Guarding His Body

by A. C. Arthur

  She shifted again and felt a thick erection at her bottom. She eased farther back, enjoying the feeling. Between her own legs throbbed and she was ready to open up and allow that erection in. A hand clasped her left breast and she moaned. She was so ready.

  Her dream lover’s lips were on her shoulder and her neck and he whispered in her ear. “Sabrina, don’t forget that I’m only a man. If you keep rubbing against me like that I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

  Bree’s eyes shot open with a quickness. It was the right voice—the one of her dream lover—but he wasn’t saying the correct words, nor were they standing on a white-sand beach. Her body froze as she took in her surroundings, and memories of where she was and how she’d come to be there came flooding back.

  She rolled to her back only to look up into those sexy dark eyes that had invaded her most private thoughts. “Renny?” she gasped in a sleep-fogged voice.

  “You’d better not be waking up naked with anybody else,” Renny joked, then dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  Bree lifted the blanket, saw that she was in fact naked and groaned. What had she done? Her eyes flew back to his face while the question lodged in her throat.

  Renny recognized the fear instantly and his light mood shifted. What had he done to frighten her this time? “Last night was beautiful, wasn’t it, sweetheart?” He traced a finger along the line of her jaw waiting for all the memories to sink in. She probably assumed since she was naked and he was partially so that they’d gone all the way. But once her mind had a moment to clear its sleepiness and retrace their actions, she’d calm down. She’d fallen asleep so comfortably in his arms last night after they’d finished off the strawberries and champagne and talked about their childhoods. He’d held her all night thinking of how right she felt in his arms. As a matter of fact he’d just been thinking—before she’d rubbed her butt against his groin, disturbing his train of thought—that Sabrina seemed to fit into his life. That thought frightened him a bit, but not as much as it should have, not as much as it would have just a month or two ago.

  “We…we slept here?” she asked tentatively. She remembered his kisses last night, his touch, him asking her to trust him before…She wasn’t so much embarrassed as she was aroused by the memory. Still, this was new for her, she’d never had a morning after—even if it wasn’t technically after sex.

  His finger moved lazily over her shoulder. “Mmm-hmm, you said you didn’t feel like moving. I agreed.” He hadn’t been looking forward to returning to his own bed alone. His gaze grabbed hers and held it seriously. “Sabrina, last night was just for you. I’ve never done that with anyone else.”

  She blinked quickly, her brow rising without the question ever leaving her mouth.

  Renny sighed. “I told you how people create their own stories. I’ve dated plenty of women, but I can count on one hand how many I’ve been intimate with in any way.”

  He was Lorenzo Bennett, sexy billionaire with a great body and an even greater car. The reality of his words were ludicrous; still, she found herself believing him. “I, um…it—” she cleared her throat “—it was a first for me, as well.”

  “Good,” Renny whispered as he descended on her lips. “I don’t much like the thought of any other man knowing you that well.”

  The words sounded like ownership in her mind and she wanted to back away, but his lips touched hers and she lost the thought.

  Bleep, bleep, bleep.

  A chirping sound interrupted the kiss, and Renny looked around the room where they still lay on the floor. “What the hell is that?”

  Bleep, bleep, bleep.

  Bree squirmed from beneath him. “It’s my phone.” Completely forgetting she was naked, she threw the blanket aside and moved to the hall table where she’d thrown her jacket and searched the pockets for her cell phone. She really liked kissing Renny, so whoever was calling had better be important. She didn’t really look at the number before pressing the talk button, figuring it was early in the morning and was most likely Sam checking in. “Hello?”

  “You always were a morning person.”

  The voice stilled her heart and if it weren’t for the table behind her she would have fallen to the floor. “What? What do you want?” She wouldn’t have to look at the number now. It was the same one from yesterday. The one with the North Carolina area code.

  He was quiet and then said, “I miss you.”

  Bree closed her eyes, swallowed hard. Her head was spinning. This was not happening. She had been perfectly clear when she’d left North Carolina. Hell, the circumstances had all but dictated there be no other choice. Why was he calling her now? Why was he saying these things? “This is not good. You calling me is not good at all.”

  “Please, Sabrina, we really need to talk. So much has changed.”

  She shook her head, her eyes still closed. “Nothing has changed for me and I don’t want to talk anymore.” Her insides swished and swayed as all those memories came flooding back. The pain, the betrayal, the embarrassment. Her head started to throb, but she wouldn’t let it get the best of her. She opened her eyes, about to tell him never to call her again, when her voice caught. Renny was standing right in front of her, a questioning look on his face. Again, her surroundings had gotten away from her and she struggled to stand up straight. “Please don’t call me again.” She didn’t wait for a response, but clicked off the phone instantly. Renny’s eyes bore into her with a fierce glare that left her breathless.

  “Who was that?” Of its own accord, his jaw clenched even as he willed his hands to stay still at his side. At first he’d been caught up in the pleasant sight of her totally naked walking across his living room without a care in the world, as if it were the most natural thing to be naked in his company in his home. Then he’d watched her contentment flee as she spoke to the person on the phone.

  He’d instantly become alarmed and went to her. She’d closed her eyes as if whatever was being said was too painful for her to face. For a brief second he could swear he saw her tremble. And that was not acceptable.

  “Uh…just someone…a fellow soldier from the base.” She managed the words, but couldn’t help feeling the heat radiating from his closeness. It wasn’t the same heat she’d felt only moments ago; this was of anger, raw and real. The last thing she needed was Renny getting involved in her situation. He had enough to deal with on his own. Her military dilemma was just that, hers, and she would not inflict her mistakes on anyone else.

  “A female or male soldier?” He really didn’t have to ask, he’d known it was a man, most likely the man that made her leery of all other men.

  Bree licked her lips. “He’s a male. We didn’t part on the best of terms.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m really not into keeping in touch with people from my past. Anyway, I’d better get dressed and check in with Sam. Are you going to work this morning?” She remembered the piece he was working on and almost cursed herself for bringing the provocative memory into their conversation.

  She was so confused at this moment. Not only had she allowed Renny—well, almost begged him—to continue touching her last night, but now she had to figure out where that put their relationship in the light of day. And she’d awakened in his arms, content and almost looking forward to whatever was going on between them; then Harold had called.

  Renny caught her by the shoulders just as she was about to brush past him. “Tell me what he said to upset you.”

  His grip wasn’t tight, but she knew better than to try and break free of it. “It was nothing. Forget about it. I’m chilly.” She really wasn’t; his touch alone had warmed her right down to her toes.

  Renny frowned. He couldn’t make her tell him, but he could find out on his own. He figured that knowing the man that had hurt her would give him some insight as to how he could heal the wounds. Suddenly, healing Sabrina was very important to him. He moved his hands up and down her arms. “Sorry. You’re probably right. Go on and take your shower. I’ll fi
x us some coffee.”

  Bree managed a smile. “That sounds good.”

  Renny let her walk away, but as soon as he heard the bathroom door close and the water running he returned to the table where her cell phone sat. Picking it up, he summoned the call log and jotted down the number of the last call received. It wasn’t a Connecticut area code. Moving quickly to his office, he booted up his computer and continued to stare at the piece of paper he’d written the number on.

  After putting in the appropriate pass codes he went to the desired Web site and punched in another pass code. Technology was amazing. You could find out just about anything on anybody in the world by typing a few lines into the Internet. He typed in the telephone number and waited only a couple of seconds before a name and billing address came up.

  Colonel Harold T. Richmond, Raleigh, North Carolina.

  Her commanding officer? A private acquaintance? An old boyfriend?

  Questions roared through Renny’s mind as he heard the water shut off a few rooms away. She’d be back out shortly. Renny printed the information and exited the site. Turning the computer off, he folded the paper, reminding himself to make amends with Sam Desdune long enough to have him check this guy out.

  Bree nursed her cup of coffee, thinking about the call she’d received a while ago. She couldn’t believe Harold was calling her after all this time and after all that had happened. Before leaving North Carolina she’d told him she never wanted to see or speak to him again. That message had seemed plain and simple to her, but apparently Harold hadn’t gotten the translation. Well, she’d told him again. Now hopefully he’d listen.

  She wondered what Renny thought of her telephone conversation, knowing that he’d heard it since he was standing right in her face as she’d talked. He looked at her as if he were going to snatch the phone away from her ear at any moment. That’s why she’d hung up on Harold as fast as she did. The last thing she needed was to have to explain to Renny about Harold and what had happened in North Carolina.

  He’d let the subject drop, and when she’d emerged from her shower he hadn’t brought it up again. He simply sat her down with a cup of coffee and a bagel and went off to get dressed himself. In the shower she’d had time to contemplate what had happened between them last night. As magnificent as it was and as much as she longed for him to do it again and again and to even go further the next time, she knew it couldn’t be. She couldn’t sleep with Renny.

  They would never make it as a couple and she realized with Harold’s call that that’s what she wanted in her life. She wanted a man she could call her own, a man to share her thoughts and dreams with. And even though Renny wasn’t the proclaimed playboy, he wasn’t the settling-down type, either. He liked his privacy and his freedom too much for that. Besides, she’d never be able to stomach him working with Yolanda on a daily basis.

  Thoughts of Yolanda caused her to remember Renny’s art and the piece he had still unfinished in his studio. She left the kitchen and made sure she still heard the water from the shower running before making her way through the closed door. Flicking on the light, she looked to where she knew the piece sat. Moving slowly, Bree approached the figures, feeling their heat as she drew closer.

  This man and woman were so in love, so in tune with each other that it was difficult to tell where he began and she ended. From the smooth curves to the beginnings of the facial features, the power in their union was undeniable. Bree rubbed her hand over the spot where they were joined and felt her own nipples tighten. Closing her eyes, she imagined riding Renny this way. The hard length of him that she’d felt pressed against her back all night and this morning offered a good estimate of his size, and she shivered with need.

  Licking her lips, she now had both hands on the sculpture, grazing over the naked bodies. She’d wrap her legs around Renny and take him in completely. She’d start moving slowly, giving her body time to acclimate itself to his size. He’d hold her hips, guiding her over his shaft in long easy strokes. She bit her bottom lip even as her center began to throb.

  Throwing her head back, she let the sensations wash over her until she could hear their combined heavy breathing, could smell the musty scent of their sex. He’d encourage her with lurid talk of all the things they’d do together as his manhood thrust deeper and deeper inside her. That twirling began in her stomach and she knew a release would come soon.

  Renny watched her from the doorway, saw the moment she slipped into the same position as his sculpture and wanted nothing more than to be there with her. He moved slowly. Sabrina didn’t hear him, she was too far gone. His hands slipped around her waist, pulling her back against his hardness. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth tracing her lower lip, and as he watched her he did the same. Her head fell back against his chest as tiny moans escaped her. He leaned forward, dropping wet kisses along her throat, around to her neck.

  His hands moved from her waist to her breasts and squeezed gently. He wanted this woman so badly. He wanted to pull down the jogging pants she wore and bend her over his worktable. He’d enter her from the back, kneading her butt until she screamed his name. Each thrust would be filled with all the wanting, all the longing she brought out of him. He knew how passionate she was now, how responsive her body was to his touch, so he knew without a doubt she’d be wet and waiting for him. He bit her neck as desire formed a stranglehold around him. “Sabrina,” he growled.

  Bree heard her name and knew it wasn’t the sculpture speaking. Her eyes flew open at the realization that she was no longer alone. Renny was there with her, touching her, kissing her, calling her name, and she almost melted inside. Instead she straightened slowly and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I must have gotten carried away,” she whispered.

  Renny felt her shift and allowed her the space to turn around, but still kept her captive between him and the worktable. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.” He grinned.

  Bree smiled in return, glad he wasn’t going to embarrass her by asking what the hell she’d been doing fantasizing about a statue. “Whichever.” She tried to move away. “I’ll just get out of your way so you can get to work.”

  Renny held her still. “Stay.”

  It was a simple request and she really didn’t have anything to do in the other room, but being close to him was driving her mad. “You have to finish this piece and then get ready for the opening.” He was moving his hands up and down her arms, scattering her thoughts.

  “This piece is personal,” he told her as he shifted their bodies so that he was sitting on the stool and she was sitting on his lap. “You give me inspiration to work on it, so I need you to stay in here with me.”

  She loved the feel of his arms around her, enfolding her. She also admitted that she liked to watch him work. His hands were masterful, and with each touch of the clay she could imagine him touching her. “How could I inspire such a provocative image for you?” She was no Yolanda.

  Renny chuckled. Was she serious? Did she have no clue how sexy she was? It was probably the fact that she’d grown up a tomboy and nobody ever bothered to tell her she was a girl instead. Being in the military most likely further diluted her sexuality. He picked up some clay, began to form the woman’s breasts. “When we first met you had on a T-shirt. It wasn’t too tight as to be offensive, yet it fit across your breasts like a hand in a glove.”

  Bree took a deep breath, expelled it.

  “That night I thought if I had just reached out and cupped my hand I could have fit your breast right in my palm.” With deft movements he made the curve, then replaced one crafting knife for another and detailed the nipple.

  “Oh, great, so now my breasts are small enough to put in your hand.” She bristled, but wasn’t really offended.

  Renny dropped a kiss on her earlobe. “That’s a good thing. I don’t like excess.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “The first time you came into my studio was the first time I saw those breasts uncovered. I not only felt them in my pa
lm, but I tasted them, too.”

  Bree watched as his large hands moved over the small model intricately detailing the woman’s anatomy.

  “Your nipples were so tight and so tingly in my mouth I knew that this model had to have the same thing. They were perfect and I want my sculpture to be perfect.”

  Bree sighed. “You’re really into perfection, huh?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Then you’d better let me go,” she said quietly.

  Renny didn’t miss the change in tone, the moment outside thoughts intruded on their time. “The thing about perfection is that it’s not always blatant, not always apparent for the eye to see. For true perfection one has to look closely, to study, to delve deep until it’s found.”

  “Yolanda’s perfect.” Bree almost pouted.

  Renny frowned and picked up another knife to mold the woman’s backside. “Yolanda is a perfect gallery manager. She’s a nice-looking woman, but she is not a perfect woman, at least not by my standards.”

  Bree shifted on his lap, resting her elbows on the worktable now as he created. “And what are your standards? Breathing? Passably pretty?”

  Renny shook his head. “Nah. I like strength in a woman, intelligence and a sense of self-worth, self-respect. I like a woman that doesn’t need me to define her.”

  Bree was quiet. She knew what she was and knew without a doubt she’d still be exactly that after this job and Renny Bennett were out of her life.

  “What about your standards for a man?”

  “I have to be able to trust him,” she said definitely and without hesitation. “The best-looking packages can offer you everything, but when you find out he’s offering it to other women, as well, it sort of loses its appeal.”

  Had this Harold guy cheated on her? Renny reminded himself not to push. They were making progress. She was comfortable with him and he didn’t want to mess that up. “What if he’s not what he appears to be? Could you still trust him?”

  “If he was honest, appearances wouldn’t matter.”