Guarding Miranda

by Amanda M. Holt

  It felt holy, sacred to her – she who held no religion close to her heart...

  She lifted her hips to his, meeting his need stroke for stroke, as the flames of the ring of fire in her body raged as a firestorm, burning out of control, engulfing her, lifting her toward the sky until finally, she found release, the release that he had given her so many times before, only this time, with the entirety of her soul.

  She cried out his name and heard it as though from a distance as slowly, her spasming flesh quivered and went still and the reality of his love making returned to her. The downward spiral back to this reality was slower than the ascent and saccharine sweet...

  Brian was not finished, not yet.

  True to his promise, the night was not going to be over in a whim. His steady rhythm brought her back down from the heights she had found with release, only that she would be caught up in the tempo again, each thrust an expression of loving, of rapture.

  Just as she was again about to burst into flame, a hushed warning fell from his lips, “I can’t hold back any longer.”

  “Bring it all to me.” She crooned into the ear near her head. “I want to feel you come with me.”

  And so together, they ascended and together they cried out in united satisfaction of a hunger finally sated.

  In a matter of minutes after their descent into afterglow, feeling a safety and security she had never before known, Miranda fell asleep in Brian’s arms into a deep and peaceful rest...

  Chapter Ten:

  Miranda woke alone Friday morning, just after ten o’clock, the dream of her and Brian’s coupling still fresh on her mind.

  As she came to complete awareness, she realized that it had not been just a dream: his scent was upon her, the very smell of their passion lingering so organically in this room and here she was, naked between the sheets.

  She who slept most comfortably in panties and a nightie.

  Collecting her robe from the floor, she donned it and ventured downstairs, where she found Brian sipping coffee, nonchalantly flipping through one of the coffee table books.

  He spotted her coming down the stairs and smiled.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sincere warmth of his smile and disarmed of all hesitancy, she found herself smiling back.

  “G’morning, love. Sweet dreams?”

  “For the first time in weeks,” she admitted, plodding off to the bathroom.

  She stole a glance at her reflection: her hair was in tangles about her head, still messed from the passion with which they had consummated their shared attraction.

  Her eyes brightened at the memory of that last powerful orgasm and the faintest bit of color crept over her cheeks as she relived the moment in the forefront of her mind.

  She used the toilet, relieving herself even though she knew that he would hear.

  When she came out, a small frown played on her lips. “Uhm, Brian?”

  “Yes, Miranda?”

  “About last night-”

  “Wonderful, wasn’t it?” Brian knew fully well what was coming.

  He had anticipated it during his session of push-ups, squats and lunges.

  “It was a mistake, Brian.”

  “A mistake?” He arched a bushy eyebrow in mock contemplation. His stormy grey eyes were lit by a touch of sullen humor as he continued, “Consenting adults don’t usually make errors where the identity of bed partners arises.”

  “I mean, we shouldn’t have...”

  “It was as good for you as it was for me – it put color in your ivory cheeks.”

  She sighed impatiently. “You know what I mean.”

  “Oh I see.”

  He was humoring her.

  Of course he knew what she meant.

  Women’s sensibilities being what they were and all.

  She was trying to come to terms with all that he had brought out in her. The wanton woman within. The woman with primal desires, itches that needed a right proper scratching.

  That flame inside of her, once ignited, was now spent and she wanted to forget the exhilaration of the burn.

  Yet, there would be scars…

  Brian knew how to rekindle that flame, knew that he would once the time was right.

  He was not through with her.

  Not yet.

  Nor she of him, he knew it.

  But he was willing to play this game, this game as old as time.

  For the sake of her humility, her dignity, her sense of self.

  “You want to forget that it ever happened.”

  “Precisely.” A long moment of silence passed between them. The faucet dripped and to her it was a woeful sound. Miranda fought back the lump of guilt that had lodged itself in her throat. “Look, I’m going to have a shower. Do you need the bathroom first? I might be in there a while?”

  He didn’t look up from his book. “I’ll use the one in the basement, if I need to.”

  Miranda wasn’t sure how Brian felt about their shared night of passion but she knew that it was one she was not going to forget any time soon.

  He was so hard to read...

  He had been more interested in the coffee table book – Birds of Manitoba – than he had been in anything she had said.

  Or at least, he had appeared uninterested.

  Had she dealt a harsh blow to his ego?

  It was as good for you as it was for me - put color in your ivory cheeks, he had said.

  And indeed, it had.

  The memory of his hands upon her alone was enough to bring that color back to her otherwise ivory cheeks.

  Her brilliant green eyes watched him intently for a long moment, wondering if she should say anything else...

  There were to be no more kisses, no more love play, no more touching – had she made that perfectly clear?

  It was a really amazing way to spend the night, she thought. Out of this world, in fact. But there can be no more of it...

  “Brian?” It would be better for her to clarify her end of the issue.

  Again, he did not look up from the book but flipped to a page that he studied intently. “I could have sworn you said something about a shower?”

  “Never mind,” she sighed, closing the bathroom door behind her.

  Obviously, he was respecting her wishes, conveniently forgetting all that had come to pass between them.

  Which was exactly what she wanted...

  Wasn’t it?

  She searched deep inside of herself for the honesty that lurked there, in her heart, body and mind and found a truth there that disturbed her.

  She ached to be held, as he had held her and loved, as he had loved her, if only for as long as he had loved her during the night.

  Oh, what was she thinking!

  She plugged the Jacuzzi tub and turned both the hot and cold taps to full spray.

  The sooner she got his smell off of her, the better.

  The earthy, enigmatic scent of him that clung to her every pore was beginning to cloud her better judgment.

  Stripping off the robe, she let her fingers slide for a moment over the places he had loved her. They were still sensitive to the touch, aching either from exertion or longing, it was hard to tell.

  Her nipples hardened with only the slightest brush of her fingers, as she remembered the path that his hands and mouth, had taken there, only a few hours before.

  His words came back to haunt her.

  I’m going to love you slowly and for the rest of the night, until you’ve had your fill of me and I of you...

  Oh, how he had! He had given to her until she could take no more and taken of her until she’d had nothing left to give. A weak smile upon her lips, she lifted a coiled tendril of her long dark hair to her nose and inhaled the scent that had been left there, the aroma of their bodies, combined...

  An almost inaudible moan escaped her lips and she dropped the lock of hair.

  Yes, Miranda. Make your sweet little love noises. I want to hear them all...

  “You can’
t possess me this way,” she whispered in anger at the door. Behind that door, he was no doubt engrossed in study of some sparrow or chickadee.

  “You’ve no right!” She swore under her breath.

  Yet as she watched the steam rise from the tub, she remembered her own words, her plea for the comfort only he could give.

  Brian, help me forget him. Erase the memory of him from my body, my mind. Help me remember only you, only tonight.

  And now, here she was, telling Brian, her lover, her bodyguard, that she wanted to forget that the night had ever happened.

  What a hypocrite that made her!

  A hypocrite and a liar!

  She knew that she would never forget the union of their bodies, the merging of their flesh.

  Asking him to do what she herself could not was folly, pure and simple.

  She climbed into the tub, filled a third of the way now and warmer than she had expected. The water swirled to meet her, embracing her as an old friend would, lapping around her feet, her thighs, her most intimate curves and crevices, with all the fervor of a hungry lover.

  She looked deeper inside of herself, for the truth that she could not yet name and feared but also held most closely to her heart.

  In a frighteningly short span of time, Brian had come to mean a lot to her.

  A lot.

  With merely a look, he could enrage or enthrall her, make her an upset adversary or willing companion.

  He could make her laugh. Mostly the sarcastic kind of laughter ridiculing his overbearing but still, they shared in certain amusements.

  On the other end of the spectrum, he could make her angry.

  Very angry.

  He could be such a misogynist!

  Yet she knew that he could be so tender and loving and was adeptly skilled at satisfying a woman’s most primitive needs… With generosity and patience and absolute sincerity…

  What a walking contradiction he was!

  As bullheaded as he was agreeable, as arrogant as he was thoughtful, as ignorant as he was knowing.

  And sexy...

  Dear Lord, was he attractive.

  Maybe not a perfect ten, being the size that he was and just a hint of Neanderthal to him – but definitely an eight.

  Nine.

  If it wasn’t for the fact that he was so arrogant... so obnoxious!

  Nine and a half, maybe.

  The water soon washed over her stomach, her breasts, swallowing her with each inch of water, until Miranda was covered in soothing warmth.

  Reaching forward to shut of the taps, she depressed the button that would activate the Jacuzzi jets and settled back into a hydrotherapy massage.

  She closed her eyes, gingerly touched the scar in her shoulder, above her left breast and envisioned at once eyes of dark grey, as stormy as the ocean in the throes of a squall.

  “Miranda...” She tested her own name, with his accent, upon her tongue.

  It wasn’t as annoying as she had once believed.

  Miranda, oh sweet Miranda. What are we going to do about the intense attraction between us?

  And what had her answer been?

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Well nothing had certainly turned into something only a few hours later.

  The fantasies she hadn’t dared let herself imagine in the light of day had come true in the dark of night in such a plethora of sensations and wonders...

  “Absolutely nothing, indeed,” she supposed aloud, a wry smile on her lips.

  The tub around her vibrated with the hum of the Jacuzzi motor, causing her skin to tingle.

  She had tingled all over, after Brian’s intimate attentions.

  Tingled and quivered and...

  Was it healthy to dwell on something as addictive as good sex?

  As addictive as Brian?

  She realized that she was beyond caring whether it was right or wrong to want him...

  Brian was obviously as interested in her as she was in him.

  Why not see where the exciting, intense attraction might lead?

  There couldn’t be any harm in it, could there?

  It wasn’t like she had room in her heart for anyone else.

  Richard had done her irreparable harm.

  Richard.

  The bastard.

  She would no longer give him the satisfaction of her thoughts...

  Men, they were all the same.

  After one thing and one thing only.

  Her money.

  That or a piece of her ass.

  Ass, assets, either way, she was no longer going to be a victim.

  She would not let her heart get involved, no matter how attractive the suitor or playmate may be.

  Playmate.

  That’s how she would treat Brian.

  As a plaything.

  Wasn’t that how he regarded her?

  Any man that good looking would know that he was good looking and be biased as a result.

  Brian Logan, player.

  Well, he had certainly played her to get what he wanted.

  Brian Logan, plaything.

  It had a nice ring to it.

  But she had scruples.

  Was she going to be capable of something so …immoral? So scandalous?

  She supposed she would soon find out.

  Opening eyes that had been closed for countless minutes, Miranda rose from the tub, shut off the Jacuzzi’s motor and unplugged the drain.

  Closing the shower doors, she turned the shower on and lathered her hair with shampoo.

  A large dollop of soap slid down her back, making her shiver with the memory of how Brian’s hands had done the same to her, in the room upstairs.

  Rinsing all trace of soap from her body though seemingly not all traces of him, she shut the shower off and stepped out to briskly towel herself dry.

  In the act of wrapping her head with the towel to speed the drying of her hair she felt as though she were also putting her thoughts in order, setting her plan to stone.

  She donned the green silk robe and left the bathroom.

  Brian was at the stove, weighing a small white egg in one large bronzed hand.

  His steel grey eyes seemed troubled but his smile was friendly enough.

  “How do you like your eggs?” He asked.

  “Over easy,” she replied. “Making me breakfast again?”

  “Yup.”

  “So who died and made you Chef Boyardee?” she teased.

  “No one special... I just thought it was time I put some grub in that lovely stomach of yours.” Grey eyes resting for a moment on the swell of her breasts in the robe, he gestured at the barstool before the island kitchen. “Have a seat, love – I won’t bite.”

  “Not unless I want you to, right?”

  He seemed surprised by her flirtatious tone. “I imagine not.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Nah – the toast is already made. I hope you like dry rye. There wasn’t any butter ‘n we should remedy that with a trip to that grocery store.”

  “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  He cracked the first egg into the frying pan. “Miranda, there ain’t nothin’ I can’t do.”

  “Confidence becomes you,” she said, pulling the towel from her hair.

  “Was that a compliment?” He arched two surprised eyebrows as he cracked the second egg. For a long moment, the sizzling hiss of the eggs cooking was the only sound between them. “A real, genuine compliment?”

  “Why?” She asked finally, breaking the uneasy silence. “Are you shocked?”

  “Quite frankly, yes.” A third egg went into the pan. “I was beginning to think that you couldn’t tolerate the sight of me this morning. You rushed off to the shower first thing this morning.”

  Without company, he wanted to add but lacked the courage to speak that part of his mind.

  Confidence becomes you, she had said.

  That he found laughable.

  Around her, he
felt as awkward as a pimply-faced teenager at his first boy-girl dance. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it, when to do it. Ask her to dance, or wait for her to beckon?

  He tried not to let his frustration show in the breath that he had been holding.

  He loosed it slowly: “Three eggs good enough?”

  “Plenty.” A slight frown touched her lips as she considered her next words. “Brian, I was meaning to clear the air between us. What I said, about last night?”

  He set down his flipper a little harder than he intended, making her start.

  He found he couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “Don’t sweat it, love,” he said finally. “Happens to me all the time.”

  Happens to me all the time?

  All the time? She thought to herself bitterly. What does that mean, that he is a playboy or something?

  “I was wrong, Brian.” She tried again, wanting to clear the air between them but wondering now if there was any point to it.

  Again, he was surprised by her change of tone.

  “You were wrong?” He asked, his confusion sincere.

  “To ask you to forget about it. I don’t regret it. Any of it. I appreciate what you did for me.”

  “Regular public service, that,” he said, scathingly. “Pro bono, so remind me not to charge your Uncle the overnight rate.”

  “Touché, Brian.” Why did it hurt her so much, to hear him say that? “What I mean to say is thank you.”

  “Thank you?”

  “For making me feel human again. For being here. For everything.”

  For a long moment, he watched her, his slate grey eyes betraying nothing of his emotions.

  She felt that he could read her with the ease he had read Birds of Manitoba.

  A flicker of amusement danced through his eyes and was gone.

  After a long uneasy silence, a forgiving smile appeared on his lips.

  “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  “Canoeing?” Brian wasn’t sure he had heard her right. “You want to go canoeing?”

  “Yes.” Miranda replied, covering her legs with bug repellent, from the edge of her socks to the seam of her shorts. “Are you going to join me or does your bodyguard duty not apply to small co-manned watercraft?”