by Tawny Weber
Lara folded herself into the plush easy chair, arms crossed over her chest as much in irritation as to cover her nipples, which were getting quite perky over wondering about Castillo’s endowments. It was just as well that he was sitting behind a table. The only thing worse than her sudden obsession over his size would be getting caught checking. Once a guy knew you were thinking about his dick, he was all about whipping it out as if it was some kind of conversation piece.
Distraction, she told herself. Think of something else.
She winced when an image of her apartment filled her head. Nope, something else. Since she wasn’t sure what she felt about that, it was better to ignore it for a while.
“If I’m the victim here, why am I the one imprisoned?” she asked with a wave of her hand to indicate the room. She didn’t have to pretend to sound irritated. All she had to do was remember the state of her apartment, the state of her life and the fact that she wasn’t currently putting in any time toward her twelve hours of homework.
“You’ve got a funny idea of what prison life is like,” Castillo said with a laugh as he pushed back from the table. His plate sat empty, the steak and baked potato all but licked clean from it. He eyed her cold food with interest before arching a brow toward her. “Bet they eat their steak in prison.”
“I don’t see why we need to share a room,” she said, ignoring his comment the same way he’d ignored her every time she’d complained about the room arrangements. Not that she could afford a room here, but that was beside the point.
“I can protect you a lot better when I can see you.”
Okay, that was a good reason, she’d grant.
“They aren’t going to find us here, though,” she protested. Again. The man had a talent for ignoring her requests with so much charm, she’d look like a perfect bitch if she threw a fit.
She wasn’t stupid enough to resent protection, even though she was pretty sure he was partially responsible for her even needing it. But there was nothing good that could come from her being locked in a room with this guy. A room with a very big, very inviting bed. A guy this appealing was bad for her vow to stay focused on her goals.
This guy, in a hotel room? It was as if life was waving temptation in her face, challenging her to stay on track.
“I need privacy,” she indicated. “I’m used to being alone. Having you here all the time is going to smother me.”
“You look like you’re breathing okay to me,” he observed, giving her a long, intense once-over that made said breath lodge somewhere in her chest.
“How long?” she asked. Then, before he could dig in to her food, she got up, crossed the room and grabbed her plate. The look on his face was pure disappointment, like a little boy who’d just been told that Santa was fiction and Saturday had been canceled. Lara rolled her eyes, but unable to resist the cuteness, she slid the steak onto his plate.
“Thanks,” he said with a grateful grin.
“I don’t eat red meat.”
He gave her a blank stare, then shook his head as if trying to shake off the incomprehensible words.
“No red meat? What’s left?”
“Fruit, vegetables, white meat, fish, chocolate.”
He shook his head again, then quickly stabbed his fork into the steak, sliding the plate close to him as if she might suddenly realize its appeal.
“How long?” she asked again. Not only because she had things to do, but because the longer she was with him, the harder it’d be on her willpower. It was like a dieter at Christmas. The first plate of cookies was resistible, but after a week, all of Santa’s heads had been chewed off.
Nope, the less time they were together, the better.
For a second she considered suggesting the cops again. But she’d had enough experience with police to know that she was better off with a man who considered keeping her safe his mission.
“I have a life, you know. I can’t live it in a hotel room with you.”
Castillo flicked a quick glance up from the steak, his eyes holding hot promise before he dropped his gaze back to the plate.
Lara took a shaky breath, filling her mouth with a forkful of salad to keep herself from saying something else that might inspire that look again, just to see if it was as sexy as she thought.
“I figure we’re here for a while. Can you handle that?” he asked, his look assessing now instead of horny.
“That depends on how many hours there are in a while.” What was it with men and their stupid nonanswers? Her father had specialized in that. He’d play the conversation along for hours, days. Sometimes even weeks. Until he figured out exactly what her hoped for response was so he could be sure he went in the opposite direction.
“As soon as I get the green light from the team that everything is copacetic with that guy, Phillip, who you claim isn’t your brother. Then we’ll be clear.”
“Copacetic?” Lara’s lips twitched, so she shoveled in more salad to keep them busy. “I have to work, among other things. I can’t wait for the return of the ’70s.”
“You’re gonna have to call in sick for a few days,” he said, eyeing the baked potato still on her plate.
Lara cut off a chunk, scooped it through the sour cream, then popped it into her mouth with a defiant smile, even as she shook her head.
“I don’t call in sick. In the first place, I’m not sick, so that’d be lying. In the second place, I can’t afford to miss work. You wanna play bodyguard, you can do it while I’m on stage.”
“You can miss a few days.”
Said like a typical man. Her eyes flicked to his leather jacket while her mind flashed to the wad of cash he’d shelled out for this room.
“You grew up with money, didn’t you?” she said.
“I make my own way. Besides, if research is right, you grew up with a hell of a lot more than I did.”
Touché. Lara grimaced.
“Let’s put it this way—every paycheck is vital at this juncture of my life. Besides, if I don’t show up, I’ll lose my spot in the chorus line.”
“Can’t be helped. You’re vulnerable there and I’m not letting some goon with a knife fetish stare at you in all your seminaked glory. He sees all that gorgeous flesh and he might not be able to control himself.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve had worse staring at all my naked flesh before,” she said, slanting him an ironic look to remind him that he’d been staring himself that very afternoon.
Castillo’s smile was as unapologetic as his shrug.
“Think of it this way, the nights are getting cooler and by staying here safe with me, you’ll be able to keep all your clothes on. I’m good for you, see? Keeping you from maybe catching a cold.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Lara snapped, pushing away from the table as the frayed edges of her temper shattered. “Look, buddy, I’ve been on my own for many years now. Maybe I’ve made a few mistakes here and there—here being a major one, by the way. But for the most part I’ve done a damned good job of taking care of myself. I don’t need some macho man with a bodyguard complex telling me what I need.”
Did he look abashed? Did he apologize?
Hell, no.
Castillo just pulled an intrigued face, his fingers tapping a mellow rhythm against his empty plate as he leaned back in his chair and gave her a long, contemplative look.
“It’s for your own good,” he finally said, his avuncular smile echoing the arrogance of his tone.
Lara could have sworn she felt her head explode. She slammed her plate on the small table hard enough that the bud vase shook and the rose dropped a petal. She gouged her fists into her hips and leaned forward so her face was inches from his.
“And you know what’s good for me? Because, why? Is it that big bad man thing? Like li’l ole me, poor penisless thing that I am, doesn’t have a clue?”
Breathing in with a hiss, she stepped back and waited for his apology.
The son of a bitch nodded.
Lara’s fist
s clenched. Then she noticed the amusement on his face making his dimple wink.
Hell. She winced. He’d been winding her up. And she’d walked right into it. She should know better. The few times in her life that Phillip had pretended to be her brother instead of the reigning prince of the house, he’d done the same thing. She’d hated it then, too.
Since dumping his school medals in the flower garden then turning on the sprinklers the way she had with her brother wasn’t an option, Lara decided on a more grown-up form of revenge.
She’d spent enough of her life on stage, using her body to make a point. So all it took was a shift of her hips, a tilt of her chin and twisting just a little to thrust her breasts out. Her bottom lip pouted and she let her gaze turn slumberous.
The message was sex.
Castillo’s eyes narrowed, interest flaring hot and intense in the blue depths. His smile sharpened, more seductive than amused now. He still leaned back in the chair, but his body tensed, as if he were about to leap up and grab her.
Good.
Lara shifted, leaning her hip against the table and casually running her finger over her bottom lip before giving a deep sigh. His eyes didn’t drop so much as meander their way down from her face to her throat to her breasts. His gaze was electric, so arousing she felt as if he’d brushed his fingers over her nipples, bringing them to attention.
“You know, it’d be a terrible shame to underestimate me,” she told him, keeping her voice low and just-out-of-bed husky.
“Believe me, I don’t underestimate a single thing.”
“Hmm, maybe not.” She moved forward, sliding around the table so her butt was against the edge and her front within touching distance of his.
Before she could decide if she was going to plop herself down in his lap or grab his shirtfront and pull him to his feet, Castillo rose.
The man towered over her. For a woman who stood five-ten barefoot, that was a rare thing. Between his height and his bulk, he made her feel positively petite. Fragile and ladylike, even.
Liking it, Lara tilted her head in challenge. She hadn’t formed much of a plan when she’d made her first move. Just to make him uncomfortable.
Now all she wanted was to see how he tasted, how he felt. To find out what he could make her feel.
“You might want to factor this into your estimating,” she told him before sliding her hands up his chest and linking them behind his neck.
Her eyes locked on his dark gaze, Lara stood on tiptoe to brush her lips over his.
Oh. He tasted so good. Sweet and sexy at the same time. His mouth was soft, his bottom lip tempting her. Unable—unwilling—to resist, she gave it a quick nip before soothing it with her tongue.
It was like lighting a stick of dynamite.
One second he was calm, almost mellow.
The next he exploded.
Castillo’s hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against his body. Oh, man, what a body he had—hard, big and enticing. Lara had to force herself not to rub against him like a cat in heat.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold out, though.
He took over the kiss, his tongue thrusting between her lips, fast and furious. Hot and wild.
Lara’s chest grew tight because she was breathing so hard. Her thighs trembled, damp need pooling between her legs, her core aching for his touch.
Danger, her mind screamed. It took it a few rounds, though, before the warning penetrated the passion fogging her brain.
Screw danger. Her lips moved under Castillo’s; her tongue tangled with his in a wild dance. Her fingers roamed up and down the hard plane of his glorious chest. The soft fabric of his shirt skimmed her knuckles, making her impatient to get it off him.
He was so yummy. It was like licking a chocolate fountain, sucking on a salted caramel, all with the promise of orgasmic delights yet to come and all of them calorie-free, pleasure-inducingly incredible.
Impatient, need scrambling through her as wet heat coiled low and tight between her thighs, she flicked a button open to get his shirt out of her way.
She’d only unbuttoned two more when his fingers closed over hers. Castillo’s mouth was still hot, his tongue still dancing with hers. But he changed the pace. Now it was soothing. Her heart rate slowed from frantic need to mellow desire. She’d never ridden passion like a roller coaster before, but this man made her want to ride again and again.
So achingly slow, he pulled his mouth from hers. His lips brushed softly over hers once or twice before he lifted his head.
Lara’s breath shuddered, her insides actually shaking with need. Her lashes fluttered a couple of times before she forced them up so she could look at him.
His eyes were hot, his dimples so sexy she couldn’t resist sliding her thumb over one.
“Believe me, I’m not holding your not having a penis against you,” he promised in a husky tone. His breath warmed her face, his body hot against hers. Her shaky insides turned molten, desire washing over her in huge, crashing waves.
Then, shocking the hell out of her, he set Lara aside. Actually lifted her by the elbows and moved her a half foot away from him. She was tempted to reach out and grab him, just to prove that she could. Then she remembered that she was trying to make a point.
She just wished she could remember what it was. She sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, hoping the air would reignite her brain.
“But as good as that was, I’m here to keep you safe,” he said, the warmth leaving his tone as if he’d just flipped a switch.
Sexy guy to military mannequin, she realized, trying not to grind her teeth in frustration. Then she remembered the point of that kiss. To punish him for laughing at her.
Ah, life and its little jokes at her expense.
Lara pushed her hand through her hair, wondering when she’d learn.
Instead of punishing him, she’d made a fool of herself. Now she looked like a sex groupie, his for the plucking. Worse, Lara was pretty sure if he wanted to pluck her, she’d dive right in, desperate to feel more of the magic he’d been wielding over her body.
“Right. Safe,” she said, not sure if she was more irritated at his macho act or sexually frustrated. It didn’t matter. Both sucked. “And if I don’t want your protection?”
Castillo’s face was blank for a second, looking like a soldier or sailor or whatever he called himself. Then, in the blink of an eye, his expression shifted. Calming charm. She figured it was just as effective a weapon as whatever guns he played with. As long as his opponent was female.
He slid into the chair opposite her, oddly graceful for a guy as huge as he was.
Don’t think about size, she warned herself. She was glad he was sitting, though, and almost patted the table in appreciation for it blocking her view of his lap.
“Look, I’m not trying to mess up your life. This really is for your own good. There are guys out there who will hurt you in a major way. I have orders to prevent that. So why don’t you settle in, call it a holiday and enjoy yourself?” Castillo flashed those dimples, his tone so reasonable that Lara almost nodded before the words hit her brain.
Seriously? She was an assignment to him, and that was it? How ego smashing was that? Here she was, her panties wet and her lips still tingling from his kiss. She was sneaking peaks at his package and weaving lusty fantasies about the various ways she’d like to use his body as a sex toy. And he saw her as an obligation.
Not sure if she wanted to throw a tantrum or strip naked and show him what he was missing, Lara threw herself into the chair instead. She bit her lip, then figuring she’d rather he not know how crazy horny he’d gotten her before easily stepping back, Lara made a show of eating her cold potato.
She debated her options. Staying here in a hotel room with the guy was the suckiest one. But what were her choices?
He said she was in danger but he hadn’t said why. Because, what? Her brother was a jerk?
Every minute that ticked by eked away a lit
tle more of the horror that’d been her apartment experience. Sure, some creeps had trashed the place. And yeah, someone had been hauled out. But that didn’t mean the creeps had actually hurt someone. There were old people in the building. But Castillo had rushed her out so fast, spouting his conspiracy theory so convincingly, that she hadn’t verified a damned thing.
She made a show of eating, sneaking peeks at the man across from her every few seconds. If he was peeking at her, he had a lot of skill at hiding it. Instead, all of his attention was on his phone, reading whatever the hell was on there. Maybe more instructions on how to mess with her life.
Not gonna happen, Lara decided. She set the fork down, determined to take off at the first opportunity. Those goons might be something of a threat. But she figured Castillo was a bigger one. The goons might try to hurt her. But the gorgeous guy with dimples across from her? A guy with a mouth and hands like his could devastate her without any effort at all.
* * *
DOMINIC SCROLLED THROUGH his messages, putting all his focus on ignoring the woman sitting across from him.
He’d never blown a mission. And as much as he appreciated women in all their various forms of entertainment, he’d never let one interfere while he was on duty.
Hell, he couldn’t remember ever even thinking about one while he was in uniform. Maybe that was the problem—he was in civilian clothes and not officially on duty. Sure, his dog tags were hanging from his neck, but clearly they weren’t enough. Pursing his lips, he tapped a few keys on his phone, looking for a surplus store nearby. A camo tee, a cap, maybe they’d help.
Better yet, he could get a tent and wrap the sexy brunette in it. Maybe she’d be less tempting buried in yards of fabric.
Mocking that thought, his brain immediately went to a vision of Lara on stage, dancing in feathers and a few scraps of fabric. Long silky legs, her flat abs glittering and her lips glistening wet.
Those lips that tasted like sugar, addicting and delicious.
That body, a perfect fit against his with all her exquisite curves and tempting angles.
