The Warrior: DERRICK (Cover Six Security Book 4)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "What issue?"

  Jesus. Why wasn't she moving? Why was she still staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes?

  Innocent.

  Shit! No way. No. Fucking. Way. It made more sense but still—no fucking way.

  "Are you a virgin?"

  Now she moved. Finally. Except she looked more irritated than embarrassed and he didn't understand why—

  "No, of course not."

  Relief flashed through him, quickly followed by something that felt a little too much like jealousy. Or possessiveness. Maybe both.

  Jesus, enough already. She wasn't draped across him, he could climb out of the bed and make his escape now—except his body had decided to ignore his mind's commands and refused to move.

  Lee sat back on her heels, her legs straddling his—how the hell had that happened?—and stared at him with those damn gray eyes that had become his weakness. Especially now, the way they were filled with sadness. With regret.

  With a hint of determination.

  "I told you: I just want..." She slid her gaze from his, swallowed, looked back at him. "I'm tired of just existing, Chaos. I'm going to die. I know that. I want to live for one night before that happens."

  Anger exploded through him, white-hot and searing. Not anger at her, but anger at her certainty that she was going to die. Anger that she had already given up and accepted an ending someone else had written for her.

  Anger that she didn't trust him to keep her safe.

  And no, that didn't make a damn bit of sense because she still wasn't sharing her secrets so yeah, why the fuck would she trust him to keep her safe when she wouldn't trust him with anything else? But fuck it, he wasn't feeling very logical right now and hadn't been since she first kissed him.

  He reached for her, dragged her closer until her body was stretched across his. Her eyes widened in shock when he cupped her face between his hands and spoke, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Bullshit. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

  "You can't promise—"

  "Bullshit."

  "Chaos—"

  "Derrick. My name is Derrick."

  Her eyes flared and she opened her mouth. Maybe to repeat his name, maybe to argue again, maybe to once more tell him what he couldn't do. He didn't give her a chance to speak, just took advantage of her parted lips and bent his head to claim her mouth.

  To claim her.

  There was a split-second of surprise—probably on both their parts—then the kiss exploded. Hot. Wet. Needy. He dragged one hand through her hair, threaded his fingers in the soft strands and reveled in the silkiness caressing his skin. He ran his other hand along her back, tracing each tiny vertebrae of her spine before palming her round ass. He squeezed then adjusted her hips so she was straddling him. It would be so easy to rock against her heat, to press the hard length of his aching erection against her.

  But he didn't. The kiss may have exploded between them with a suddenness that left him gasping for breath but he didn't want to rush this. Didn't want her to think this was just about a quick fix to satisfy some basic physical need.

  And he didn't want to scare her. Maybe she wasn't a virgin—he was taking her word on that—but some inner instinct told him she wasn't very experienced. Her reaction to that first kiss back at her apartment was evidence of that. So was the tentative way she had initiated the kiss just a short while ago, like she wasn't quite sure how to carry out a seduction.

  He tightened his arm around her and deepened the kiss, swallowing her soft little sigh as she collapsed against him. He shifted his body and slid to his back, dragging her with him. His intention had been to roll to his side, to gently kiss every inch of her until she was writhing with need. Until her body, at least, learned to trust him.

  His intentions flew straight out the window when she adjusted her hips and rocked against him. When she dipped her hands under his shirt and dragged it up past his chest. When her trembling fingers traced every inch of burning skin, stopping at the scar on his side, the one from the bullet he'd taken almost a year ago. She glanced up at him, a silent question in her eyes.

  "Later." That was all he managed to get out before she dipped her head and pressed a gentle kiss along the puckered skin.

  The tenuous hold on his control snapped. He grabbed her waist and rolled, pinned her body beneath his and caught her mouth. Claimed her mouth. Deep and hot and wet. His hands skimmed along her arm, her side, caught the hem of the shirt she was wearing—his shirt—and dragged it up, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over her head. Then his mouth was on hers again, hungry and desperate. Drinking in her intoxicating taste and swallowing her soft cries of need.

  He reached between them, ran the back of one hand over the soft fullness of her breasts. Back and forth, over and over until her back arched. He broke the kiss, dragged his mouth over her heated skin, peppering the pale flesh with tiny kisses. Along her collarbone. Her neck. Lower, until he pulled the point of one hard nipple into his mouth and sucked.

  Hands dug into his shoulders as she cried out. Her back arched, giving him fuller access to her breasts, and he took full advantage. Cupping. Squeezing. Licking and sucking until the harsh sound of his own breath mingled with her soft cries.

  He teased the sensitive underside of one breast with his tongue. Kissed his way lower, down along the pale flesh of her stomach, lower still, to the gentle flare of her hip. He slid his fingers inside the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants, lower to the damp folds of her pussy. Jesus, she was wet. So fucking wet and hot.

  He curled his fingers around the waistband and yanked them down, past her hips, her thighs. All the way off until they landed in a pile somewhere on the floor beside the bed. Desperation seized him, an exploding hunger he didn't understand.

  Sex? No, this was more than that. So much more.

  Derrick didn't stop to think, to study, to analyze. He simply acted, throwing all caution to the wind. He wanted. He needed.

  So he did what he did best: he acted.

  He settled his body between her legs, spreading them with his shoulders. Then he dipped his head and ran his tongue along her clit, grabbed her hips and held her still as she writhed and bucked beneath the onslaught. Fingers tangled in his hair, scored his shoulders and arms. He eased one finger inside her, swallowed back a groan as inner muscles clenched and gripped.

  Tight. So fucking tight. Hot. Wet. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, begging to be set free. Begging to sink into Lee's wet heat.

  Not yet.

  He clamped down on the urge to plunge into her, dug deep for control as he licked and teased. As her soft cries turned into breathless whimpers. As her heels dug into the mattress and her hips rocked against his mouth. Over and over until her back arched, until her body stiffened for a second that lasted for eternity. Until she exploded around him, her climax crashing over her in wave after wave of release.

  Derrick gentled his intimate kisses. Eased his fingers from her wet heat and pressed his mouth against her hip. Her belly. Her breasts. Claimed her mouth with a kiss, deep and wet yet oddly gentle.

  She sighed and moved against him, her body already seeking his. Derrick pulled back, his gaze holding hers as he removed his shirt and tossed it to the side. He reached for the snap and zipper of his jeans, watched as heat filled her gaze—and her face—when his cock sprung free.

  Her eyes darted to his, big and wide and so fucking trusting. Her tongue darted out and swiped her lower lip and yeah, he knew it hadn't been deliberate but damn if he didn't damn near fucking lose it just from watching.

  He pushed the jeans down and off, peeled off his socks and then reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom. He tore it open and sheathed himself then fell on top of her. Stretched his body along hers and settled himself between her legs. He grabbed her left leg behind the knee, bent it up and out to the side as he once again claimed her mouth.

  Then drove himself into her tight heat.

 
Over and over, until the entire world disappeared. Until it was just them. Her. Him. Their bodies, entwined together. Joined together as one.

  And he knew, with a bone-deep certainty that was anything but reassuring, that he'd been right.

  Sex clouded the issue.

  But for once, maybe the first time ever, he didn't care if he'd made a mistake.

  Chapter Thirteen

  If Derrick had been expecting a shift in their relationship the next morning, he would have been sorely disappointed. Not that there was a relationship—not in that sense. And not that he really expected Lee to be hanging all over him, all lovey-dovey and emotional and shit like that.

  He wasn't sure he expected anything, not really. But if he, it sure as hell wasn't the remote distance Lee greeted him with as soon as he woke up.

  And Jesus. What was he, twelve? They'd had sex, that was it. A couple times, yeah, but it was still just sex.

  And dammit, he knew it had been a bad idea.

  Yeah, sure. That's why he'd been so adamant about keeping his hands off her.

  Jesus. Not only had he turned into a pouty teenager, he'd become a fucking hypocrite, too.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw when he glanced over at Lee. She was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, her hands carefully folded in her lap, a frown marring her smooth face as she gazed out the window. She was so preoccupied, so deep in thought, that he doubted she was seeing anything passing by outside.

  Shadows darkened the pale skin beneath her eyes, making them look even bigger in her face. Guilt tore at him because he knew he was partly to blame for those shadows. He had a feeling she hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long time and that included last night—

  Because of him.

  Because he'd known the sex was a bad idea and he hadn't cared. He'd given in to the unaccustomed rush of need and ignored every ounce of caution and good sense he possessed.

  Because he wanted her.

  It made no sense. He didn't know her—their long online acquaintance sure as hell didn't count, not in his book. And she didn't trust him. With her body...yeah, obviously. With her life? Maybe, although she'd made it clear last night with her few words that she didn't think there was much he could do to protect her.

  But with her secrets? No. So how the hell was he supposed to protect her if she wouldn't tell him what the fuck was going on?

  Someone was out to get her. The same someone who'd killed her parents. Yeah. Great. Just fucking perfect. He got that. What he didn't get was who. Or why. And dammit, he needed those answers if she expected him to help.

  He banged one fist against the steering wheel in frustration. The sudden movement and soft thud made Lee jump. She clutched at the seatbelt across her chest with one hand, the other automatically reaching for the door handle. What the hell was she going to do? Jump out of the truck while he was driving down the expressway?

  Derrick checked to make sure the locks were engaged, just in case. He didn't think she'd try to jump out deliberately but hell, he knew better than most that fright and the sense of impending danger made people do stupid shit.

  She slid a glance at him, one feathered brow gently lifted in silent question. It was the first sign of any real emotion she'd shown since they first woke up with their arms and legs tangled together a few hours ago.

  "Sorry."

  She ignored his muttered apology then turned back to gaze at the scenery. Derrick doubted she was actually paying attention to anything but what the hell did he know?

  "Where are we going?" And shit, even her voice was quiet and a little too distant. Strained. Tired.

  "We need to get you some clothes." She was wearing the outfit that had been in her backpack but that was literally all she had: one pair of jeans, one sweater, one pair of socks, one change of underwear, one sports bra. That was it. For someone who'd obviously prepared for the possibility of running, she sure as hell hadn't packed very reasonably. Hell, she didn't even have any fucking shoes.

  Of course, that last part was his fault because he'd thrown her shoes out with her other clothes. Not that they didn't need to be thrown out because they'd been butt-fucking-ugly but whatever.

  She pointed to her sock-covered feet now, a hint of irritation in her voice. "How? I can't go into a store without shoes. And even if I could, I don't have anything to buy them with."

  Derrick didn't bother to mention that hefty six-figure balance jotted down in her checkbook register, or the two credit cards that had been tucked into the small envelope. "I'm working on something."

  He didn't tell her what that something was, though. The easiest thing, of course, would be to drive to a store and let her wait in the truck while he went in and grabbed her something, even if it was only a pair of shoes so she could then join him. There were several problems with that.

  First, he had no idea what size she wore. Or what styles she liked. Yeah, he could ask, but that wouldn't solve the other two problems: no way in hell would he leave her anywhere, alone and exposed, until he figured out what the hell was going on.

  And he wasn't exactly sure he trusted her to stay put even if he was stupid enough to leave her alone. Something told him she wouldn't have any problem running and trying to disappear, even without shoes.

  He exited the expressway then made his way along the back roads, moving further and further west and north until he turned onto the narrow road where the offices were located. Five minutes later, he pulled behind the building and parked the truck, then quickly climbed out. He moved to the passenger side and opened the door, reached in and wrapped his hands around Lee's waist.

  She jumped, just the tiniest bit. Not in reaction to his touch but because she hadn't been paying attention to him—she'd been too busy frowning at the building. He ignored the blow to his ego and lifted her into his arms.

  "This is where we stopped the other night. After...when we left the bar."

  He elbowed the door shut and walked toward the rear door, the heels of boots crunching against gravel. "Yeah."

  "Why are we here? What is this place?"

  "It's where I work."

  "For some reason, I always pictured you working in the field somewhere, not in an office building."

  Unexpected laughter choked him, made him actually stop mid-step so he could look down at her. It wasn't just that she was talking to him—that had been the most she'd said to him at one time since last night. It was the assumption that this was nothing more than a regular office building.

  Derrick shook his head without saying a word then kept walking. He adjusted his grip on her, freeing one hand so he could punch in a series numbers on the keypad, followed by his fingerprint. He didn't like the way she was concentrating on the keypad, with her forehead creased and a thoughtful curiosity lighting her eyes.

  "Interesting system."

  "Yeah, it is. And don't even think about trying to figure it out or hacking into it. Trust me, you won't like the consequences."

  She didn't deny that she'd been doing exactly that. And she didn't look even remotely apologetic for doing it, either.

  He stepped inside the cool, dim interior of the rear entranceway and pulled the door closed behind him. A door to his left would take them into the cavernous warehouse portion of the building, where they stored most of their gear. He moved to the door on the right instead, the one that would take them through the maze of hallways leading to the conference room, the offices, and the small professional-looking lobby.

  Lee wiggled in his arms, pushed against his chest with one hand. "I can walk now, you don't need to carry me."

  No, he didn't need to—but he was going to.

  He started down along the hallway, intending to take her to his office and letting her wait in there while he went out front and talked to TR. Then he thought about the computers in his office and all the information carefully buried and hidden inside them. Yes, it was secured and protected, locked down from any intrusion with several layers of security he'd designe
d himself.

  No way in hell was he going to leave Lee in there by herself, not after the way she'd been eyeing the keypad. The temptation would damn near irresistible.

  And he didn't entirely trust that his security system would keep her out.

  Shit.

  He couldn't leave her in any of the other offices—not that he would, anyway—and he sure as hell couldn't take her into the warehouse section. That section was off-limits to everyone, and for good reason.

  Which left the conference room. And to get there, he had to go through the lobby.

  Well damn.

  He readjusted his hold around her and settled her more comfortably in his arms, gratified that she hadn't tried to wiggle free after that one half-hearted attempt to get down. Then he kept walking, each step silent and sure, and moved through the door connecting the hallway to the lobby.

  Four sets of eyes turned and stared at him. TR. Mac. Zeus. Wolf.

  Jesus. It was like a fucking convention in here. Didn't they have anything better to do? Lives to save or governments to topple? Not that anyone but him had ever been part of the latter but still...

  Those four eyes kept watch as he moved through the lobby, never leaving him as he carried Lee past TR's desk and headed toward the conference room. Only one out of the four faces showed any expression and that was TR, who stared after him, her mouth slightly parted in mute shock.

  "TR, meet me in my office in two minutes."

  "What. The. Fuck." The gravelly words came from Mac, no doubt because he'd dared to order his wife around. Tough shit, the big man would get over it eventually.

  From his peripheral vision, he saw TR's hand shoot out, palm up. Her gaze never left him—or the woman in his arms.

  "You owe me five dollars."

  Mac grumbled under his breath and pulled the wallet from his pocket. Whatever he said faded as Derrick finally pushed through the conference room door then closed it behind them.

  Lee's fingers dug into his arms when he tried to place her on her feet, but only for a second. She released her grip on him and lowered her legs, her body sliding against his with a slowness that tempted him. The action hadn't been deliberate, not even close. The way she stepped back—like she couldn't get away from him fast enough—removed any doubt that he might have had about that.