by Tara Wyatt
“Sure thing, boss.” He nodded, his Glock still in his hands.
“And let’s wait and see what shakes out, if Jack decides to press charges or not. If he does, I’ll deal with it, but in the meantime, let’s keep this between us.”
“No problem. For what it’s worth, that was a hell of a right cross.” Carter headed toward the side of the house, making sure there were no other surprises waiting for them.
Sierra threaded her fingers through Sean’s left hand and led him into the house. Adrenaline still coursed through him, and he could feel each pump of his heart, a steady rhythm pounding inside him.
The adrenaline was from punching Jack in his arrogant, smug face. Not from Sierra’s tiny hand nestled in his. Not from the almost overwhelming sense of protectiveness he felt toward her. He felt a warm tug low in his gut at the way she smiled at him as she unlocked the front door.
“I shouldn’t have punched him,” he murmured, following her into the house. She tapped her code into the alarm and flicked on the lights. Sean’s eyes scanned the hallway and the living room, looking for anything out of place.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, and it was as if someone were tightening a vise around his ribs, his lungs. Around his heart. “I don’t know what this says about me, but…it was kinda hot. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”
A plummeting feeling bottomed out in his stomach, as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, trying desperately not to fall off the edge. He trailed behind her into the house, watching her small figure as she led him into the kitchen, her fingers still twined with his. The pulsing throb in his knuckles kept tempo with his thudding heart, and his blood hummed through his veins.
“I don’t have an ice pack, but…” Her small, round ass stuck up in the air as she rummaged through the bottom freezer. Clutching a bag of frozen peas, she sprang back up. “Green Giant to the rescue.” She hopped up on the island. “Come here.”
He arched an eyebrow as he walked slowly toward her. “I can do it myself.”
“Would you come here? I’m trying to say thank you.”
The pressing need to wrap his arms around her vibrated through him. The vibrations turned into a warm tingle as she took his bruised hand in hers, holding the bag of peas over his tender knuckles. She turned her face up to his, her green eyes sparkling.
God, she smelled good. Like sunshine, warm and bright and life-giving.
He inched his body closer to the island, his hips bumping the edge. The insides of her bare legs grazed his legs as the skirt of her dress rode up.
“Thank you for sticking up for me. And for keeping me safe.” She bit her lip and looked up at him through her lashes. His heart squeezed as he looked down at her, their faces only inches apart. Goddamn, she was beautiful.
“I meant it when I said that I’ve got you.” With his free hand, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, tracing his thumb over her cheekbone. His eyes drifted down to her lips, and he couldn’t fight it anymore. Clearly he was hell-bent on destruction tonight. He’d punched a state senator, and now, for the first time in his ten years as a bodyguard, he was going to kiss a client.
Cupping her cheek with his uninjured hand, he slowly dipped his head and gently, tenderly closed his mouth over hers. She responded immediately, returning the kiss with a soft sigh.
The peas slid to the floor with a crunchy plop and he slid his right arm around her, pulling her closer, growling quietly. She wrapped her arms around him as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. Finally he was touching her and tasting her just the way he’d wanted since the day they met. Finally she had her arms around him and was moaning softly into his mouth. Finally, and it was a thousand times better than he ever could’ve imagined. And he’d spent a lot of time imagining it.
He explored her mouth, savoring the sweetness of it as heat curled through his veins. His tongue caressed hers, and she gripped him tighter.
It was the best wrong thing he’d ever done.
Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in her neck, trailing his lips over her warm, soft skin, kissing and tasting, breathing her in. He sank his teeth gently into the curve where neck and shoulder met, nipping at her skin. She tipped her head back.
“Oh, God, Sean.” Her words came out on a loud moan, breathless and hot.
Oh, hell yes.
She wrapped her legs around him, pressing herself against the erection straining against his uniform, and he rocked into her, the friction sending hot pulses through him. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, and as his lips pressed hungrily against hers, he felt as though liquid fire were slowly spreading through him. He rocked his hips against her again as the kiss became rougher, more urgent. His low moans tangled with hers, and their mouths melded together. She fisted her hands in the fabric of his jersey and yanked it free of his pants. Her hands slid up under his jersey, tracing the ridges of his abs as she softly bit his lower lip and then traced her tongue over it. He groaned as he caressed a hand up her thigh, pushing her skirt up as he went, wondering if she could feel his hands trembling with how much he wanted her. With how good she felt. How good she was making him feel.
He’d never had this kind of sexual chemistry with anyone. Ever. Kissing Sierra, he felt as though he were about to explode out of his skin with how badly he needed to be inside her. How badly he wanted to discover all the different ways he could make her come. With his hands, his mouth, his cock buried deep inside her.
She broke the kiss, her lips swollen, her eyes hooded and dark. “Your mouth feels so good.” She brushed her lips across his jaw as she spoke, working her way up to his ear. “I want to feel it everywhere.” She rocked her hips against him and shuddered slightly, her voice raw, coming out as a whispered half sob. “I want you so much.”
He dipped his head, catching her mouth again, his nose brushing hers. “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”
“I’m yours.”
He had no words for the wave of possession crashing over him, so he kissed her again, slowly and hungrily, sliding a hand up her rib cage until he covered one small breast with his hand. He caressed in a slow, gentle circle, and she arched into him, her hips twitching as she whimpered against his mouth. Her nipple was a hard little bud against his palm, and he trailed his fingers across the top and down the side of her breast, memorizing the contours.
The front door opened, and they jerked apart.
Jesus Christ, he’d completely forgotten about Carter. She leaped down off the island, straightening her disheveled clothes as he quickly tucked his jersey back in, fighting to get himself together, adjusting the monster erection pressing against his tight baseball pants.
Damn baseball pants. They hid nothing. He circled around behind the island, knowing he’d have to stay hidden from the waist down until things were calmer south of the border.
She pressed a hand to her pink cheek, bending down and scooping up the bag of frozen peas from the floor. She straightened and quickly tossed it to him. Still breathing heavily, he caught it and pressed it to his groin, trying to get control of himself.
A surprised laugh burst from Sierra, her face bright. “For your hand,” she whispered, gesturing frantically at his bruised knuckles.
Oh, right. He’d forgotten about that too. With a sheepish grin, he transferred the bag to his knuckles, trying to ignore the trickle of fear at just how easily and quickly he’d gotten distracted. She yanked open the fridge and stuck her head inside for several seconds.
At least he wasn’t the only one who needed cooling off.
She emerged with a bottle of water just as Carter appeared. Sean hoped like hell he hadn’t seen them kissing. Hell, they’d done more than kiss. They’d crossed second base and would’ve been well on their way to third if Carter hadn’t come in. If he was going to violate his professional ethics, he’d rather his team didn’t see him do it.
“Everything OK?” asked Sean, hoping he sounded a lot more relaxed
than he felt.
Carter glanced from Sean to Sierra, who was guzzling her water as if she’d just hiked through the desert. “Everything’s fine. How’s the hand?”
“I’ll live.”
Carter’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He answered and listened intently for a few moments. “I’ll put you on speaker.” He tapped the screen and laid the phone on the island. “It’s Clay.”
“Hey, Sean, I’ve been trying to call you. Everything good?”
“Yeah. My phone’s in the car. What’s up?”
“I think I found something. Can you come to the office?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. I’m already here.”
Sean pushed a hand through his hair, glancing at Sierra. He’d been so determined not to touch her until he knew she was safe, but with one kiss, that resolve had flown out the window. She was his to protect, and soon she’d be his. But not tonight.
Chapter 16
Sean pushed open the doors to Virtus’s offices, slipping his key card into the back pocket of his jeans. Only one bank of overhead lights was on, leaving the corners in shadow. The row of offices was dark, giving the space an eerily empty feel. Clay sat at one of the computers at the table in the center, paging through what looked like surveillance photos and geotagging them as he went. As Sean approached, Clay stood, looking even scruffier than usual with his shaggy mane of dark-blond hair and at least a week’s worth of stubble on his jaw.
“You find something?”
“You could say that. Not related to your case, though. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Carter or your client.” He tipped his head toward the back office, and tension radiated across Sean’s shoulders.
“Shit.”
“I’m heading out and didn’t want to leave him on his own.”
“Thanks.” Sean clapped Clay on the shoulder as he walked by him, making his way to his father’s office. He pushed open the glass door, and the smell of scotch hit him like a punch in the gut. His father sat behind his desk, a tumbler clutched in one hand. A bottle of Glenfiddich sat on the desk beside him, glowing green in the light from the computer screen. He didn’t look up as Sean entered and sank down into one of the leather chairs facing his desk.
“What the hell are you doing here?” his dad asked, the words slightly slurred. He dragged a hand through his hair and took a healthy swallow of scotch.
“Thought you might want a drinking buddy.”
Patrick studied him for a second before nodding gruffly and pulling a second tumbler out from a drawer. He poured a small amount of the amber liquid into the glass and passed it to Sean, who took it and sat back in the chair, one ankle propped on the opposite knee.
For several moments they drank in silence. The scotch burned a path down the center of Sean’s chest. He hated this. Hated seeing this man struggle so much with a pain that was entirely Sean’s fault.
He took another sip, trying to burn away the guilt.
“Today would’ve been our fortieth anniversary.” Patrick’s voice was loud in the quiet office, the only other sound the whir of the computer.
Shit. Sean rubbed a hand over his mouth and set down his tumbler, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his thighs. “I’m sorry.”
His father nodded again and splashed more scotch into his own glass. He’d heard Sean say those two words so many times over the past ten years that they’d probably lost all meaning. But it didn’t matter. Sean would keep saying them. It was his fault his mother was gone. His fault his father drank.
Patrick leaned back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes. “She was so beautiful. So smart. So loving. I never quite felt that I deserved her. Maybe I didn’t. I didn’t get to keep her for nearly long enough.”
Sean bowed his head, listening, knowing there was nothing he could say.
“She had the best laugh. And she never took any shit from anyone. I always loved that about her. She was so strong. But that strength didn’t harden her. It just made her better.”
“I miss her too.”
Patrick leveled his gaze at Sean and let out a short, sharp breath. “You’re sorry, and you miss her. What fucking good does that do me?”
Sean clenched his jaw, having known it was coming and refusing to get drawn into a pointless argument. “Let me drive you home.” He stood and pulled his keys from his pocket.
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Dad.” Sean crossed his arms. “Please.”
His father just stared at him, his eyes burning holes right through him. “Leave me alone.”
“I want to make sure you get home OK.”
Patrick set his glass down with a loud clack, scotch sloshing over the side and onto his desk. “Just go.” His nostrils flared when Sean didn’t move. “Go! Get out!”
* * *
The next day Sierra sat in her master bathroom, mentally going over her talking points as her hair stylist and makeup artist fluttered around her. She would’ve loved a trip out to a salon or a spa to get ready for the gala, but with all the security precautions, it had just been easier to have them come to the house. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, her makeup almost done, her hair up in jumbo Velcro rollers. She wore a black satin robe and slippers, her gorgeous blush-pink gown of silk crepe and tulle hanging on the back of the door.
“Taylor, what time is it?” she called into her bedroom, looking up at the ceiling as the makeup artist lined her eyes.
“Almost six.” Taylor lounged on Sierra’s bed, flipping through a magazine. She’d come over earlier to help Sierra relax. They’d swum and eaten, and now Taylor was keeping her company as she got ready. “Hang on, your phone’s ringing.” Sierra heard her answer it, and then Taylor appeared in the bathroom, phone in hand. “It’s Rory.”
Sierra’s heart sank, because she knew exactly why he was calling. She tapped the screen to put the call on speaker and laid the phone in her lap. “Hey, Rory. You’re not going to make it, are you?” He’d texted her earlier saying that he’d gotten stuck on set and wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it.
“I’m so sorry, babe, but I have to bail. We’re still shooting.”
“It’s OK. It happens.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She tried very hard not to sound as if she was pouting.
“I really wanted to be there with you.”
“I know you did. It’s OK. I’ll manage on my own.”
“You’re gonna knock ’em dead. You’ve got this. OK?”
“Thanks, Rory. How’s the shoot going?” She chatted with him for a few more minutes as the hair stylist began taking out the Velcro rollers, leaving big, loose waves cascading down over her shoulders. She gave him a thumbs-up in the mirror.
Sometimes, in moments like this, she missed the fun, glamorous parts of Hollywood. Just a little. She still needed to make a decision about the audition, but she was leaning more toward doing it and seeing what came of it than not. Maybe she did miss acting a bit. It was never something she’d chosen for herself, as she’d started so young, but now that she was away from it, she found she sometimes missed having that creative outlet.
She hung up with Rory and passed her phone back to Taylor, who stood in the bathroom’s doorway, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb. “He’s not coming?”
“He’s stuck working. I’ll be flying solo tonight.”
Taylor paused, and Sierra could see the wheels turning. “Where’s Sean?”
Sierra’s heart did a little happy dance just at the mention of his name. “He had meetings and stuff all day, and he had something with another client tonight. He said he was going to try to get out of it, but he didn’t think it was likely.” They hadn’t had a chance to talk about the kiss and what it meant. How things had changed between them with that kiss. At least things had changed for her. But he’d come back late last night, and she’d already been in bed. They hadn’t found themselves alon
e at all this morning before he left, and he’d been gone all day.
“So he wasn’t planning on going to the gala with you?”
“No. Zack and Ian. He wanted to be there, but it didn’t work out. He was pissed about it.” She’d overheard him on the phone, arguing with his father about it. She couldn’t imagine how tough that had to be sometimes, having his dad as his boss. Especially given that Patrick had retired, and Sean was supposed to be in charge.
The hair stylist gave her hair a final spritz, and the makeup artist slicked on a coat of lip gloss before stepping back to admire her work.
“How come when I do the exact same stuff, I do not look like this?” Sierra smiled, checking herself out in the mirror, her hair falling in soft, loose waves around her face, her makeup flawlessly pretty. Polished and professional with a hint of sexy. The hairdresser and makeup artist started packing up their stuff, and Sierra stepped back into the bedroom, where Taylor helped her into the dress. The silk crepe bodice was delicately sequined and formfitting, with a slender cream-colored beaded silk belt separating it from the flowing tulle skirt.
She turned to check herself out in the mirror again, the skirt swirling around her ankles.
“Wow.” Sean’s voice came from the doorway, and she spun, her heart fluttering helplessly in her chest. He stood there in a white T-shirt and worn jeans, looking better than any man had the right to look. His eyes dipped up and down her body, a slow, appreciative smile curving his lips up.
“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. I thought you had another job.”
“I did. I shuffled some stuff around, and I was going to see if Zack could trade off with me.”
“Or you could go as her date,” said Taylor matter-of-factly, as though it were the simplest, easiest thing in the world.
Sean raised one eyebrow. “Where’s Rory?”
“Working. He can’t come, so I’m minus one. It’s not a big deal. Besides,” Sierra said, giving Taylor her best “behave” glare over her shoulder, “it’s black tie, so unless you’ve got a tuxedo with you, I—”
