as throwing clothes into a bag. She crawled into the bed, thankful Jenna was still fast asleep, and curled up to the one person she’d do anything for and knew the sacrifice would be worth it.

  Perhaps Archer considered this payback for how she ended things. Perhaps he thought his flippant treatment was justified. He’d be wrong. He had no idea how she’d already suffered. And it was simply cruel of him to try and carve more out of her than what had already been taken.

  If he knew…A soft hiccup followed and she shut down her mind, needing sleep. And God help her…a new life.

  ARCHER RAN. HIS FEET HIT the paved road, creating a staccato beat that kept him going even when his lungs burned and his shoulder screamed from the activity. So much for babying it. Sorry, Doc.

  Why couldn’t he push Marissa from his mind? That crushed look on her face that she’d tried to hide with indignation kept coming back to slap him. She was right. He was a jackass. And a coward. That’s what she didn’t know. God, he’d been terrified of that pain of rejection so he’d drop-kicked her first. What a pussy. What a grade-A asshole. He hadn’t given her the chance to even say what she’d been trying to tell him. What if he misconstrued the whole thing? What if she’d been working up the nerve to say something that had nothing to do with kicking him to the curb? A sick feeling lodged in his gut that had nothing to do with the fact that he’d just pounded out ten miles after a long hiatus from his usu
al exercise routine. Well, it might have something to do with it, he thought regretfully, slowing to heave his guts out against the base of a pine tree. Coffee and not much else splashed to the ground and he realized he’d pushed things too far.

  And he wasn’t just talking about the run.

  Good thing he had a long way back to figure out how to fix things.

  MARISSA HAD FINISHED feeding Jenna and cleaning up the mess when Archer walked through the door, looking like hell. The brisk spring air had put roses in his cheeks but against the white of his skin it only looked garish. He was breathing heavily and headed straight for the kitchen sink. She watched, curious in spite of her decision to tell him exactly how he could shove his help up his ass, as he dunked his head and drank straight from the tap. She blinked. That was unlike Archer.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, cursing herself for being a sucker. In a past life she was probably a victim of Jack the Ripper. “Does this have anything to do with your shoulder injury?” she asked, remembering the white bandage from last night.

  He simply looked at her. Fine. Jackass. She stiffened and picked up the baby so she could get everything loaded in the car but he stopped her when she reached the base of the stairs.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His voice, hoarse and raspy, made her turn. “Excuse me?” she asked, afraid to even consider that he might be apologizing for being such a royal ass. But as she met his gaze, she realized there was real contrition staring back at her and she couldn’t help but soften just a little. “You’re sorry. That’s a start,” she admitted, glancing away. She didn’t trust herself while he continued to look at her that way. “Sorry for what?”