by Tia Louise
One to Protect
By Tia Louise
WARNING: Mature themes, strong language, and sexual content. Recommended for adult readers (18+) only!
One scar.
One betrayal.
No escape.
When Sloan Reynolds beats criminal charges, Melissa Jones stops believing her wealthy, connected ex-husband will ever pay for what he did to her.
Derek Alexander can’t accept that—a tiny silver scar won't let him forget, and as a leader in the security business, he is determined to get the man who hurt his fiancée.
Then the body of a former call girl turns up dead. She’s the breakthrough Derek’s been waiting for, the link to Sloan’s sordid past he needs. But as usual, legal paths to justice have been covered up or erased.
Derek’s ready to do whatever it takes to protect his family when his partner Patrick Knight devises a plan that changes everything.
It’s a plan that involves coloring outside the lines and taking a walk on the dark side. It goes against everything on which Alexander-Knight, LLC, is based.
And it’s a plan Derek’s more than ready to follow.
(Standalone, M/F, HEA)
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
One to Protect
Copyright © Tia Louise, 2014
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Jasmine Green
Jasminegreen.net
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
To the protectors and the lovers.
To Mr. TL.
Most of all to the readers who wanted more.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: A Small Symbol
Chapter 2: Special Skills
Chapter 3: Backup Plan
Chapter 4: A Physical Reminder
Chapter 5: American Muscle
Chapter 6: First Priority
Chapter 7: Patrick’s Proposal
Chapter 8: No Ghosts
Chapter 9: Not the Good Guys
Chapter 10: All I See
Chapter 11: Opening Act
Chapter 12: Toothless Monsters
Chapter 13: To Slaughter a Pig
Chapter 14: What Needs to be Done
Epilogue: Patrick
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Exclusive Excerpt, One to Hold
Chapter 1: A Small Symbol
Melissa
A cold blast of air steals my breath as I dash through the concrete parking garage, and I remember why I chose my cozy beach cottage in Wilmington over life in the city—even over life in a town the size of Princeton.
The doorman guarding the entrance is another reason.
Hired staff knowing all my moves, my comings and goings, who I’m expecting… It’s a type of déjà vu that’s way too close to my old life in Sloan’s house, for comfort.
But Walter is nothing like Widlow or Hal, the housekeeper and driver who were basically paid spies in my ex-husband’s Baltimore mansion. Walt stands just inside the glass doors in his maroon uniform waiting, and I see the moment recognition crosses his face. Jumping to open the door quickly, he greets me with a warm smile.
“Miss Jones!” His gloved hand covers the handle of my overnight bag as his other arm sweeps away the grocery sack I’m carrying. “Mr. Alexander didn’t say you were coming. Let me help you.”
His gravelly voice and doting personality remind me of an elderly relative.
My voice is smooth and high in contrast. “Derek doesn’t know I’m coming. It’s a surprise.” I give his shoulder a squeeze, and a whiff of peppermint touches my nose. “I’ve asked you to call me Melissa.”
With a wink, he turns and leads me to the elevator, where he presses the button. I study his salt-and-pepper grays peeking out from under his cap, thinking how perfect he is at his job. “I won’t breathe a word about seeing you, then, and management would fire me on the spot if I called you by your first name.”
“Ridiculous.”
The doors open and he hesitates. “This is a pretty heavy load. Want me to call one of the boys to carry it up for you?”
“I carried it all the way to the front door by myself, no problem.”
My eyes are wide, and a chuckle scrapes from his throat. “He’s going to be so glad you’re here. You’re just what he needs.”
“I heard it’s been a tough week.” We’re holding up the elevator, but I’m curious if Nikki, Derek’s office manager, might have exaggerated the situation.
The building has less than twenty residents, most of whom work the same crazy hours as my fiancé, so I’m pretty certain we’re safe for a moment’s chat.
“I wouldn’t know, but I haven’t seen him smile since Sunday.”
“Thank God it’s Friday then?”
He grins and touches his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
The doors close, and I lean back against the shiny metal walls, thinking about what I know. Late yesterday afternoon, I got a text from Nikki saying if there was any chance I could get away, Mr. Alexander could use a friendly face. And a hug. Preferably using your thighs.
I laugh and roll my eyes. Nikki and I have grown close since my second visit to the Alexander-Knight offices. On my first, I only had one thing on my mind, and it wasn’t making friends. So much has changed since that day in November.
Now I get regular text updates from her, and her solution to most of her boss’s problems is sleeping with me. Frequently. She usually complains he’s impossible by the end of our weeks apart, but this time has been different. This time her message sounded worried instead of playful.
The elevator opens at the top floor of the complex, and I walk the short hall to his door. It’s almost like living in a hotel, but inside, the condos are huge—only four to a level. Unlocking Derek’s, I take a quick survey of the very male space. Leather couch, dark wood furnishings, enormous flat-screen television—make that gigantic flat-screen television. I think he said it’s 110 inches?
The kitchen is granite and stainless and untouched. The entire condo is spotless. A service comes once a week to clean and do laundry, and his suits are picked up and delivered by the dry cleaner. I smile and shake my head. He probably never even sees the people who take care of him. It’s all done by invisible elves as far as he’s concerned. He just pays the bills. It’s not a home—at least not the kind of loving home I plan to give him once we’re finally together in the same city.
Setting the brown bag on the counter, I place one item in the refrigerator, the other in the freezer. I carefully selected both to remind him of a happy night, a night that started in a family restroom. A tingle fills my stomach at that white-hot memory.
Back to the present, I head straight to the master suite. My overnight case is on the dresser, and I quickly remove the few outfits I’ve brought for the weekend and place them in the top drawer reserved for my things. Then I pull out my toiletries bag and hit the bathroom.
It’s only six, and he’s not expecting me. No telling when he’ll be here, but I want to freshen up after the eight-hour drive. It never gets shorter. We have got to get in the same location soon.
The bathroom is smooth beige stone on both the floors and countertops. The shower is matching tile, and is large and recessed like a cave, so there’s no need for a door. I shove off my jeans and step in, switching on the dual showerh
eads while carefully avoiding the blast.
Back out, I lift my long, dark waves up and twist them into a knot then unbutton my white blouse and slide it off my shoulders. His little gold, floating heart sits right at the base of my throat. It wasn’t an expensive gift, but when I touch it, my body floods with warmth remembering how he gave it to me. His heart…
Turning to the side in my matching red-lace bra and panties, my hands spread over my midsection. Still not showing, but my waist is definitely thicker as are my thighs. I’ve gone up a pant size, and I’m uncomfortable in everything I own besides loose dresses. This baby bump has got to pop out at some point so I can switch to maternity wear and stop looking like a marshmallow.
Underclothes off, I return to the shower-cave, moving under the spray with my head tilted back. It’s hot, but not unbearably so, and the massaging motion of the jets soothes all the stress of the long drive away. I wash my face, turn and scrub the scented gel I brought all over myself, taking it easy on my breasts, which are tender these days.
I stand and allow the lovely hot water to envelop me like a soothing blanket. It feels so good after being out in the frigid evening air. Several minutes pass, and I finally shut it off, step out, and catch the towel hanging on the hook.
Quickly rubbing it over my legs and up my stomach, I pause when I reach my face and clutch it to my nose. His fresh, woodsy scent is all over the soft terry, and I inhale deeply. My eyes close as a wave of desire sweeps from my head, past my sensitive nipples, to the growing heat between my thighs. We spent an amazing Valentine’s Day weekend together just five days ago, but I can’t wait to see him again. The weeks apart are so lonely, even with friends around.
His robe is hanging on the back of the door. It also smells like him, though he rarely wears it. I pull it around me, leaving the belt untied. It’s like an oversized dress on my small frame, and the scent combined with the silky fabric whispering across my private parts piques my longing for him even more.
Only one lamp lights the dim condo as I cross back to the kitchen for a bottle of water. The furniture is bare of any accessories or pictures—I’ve noted it before—but today something’s new. A single wooden frame has appeared on the mantle since my last visit. Picking it up, I recognize the shot of us sitting on the beach. He’s behind me, and my head is tilted to the side as he kisses the base of my neck. I love this picture. My best friend Elaine took it a few weeks ago, and I’d sent it to him. I hug the small symbol to my chest, thinking how his place is less the sterile fortress now. He has proof, a loving reminder of my place in his world.
Going to the enormous glass windows to look out and wait, only a few lights dot the downtown area. It’s either too early or too wintery for most people to be out. With the tip of my finger, I touch the cold glass and try to imagine where he is right now. How much longer he’ll work. When he’ll be here with me…
A noise from the doorway, and I look over my shoulder. My chest squeezes when I see him enter. His heavy grey overcoat makes him look even taller than six-two, his shoulders broader. His dark hair is longer than usual, and it just touches his collar in gentle waves.
Vibration hums under my skin as I watch him silently, my fingers curl with longing to touch him.
He shrugs off the topcoat and hooks it on the rack, and I almost sigh audibly when I recognize the suit he’s wearing. It’s the same one from all those months ago when I would gaze at him on my laptop screen. Back then I only had my memories and my hands. Now I have the real thing, and it’s perfect.
He doesn’t see me, doesn’t even know I’m here, and it takes all my strength not to call out to him. I’m waiting, wanting him to see me first. The entry light is on, and the stack of mail in his hand occupies his attention. His brow is lined, and even his shoulders appear tense. The combined effect reminds me of the very first night I saw him—so focused and controlled, so intense and intimidating. Giving in to him was so hot.
Touching my lips with my tongue, I long to peel that suit off him, leave it lying in a pile on the floor as I cover his skin with kisses, massaging his stress away. I remember the band holding up my hair and quickly pull it out. Long, dark waves sweep over my shoulders at the exact moment he looks up. Blue eyes meet mine, and my stomach tightens.
My arm drops, parting the robe, revealing a peek at my nude body underneath, and his confusion turns instantly to desire. Without a word, he tosses the mail on the table and shrugs out of his suit coat. He crosses the dining area fast. I can barely breathe as he gets closer, removing more clothing with each step. Tie off, fingers unfastening buttons, he’s in front of me, shirt open, undershirt the only thing between his skin and mine.
Neither of us speaks. It’s very possible I’ll come the moment we touch, but I snatch the edge of the thin white tank and push it up his lined torso. Pressing my lips against his heated flesh, I slip my tongue out to taste him. Large hands go inside the robe to my bare skin, sliding down and gripping my ass.
A little gasp comes from my throat when he lifts me. I’m off my feet, weightless in his arms. My back is against the cold glass, and his light sprinkling of chest hair teases my nipples.
His mouth roughly covers mine, consuming the noises rising in my throat, and his waist is between my thighs, pressing my most sensitive areas. Firm lips part mine, and his tongue explores my mouth. His kisses are insistent and ravenous, and every time his hips push against my clit, flames of desire shimmer down my legs.
Gripping his broad shoulders, my fingers dig into his flesh pulling him closer as his mouth blazes a trail to my breasts. Soft lips followed by the scruff of his beard teases my skin, and I can’t help a moan as my head drops back against the window.
“Oh, god,” I gasp as he catches a straining nipple in his mouth and gives it a hard pull. The sensation registers directly to my core. I need him inside me now.
My hands are in his hair, pulling, threading the soft, dark locks, as his kisses climb back up my neck. He pulls little bits of my skin between his teeth as he goes, and his scent is all around me, intoxicating me.
“Now, baby. I need you now.” I can’t take much more of this or I’ll combust. My thighs are already trembling, my inner muscles aching.
I feel him reposition, holding me with one arm as his other works below his waist. Breathless, I fumble to push his shirt further off his shoulders, wishing it would tear. I kiss his skin again; a hint of salt is on my tongue. In one movement, he boosts me up then sinks deep inside.
He lets out a deep groan, and I gasp. The size of him, his incredible fullness stretching me, is always a delicious greeting after being apart. I’m riding on that delicious edge, and by his next, hard thrust my orgasm roars through me.
“Ohh, god,” I cry, gripping his shoulders, rocking my hips as best as I can against him.
His breathing is labored. Another thrust, and I’m pulling him closer, unable to get enough. My cries seem to make him move faster, and I clutch his shoulders as he rocks me.
“Deeper,” I beg against his neck, my lips just touching his skin. He shudders and grants my request, and a second orgasm begins, hot and low in my stomach.
Powerful waves ripple up my body, and my muscles tighten. It’s like electricity, flashing all the way to my scalp, leaving me momentarily blinded. Inside, I’m gripping and pulling him, until with a loud groan, he comes.
His hips jam into me hard, pushing me against the glass, and his hands tighten on my ass, pulling me flush against him. It’s a mild pain mixed with the most incredible pleasure, and I never want it to stop.
We push and hold, grind and feel, until gradually our bodies calm, our movements become still. Spent, I drop my forehead against his neck, holding him through the last sparkling waves of pleasure. He’s inside me, one arm tight around my waist, the other under my butt. Warm lips touch my head, and I’m in heaven.
As if waking from a dream, I lift my eyes, sliding my hands to his cheeks. At the sight of blue, love bursts inside me. Sometimes it’s
still hard for me to believe this beautiful man is mine.
“Hi.” My voice is soft.
Fine lines pierce his temples in the most attractive way as he smiles back. “You’re here.” His deep voice massages my insides, and I can’t resist kissing those cheeks, his eyes, the tip of his nose, his full lips. They part, and our tongues greet each other again.
Movement stirs below, inside me, and I lean back to meet his loving gaze. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”
“If I’d known you were waiting, I’d have left two hours ago.”
I laugh, kissing him and whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you more.” His arms tighten around me. “What made you decide to drive in? Not that I’m complaining.”
“I heard you might need a visit.”
His brow creases as he considers my meaning. “Patrick?”
Shaking my head, I peck his cheek again. “Nikki.”
With that he exhales, dropping his forehead against my shoulder with a groan-laugh.
“What?” I laugh, too, at his exaggerated frustration. “She’s not as bad as you make her out to be.”
