When her lips touched his skin and her tongue dipped into his navel—
Sean gasped. Grabbed her. Flipped her over.
Rising above her, he tore off his shirt and quickly untied her halter top, then drew it down slowly, teasing her already-peaked nipples. He fanned the fever, swirling his tongue over one crest, humming a low laugh as she squirmed beneath him. His big hands grazed her thighs, driving the skirt higher and higher until his fingers found her panties. Slid beneath the silk.
Made her back arch. Made her moan.
Then his mouth replaced his fingers, and she cried out.
Desperation had her pleading. “Don’t go slow, Sean. Not now.”
His chuckle was low and throaty. “The clawfoot tub might not work its magic next time. I’m not wasting this one.” His words were a tease, but his voice was rough. His eyes dark as pitch.
She laughed softly. “If I promise?”
He was doing unspeakably carnal things to her flesh, so many sensations at once that her brain gave up trying to sort them out. Pleasure rolled through her in swells, dragging her into the undertow where she couldn’t think, couldn’t see….
All she could do was fly. Shatter.
“Sean…” she sighed sometime later, pliant as candle wax.
“I’m here.” He rose to her, kissed her again. She tasted herself on his lips. Then his big, warm body was covering her, shielding her…
But she felt the tension in his body, the steely, wire-tight draw of a man on the edge of a savage hunger.
She lifted slumberous eyelids to meet his gaze, hot as the fires of hell and dancing on the edge of control. “I want you.”
His smile was strained. “In a minute. Hold on, honey.” It was all she could do not to shriek in protest as he rose from her and leaned across to fish in a drawer for protection, but she was grateful for his care. The shift proved just enough to bring her back from that bliss-filled languor of repletion, to recover her wits the tiniest bit. As he returned to her, she smiled, slow and wicked. “Oh, please…let me.” She took the condom from his hand and nudged him onto his back. Then she bent to him and proceeded to apply it with her mouth.
“Sweet mother of—” His swift intake of air was quickly drowned by a groan as she cupped the family jewels in her hand and slicked around them with her tongue.
“Okay, that’s it.” In one quick blur of strength, he had her on her back again. He thrust inside in one powerful stroke.
She sighed. He groaned.
They both smiled, a smile Annabelle felt to her toes.
“Hold on, sugar. This ride is gonna be intense,” he warned. And made good on his word.
It was all heat and speed and need after that, but no matter how Annabelle tried every wile she’d ever learned to make him break, Sean would not let go first. Her second climax took her by storm, one minute dancing just beyond her reach, the next sweeping over her like a fireball.
Barely, only barely, he waited until she started up the next peak, hovering on the edge of a scream—
Then, at long last, he cut the reins of his control and followed her, pitching her back over the edge one more heart-stopping, soul-restoring, unbelievably beautiful time.
“I can’t feel my fingers,” he murmured into her breasts, where his head lay pillowed.
She picked up his hand and sucked the index finger into her mouth.
“Okay, that’s one. One finger is enough for most activities, right?”
Her abdomen bounced with her chuckle. She exchanged that finger for the next one.
“Two. Even better.” He didn’t know why he kept up a patter at a time like this.
Except he did. He’d just had the most astonishing orgasm of his life, and oh hell yeah, every straight guy on earth would like to trade places with him. Of course they would. She was not only phenomenal to look at, but making love with her was off the chain.
But that wasn’t his problem. That wasn’t what had his brain running around like shell-shocked hamsters, had him feeling the urge to leap up—assuming he could actually move—and run as far and fast as he could away from her.
Oh, no. What had him spooked, had him core-deep afraid, was something different altogether.
He’d been with Annabelle the movie star, yes, but he could deal with who she was to the world by ignoring it. That was manageable as long as she was here in Austin, hiding out where almost no one knew where to find her. Where she could be herself.
But herself…that woman was the real problem, the Annabelle who was a Southern girl, a funny, bright and normal woman, country-born and raised. A woman a man could imagine in his home, his bed. Rocking his babies. Nestling in his arms, content and happy spending her life with him.
That Annabelle he already liked far too much. Was way too attracted to what was inside her, the gutsy, tart-tongued creature he’d swum with, run with, teased and played with.
But even if he didn’t feel like crap having to lie both to her and to his friends about why he was with her…even if he didn’t have to keep deceiving her for God knows how much longer because it was his job and people were dying out there…
If she ever found out why they’d come together in the first place, any chance they might have for a future might vanish. He could not stand the thought of hurting this remarkable woman he—
Oh, no. Hell, no. I can’t love her. No way he would let himself.
That Annabelle, the one he truly wanted, might only come out when she was away from her real life. And how often would that happen? Already she was making noises about going back.
Talk about opening Pandora’s box…
You just couldn’t let it be, could you? Couldn’t step back, keep your distance, keep your hands to yourself, however much hers were on you. Oh, no—and now look what you’ve done.
You deserve the pain headed your way, sucker.
Just then he noticed that her body had gone tense beneath his, probably in response to his own unease. If he rose from the bed now, what would she see on his face?
He might be one hell of a professional liar, but he wasn’t good enough to hide what was surely written all over his features.
“Sean?” Her fingers tightened on his hand, her voice uncertain.
Do right by her. She’s the innocent in all this.
He pressed a kiss between her breasts to buy himself time. “Hm?”
Then her stomach growled, and he seized the distraction. He could feed her, that’s what he could do next. While he was figuring his way out of this mess he’d made.
“You lucked out. If I hadn’t needed to buy coffee and toilet paper, there would only be frozen pizza in this house. But I bought a few other things while I was out.”
“What, chips and beer?”
When she smiled, he wanted to open his mouth and confess everything. But what good would that do? He might feel better, but she’d feel one hell of a lot worse.
And there were lives at stake.
Pretending a light heart took all he had. “I’ll have you know I went to Whole Foods. Even got you hummus and—” He gave an elaborate shudder “—quiche. I’m telling you right now, though, you have to take any leftovers back with you. No way am I letting anybody find it in my refrigerator later.”
A cloud drifted through her gaze. “Because, of course, there will be a later, won’t there? Only not for us.”
Sean blinked. Did that mean she would mind? “Are you leaving already?”
“I should. I ought to get back. I have scripts piling up, and I have to start rehearsals next month, but…” Her conflict showed.
That would be best for both of them. Only pain lay down this road. Oh, Doc. Free me from this. She doesn’t know anything about Lowe’s crimes.
Once again, he resorted to humor to disguise his misery over his role. “On second thought, the quiche stays here, and you can’t leave until it’s all gone.”
A tiny smile pushed some of the clouds away. “I’d like that.”
�
��I should have bought a bigger one. Even though my manhood would definitely be compromised.”
She twirled a lock of his hair. “Your manhood seems quite healthy to me.” A challenging arch of her eyebrows.
“I thought you were hungry.”
“I am.” She wiggled out from beneath him. Shoved at his shoulder and rose over him, then nipped lightly at his throat. “Ravenous.”
“Well, I can’t let a guest starve.” He crushed her to him, buried his face in her hair to hide the bleak look in his eyes.
Then he forced all that despair away and rolled her again, determined to apologize to her in the only way he could right now. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” He bent to his task with every weapon at his disposal as regret pummeled him. She would hate him in the end, and he would take the punishment, which he would deserve…along with the loneliness he could see headed his way. Because life would never be the same once she was gone.
Whatever has to happen to me, so be it.
Just please…let her be okay.
Annabelle sat cross-legged on his kitchen counter, clad only in Sean’s shirt while he ranged the kitchen in a pair of jeans and nothing else. “Why did you finish the kitchen first?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know…I guess because most guys wouldn’t.”
“Most guys don’t have my mom.”
“Don’t tell me. She made you do it. You poor thing.” She snorted. “Not. I bet your mother is sweet and kind and worships the ground you walk on.”
“Well, of course she does. Who wouldn’t?” He paused a beat. “That doesn’t mean she won’t kick my ass from here to Dallas if she thinks I need it.”
“Does that happen often? How tall is she?”
“It’s not the size you bring to the fight, Hollywood. It’s the size of the fight you bring.”
She grinned. “I wish I could meet her.”
His brows rose nearly to his hairline. “Now that’s just scary. Next thing I know, you two would be swapping stories. Can’t have that.”
“Because I’d find out you’re stretching the truth just a tad?”
He looked away, then back. “She’d like you.” All mirth had fled his voice.
“I bet I’d like her, too.”
He looked so sad then, and she felt it, too, the distance between this little fantasy island they were on and the reality each of them lived in. The tug on her heart at the thought of leaving him was nearly unbearable, but it was worse to see his light dimmed.
She seized on a distraction. “A pity someone with a kitchen this beautiful can’t cook.”
“You think I can’t cook?”
“Well…”
He snorted. “Sexist.”
“It’s not sexist if it’s true.” Then she reconsidered. “But now that I think about it, I never noticed any pizza boxes.” She cocked her head, trying to recall the bedroom floor, then had to shrug. “I have no idea if there was laundry on your floor. All I can remember is the bed.”
Their eyes met. Held. “Mmmm….” She licked her lips and smiled. “Guess I’ll have to go back and check.”
“If you get near my bed, we won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“I don’t think there’s much that scares you, Hollywood. I sure as hell don’t want to.” But he looked troubled.
He didn’t scare her…except with how much he could make her want him. “Come here.” She held out her arms.
He hesitated. Just as she was about to retract the invitation, he crossed the floor in two strides and wrapped her in an embrace she was terribly afraid she needed too much. She snuggled in, anyway, savoring the feel of safe harbor. Of course it was mostly illusion—not that he wasn’t a born protector. But this was a time out of mind, a flight of fancy, nothing more.
“Annabelle…”
“Hmm?”
“I wish…” He didn’t finish, only went very still for an endless moment.
Then he squeezed her so tightly she could barely breathe.
And stepped back. “I haven’t run today. I need to. Want to get your gear from Vanessa’s or would you rather just stay there?”
He was distancing himself, and she should be glad. She needed to regain some objectivity herself. “Maybe I should go back. You must have plenty else you need to do.” The seesaw was excruciating, the drop from sheer glory to near despair too fast. Too painful.
“I’m not asking you to go. I just…” He looked away, his brow furrowed. “I need to run.”
His outlook was always so positive that he made life seem effortless. She needed to remember that this situation might be difficult for him, too.
What was the fair thing to do, to stay or to go? What was best for him?
He tossed her a lifeline. “We could go have Mexican food after.”
Her relief was boundless. She didn’t have to say goodbye yet. “We’d better run twice as far, then. My trainer is definitely going to kill me.”
His expression lightened. “If you had a good bodyguard, he’d protect you.”
“My body’s never been cared for half so well.” She turned away before her heartache got the better of her. “I’ll get dressed.”
Mercifully, he stayed downstairs while she made her way up.
Sean waited until she was out of hearing, then punched in Doc’s number.
“Romero.”
He hesitated. He couldn’t ask to be relieved unless he wanted to explain why. Because his heart was getting involved wouldn’t be reason enough. He had a job to do. “I just have a second. Any news?”
“Lowe went to the warehouse in Houston.”
“And?”
“He was inside about two minutes, then hightailed it out. He’s on the road again and should be headed back. You need to stick close to her.”
“Why?”
“He left a body at the scene.”
“What? Whose?”
“His partner in the warehouse. Too soon to know for sure, but the coroner doesn’t think he did it. Neither does our tail. He came back out looking the same as he went in. No blood spatter, no weapon left at the scene and none on him, best the tail could see.”
“Gonna pick him up?”
“No. Don’t want to spook him into running. There’s too much we can’t put together yet, and he’s our best lead. Stay with her and see if he calls. Don’t let her out of your sight…or your hearing either.”
“Wish I could help back there.”
“I don’t. You’re with the best asset we’ve got right now. Hang tight.”
“I will.” He’d hang very tight now. Maybe Lowe wasn’t the killer, maybe he was—but the rats were turning on each other, and that’s when things could get really dangerous. He was damn glad he had an excuse to be with her. She needed to be as far away from Lowe as possible until this was over.
No way he was letting her get hurt.
All ambiguity fled. He would be allowed to tell her the truth as soon as they pinned down Lowe’s involvement in the latest killing. The news that her friend was a criminal would be painful for her, but he would be there for her until she had to return to L.A.. Until then, he was exactly where he needed to be. No one else would guard her as he would.
When he went back upstairs to change, he made sure his clutch piece came with him. When he rejoined her downstairs, he smiled without his earlier reservations. “Come on, Hollywood. Let’s stretch our legs.”
When she smiled at him, he bent and kissed her. “And pack a bag while you’re at the hotel. If you want to, that is.” If not, I’m wangling a way to stay with you.
“Oh, I want to.” She went through the door, then looked over her shoulder with a cheeky smile. “I mean, there’s all that quiche to work my way through.”
He laughed and followed her.
Chapter Twelve
“You have not read Jane Austen,” Annabelle spluttered into her margarita.
“I swe
ar to you I have.”
“Why? Never mind. Of course there must be a woman involved in the story.”
He looked indignant. “Maybe I just read it because I wanted to.”
“Um-hm…just like you’re going to take that quiche to work with you.” She studied him. “Recite me the first line of Pride and Prejudice.”
“Some junk about a rich guy needing a wife.” He crunched another tortilla chip.
She blinked. “Very badly put, but basically correct.” She narrowed her eyes. “But that’s one of the most famous lines in literature. You could have heard it somewhere.”
“You call that stuff literature? No, babe. I’m sorry, but literature is, like, ‘I hate rude behavior in a man. I won’t tolerate it.’”
“What on earth is that?”
He clapped one hand to his chest. “Oh man…now you’ve really got me worried. That’s from Lonesome Dove, honey. Larry McMurtry. A true classic.”
“It is, huh?”
“Please. Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you don’t read comic books.”
“Sure I do.”
“Don’t toy with me, sugar. What comic books?”
She’d read her brothers’ comic books a million years or so ago. What were they? “Um…Spiderman?”
He snorted. “Bush league. I’m talking serious comics, like Avengers or X-Men. Peter Parker’s for babies.”
“Well, excuse me. I bow to your superior taste.”
“Damn straight.”
She broke up laughing. “You are incorrigible.”
“So we’ve covered important literature.” He went on over her splutter, grinning. “What kind of music do you like? You’re a Tennessee girl, so country, right?”
“Riiiight. You don’t typecast much, do you?”
“Wait—so you’re saying you don’t honor your roots?”
“Boy, you play rough.” She was having a blast. “Okay, nothing wrong with country. Keith Urban rocks, and I adore Tim McGraw and Thomas Rhett, but I also love Coldplay and Dave Matthews. Is country your thing?”
He shook his head. “Heavy metal all the way. Metallica, Poison, AC/DC…hair bands rule.”
Texas Bodyguard Page 14
