Blake coughed. “I have something that might help.” He stood up, finding his bag where he’d dumped it by the wall and pulling out the sheaf of paper from lunch. He dug through until he found what he was looking for, and tugged it out.
He handed it to Destiny, who stared at it for a long moment.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
Blake cleared his throat. “The guy that delivered the roses to Sierra.”
Destiny looked at Blake through her lashes. “And how did you acquire this image?”
Blake shrugged. “Anonymous source?”
Destiny rolled her eyes. “As good an excuse as any of yours have been, I suppose.”
Blake was unrepentant. “I get the job done.”
Destiny levered herself to her feet. “I should go,” she told them. “Before you admit something you shouldn’t and make me an accessory.” With a hug for each of them, she slipped out of the apartment. Sierra was pleased to note that her and Blake’s hug had been brief and platonic. If anything, her smile for Sierra had lingered longer than her one for Blake.
Sierra almost rolled her eyes at herself. Jealousy was so not her style.
She turned to Blake. “Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t let me out of your sight?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll stay here with you from now on. At least until this guy is behind bars. Or otherwise prevented from hurting you.”
She nearly asked what he meant, but his fierce expression told her everything she needed to know. He would do whatever it took to protect her.
Even kill.
Chapter 19
Blake lay on Sierra’s couch, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Weak moonlight filtered through the uneven blinds, splashing patches of brightness around the room. The wool blanket she’d given him itched against is bare chest as he shifted. He was too tall for even Sierra’s decent-sized couch, his legs dangling off the edge.
Blake didn’t know whether Sierra couldn’t afford a two bedroom, or if she’d just never bothered wasting her money given the exorbitant Portsboro rents. He suspected the latter, and didn’t blame her at all. But he really could have done with a proper bed.
Not that he could blame his sleeplessness on just his discomfort. He’d slept in much worse places as a SEAL. No, the reason he was still staring up into nothingness was sleeping behind the door that lay beyond the back of the couch.
Was he attracted to Sierra? Yes. Did he like her as a person? Yes. Could he sleep with her? Hard no. She was his client and he had morals.
Besides, he needed his job. It was the only thing keeping him sane, the only way he could prove to the world, to Duncan, to himself that he still had what it took to be part of the elite.
Unfortunately, his dick and his brain weren’t getting the message.
She was right there on the other side of that door. She was also vulnerable right now, which was putting a damper on his ardour. Quite apart from all the other reasons, he wouldn’t take advantage of her.
But he needed to figure out what to do. He couldn’t continue like this, lusting after her. It was unprofessional, and frankly frustrating. They both deserved better.
And yet, he was the only one that could take this assignment. If he couldn’t protect Sierra himself, he would at least trust any of his colleagues at Soldiering On, but none were available. Beyond that, though? Not a chance. He wouldn’t let corporate slicks like those from Beaton Security within a foot of her. There was no way people that worked in an office like theirs would be able to do everything that it took to protect her.
So, Blake was stuck here, mooning over a woman he couldn’t have, like a pathetic teenager.
Disgusted with himself, Blake threw the blanket back and made his way into the kitchen. Maybe Sierra had some tea or something that would settle his mind down. He didn’t bother turning the light on as he went, in case it woke Sierra up.
He’d just set the kettle to boil when a rustling came from behind him. He spun around, catching a glimpse of Sierra standing in the doorway, wrapped in a satin dressing gown that was obscenely short.
Her eyes were riveted on him. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t look him in the eye, so her eyes fell about chest height. She was so still, he wasn’t convinced that she was breathing.
“It’s just me,” he said, trying to reassure her. He hadn’t meant to scare her.
She blinked, shook herself, and met his gaze. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I came out because I heard you moving around and needed a distraction from my thoughts.”
“It’s fine,” he told her. “Strange men in your kitchen after midnight is a perfectly reasonable thing to be afraid of given your situation.” He gave her a charming smile. “Tea?”
She nodded. “Chamomile is on the top shelf.” She indicated with a nod of her head.
He took out two tea bags and two cups and began preparing the brew. He could feel her eyes on him, boring into his back. Should he turn on a light?
As he poured the kettle, he glanced down and realised that he didn’t have his prosthetic on. He’d taken it off to sleep, and hadn’t bothered to reattach it. But she’d never seen his stump before.
He turned, carefully so as not to startle her.
Again, her eyes were focused nowhere near his face. “Is it the arm?” he asked, holding it out to indicate what he was talking about.
“Hmmm?” she murmured, still looking at his chest. She blinked, shook herself, then glanced at his eyes, his arm, and back again.
“No,” she said emphatically. “But you might want to put on a shirt.”
Blake looked down at himself once again. No shirt. Huh. He grinned. “Like what you see?”
She rolled her eyes and looked away, but even in the darkness, he could see that she was blushing. Unable to resist, he moved closer, prowling towards her. A voice in his head—probably his conscience—told him to stop, turn back. But she stood there in her too-short dressing gown, looking delectable and admiring his chest. All the rational reasons he had given himself for why he shouldn’t do this fled his mind at the sight.
He stopped a few scant inches from her. She didn’t back away. Instead, she turned very slowly towards him. The satiny sleeve of her wrap brushed against his stomach as she moved. His muscles contracted at the touch, a shiver rippling down his spine. He wanted her hands to follow.
His heart hammered in anticipation, his mouth dry. Would she make the first move? Would he?
Their eyes locked.
He took a piece of the satin fabric of her dressing gown and rubbed it between his fingers. Imagined it was her, so soft and right.
She licked her lips.
“You better walk away now,” he murmured, gaze fastened on her lips.
“Why?” she whispered, leaning closer. She brushed against him, a touch so light it was barely there.
He swayed towards her, pulled by some force beyond his control. He was an inch from her lips, his will to resist crumbling with every beat of his heart. “I can’t remember.” His voice was hardly louder than a breath. He had barely got the words out before their lips fused together. He didn’t know which of them had made the first move, or if it was some power beyond them, but he wasn’t going to question his good fortune.
He planted his hand against the small of her back, slipping over the silky fabric covering it as he hauled her towards him. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself, her fingers kneading the muscles.
He licked at her lips, seeking an entrance that she happily granted. She tasted of minty toothpaste and the sweetness of strawberries.
One of her hands slid up the back of his neck, burrowing into his hair. He nibbled at her bottom lip and her hand tightened its grip. She liked that. Good to know.
He did it again.
She pressed herself more firmly against him, her breasts brushing against his chest with every breath. He could feel the way they pebbled at the friction through the thin satin of her dressing gown.
His cock throbbed a
t the thought of where else she might be reacting to him.
He stepped forward, taking her with him until her back was pressed against the doorframe. She gasped, breaking their kiss, her warm breath fanning over his cheek.
He placed hot, open-mouthed kisses to that spot behind her ear, her neck, the juncture of her shoulder. Further down, to the valley between her breasts. He nudged the lapel of her dressing gown aside, only to discover a white cotton tank top beneath. He tilted his head back and raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “What did you expect?”
“I guess I was hoping you’d come out here to seduce me. Since I’m so irresistible.”
She laughed, and he grinned at the sound. He could listen to that sound for a very long time, even better if he was the one inspiring it.
She was braless beneath the tank top, and if he squinted hard in the darkness, he could almost imagine that he was looking at the faint outline of her nipple underneath the thin fabric. He kissed it, a playful peck, then placed his mouth on her, wetting the fabric with his tongue.
Both her hands now gripped his hair, tightening with every lick and graze of his teeth. Her breath was unsteady, and Blake focused on every catch and sigh, discovering what she liked so he could do it again.
He waited until she was squirming against him. Then with a parting kiss, he switched breasts.
He ran his hand up hair bare thigh, lazily running from knee to hip and back again. His fingers brushed against the edge of her panties, but he was in no hurry.
“Blake…” she murmured. He took that as his cue, tracing his fingers around the edge of her panties until he reached the juncture of her thighs. His fingers encountered damp fabric and he grinned in triumph.
He kissed his way down her stomach, the dressing gown falling open as he went. He knelt on the linoleum in front of her, sitting back on his haunches until he was level with where he most wanted to be. Her panties were navy blue, he discovered, nearly black in the muted light from the lounge room blinds.
She moaned as he brushed his fingers over the dampness of her underwear. He revelled in it, knowing he gave her that pleasure as continued to work her.
But he needed to taste her.
He tugged at her panties, sliding them over her legs. A thrill raced through him at the sound of her gasps of anticipation.
“Patience,” he muttered, but he wasn’t sure whether it was for himself or for her.
His mouth watered. He needed to taste her so badly he felt like a shipwrecked sailor dying of thirst.
He nudged her legs wider apart, so he could fit between them. He dragged her hips forward, until only her upper back was against the doorframe to balance her, giving him better access. His hand gripped her hip to steady her.
Then, finally, finally, he had his first taste.
She was rich and sweet, coating his tongue as he teased her entrance. She tilted her hips to give him better access, her hand in his hair pressing him even firmer against her. He complied, dipping his tongue into her, then flattening it, dragging it up until he reached her clit. Once there, he stayed for a while, licking and sucking. Her moans were louder now, her pants faster.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, anticipating the moment when she’d fall apart.
He increased his speed, alternating between dipping his tongue inside her and working her clit. Her hips moved involuntarily, and Blake paid attention to the language they communicated, adjusting to her needs.
And then she broke.
With a sharp cry, she contracted, her fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair. Her legs wobbled, and Blake eased her back against the wall, keeping his hand on her to steady her. He stood, his blood thundering a primal beat in his veins.
Sierra gazed up at him with satisfied eyes. A thrill of triumph sang through him, increasing the tempo of the beat in his chest. He wanted her so badly he could barely breathe.
He took her mouth in a hungry kiss. Her hands were lazy at first, barely drifting over him. But the kiss must have sparked a renewed interest in her because her fingers slipped inside the waistband of his pants, pulling him snug against her. She wrapped a leg around his hip, rubbing her core against the erection, threatening to break through his jogging shorts.
It wasn’t enough. He wanted no barriers between them. He needed to touch her bare skin, feel it against him. He folded his arm around her, lifting her so that she was completely off the ground. She locked her ankles around his waist.
With great reluctance, he tore his mouth from hers. “Bedroom?” he asked.
She nodded with a sly grin. “Please.”
He carried her into the bedroom, his strong arm anchored to her waist. She ran her hands over his hard muscles, anywhere she could reach. They jumped under her touch. Was he ticklish? She grinned at the thought of this big, tough man having such an incongruous secret.
Sierra nibbled on his ear as he carried her through the door of her bedroom. Languid satisfaction still rolled through her from her orgasm, but the faint buzz of renewed arousal lay just on the horizon. She had no doubt that Blake intended to get her there again.
He lay her on the bed, following her down so that his heavy chest pushed her into the soft mattress. He winced as he propped himself up on his elbow. Sierra remembered his injury and almost said something, but his face cleared almost immediately once he adjusted his weight.
Her legs still held his waist in a vice-like grip, and the new angle put exquisite pressure on her clit. Her core clenched in aftershock of her previous orgasm and she gasped as a bolt of pleasure shot through her.
She felt Blake’s grin against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose against her. “You’re still so sensitive.” The words were only a short step away from smug. She silenced him by turning her head and capturing his lips in a kiss.
He responded, deepening the kiss and thrusting his cloth-covered erection against her bare core. The friction was so slow and steady that she almost didn’t notice the heat building in her once again. Her skin tightened with each small, controlled thrust, and heat flared through her.
“Off,” she managed.
Blake froze. “Hmmm?”
“Clothes off,” she repeated. The flames dancing through her veins were almost too intense.
He chuckled darkly in her ear. “With pleasure.”
He levered himself up into a kneeling position and reached for the waistband of his shorts. The wide expanse of his chest rose above her, displayed like a canvas in a gallery, and just as beautiful. A canvas she could touch.
Distracted from her goal of getting them both naked, she reached out to plant a hand against his abs. It was then that she noticed the healing wound in his shoulder. The one that looked awfully like a bullet wound.
“You liar!” she said. She hadn’t noticed it in the darkness of the kitchen, or when he’d been pressed so close to her. But now she could see the raw, red mark and knew it had to be recent.
He noticed the direction of her gaze. “That old thing?” he said with his usual charming grin.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position to get a closer look. “When did this happen?” Her voice was softer now as she traced the edges of the wound. How much pain was he in?
He shrugged. “A few weeks ago.”
“Weeks? You said it was an old injury.”
“That is old in my time.”
“And you’re already back out on a job?”
“I’m a SEAL.” He said this as if it answered all her questions. Instead, it just created more.
He must have seen her confusion, because he answered. “Look, I am still perfectly capable of doing this.”
She licked her lips, thinking of what to say next, and his cock jumped. She looked down with a saucy grin. “I can see that.”
“I’m capable of that, too.” He kissed her then, silencing whatever questions might have come next. Sierra didn’t mind. She could always ask them tomorrow.
He tugged the dressing gown from he
r shoulders, letting it slide down her arms with a sensual whisper of satin. She raised her arms, and he broke the kiss to pull her tank top up over her head one-handed and throw it over his shoulder.
He paused for a moment, his gaze intent as he eyed her nakedness. There was something almost predatory in the way he watched her, carnal and possessive. It thrilled her, heating her blood, making her heart beat in an ancient rhythm of desire.
She lay back, stretching her arms above her head, presenting her body as a feast for him to devour. His eyes darkened further, his cock bobbing against her core.
“Your turn,” she told him, with an arch grin.
He teased her, tugging at the waistband of his shorts, exposing his hip bone and nothing else.
She pouted. “Do I have to say please?”
He chuckled. “Nah. Not since you’ve been so good.” With that, he pulled his shorts down and his cock sprang free. It was big, hard, and beautiful, just like the rest of him.
She crooked a finger, inviting him closer.
He shook his head. “Tempting. But, first… condom?”
“Top drawer,” she told him.
He got up, rummaged around until he found one, and ripped it open with his teeth. She shivered at the hint of savage desperation in the move.
“Allow me,” she said, holding out her hand. He gave her the opened packet, and knelt back over the bed above her. She gripped his cock, the solid weight in her hand sending a tug of longing to her core.
She rolled the condom on, pumping his cock a few times for good measure. His hips thrust into her hand in a reflexive action, and he growled low in his throat.
“Want to be in you,” he said through gritted teeth. But he didn’t pull away, his face a mask of intense pleasure.
Sierra considered testing him with a blowjob, but she, too, wanted to feel him deep inside her.
She released him, and his sigh was almost one of relief.
He moved over her, his arm taking all of his weight as he positioned himself over her. Sierra guided him to her entrance, and they groaned together as he slid in deep. She was so slick, so ready for him, that he glided in smoothly.
Guarding Sierra: (Soldiering On #2) Page 10
