by Em Petrova
She threw her arms around him and pulled him down. The weight she never thought to feel again on top of her stole the last of her sanity.
“I love you, Lars. Make me yours.”
His eyes glowed with all the love in the world. “You are mine, Lil, and nobody will ever tear us apart again.”
* * * * *
Buried in Lillian’s body without any restrictions, feeling her tight heat squeezing him over and over, shredded the last of his control. This woman could undo him in so many ways—she had from the start. No one could be more of his equal than Lillian.
Claiming her lips, he gripped her hip, drawing her up and into his every thrust. She locked her thighs around his body and rode him faster.
“Jesus, I’m not going to hold out. I fucking want to fuck you…all…day…and… night.”
Her smile curled around his heart and tightened the bonds she clamped on it. When she ran her hands up his chest, he knew she left light pink scratches on his skin, claiming him as much as he claimed her.
Pumping his hips, he gained a rhythm that set him flying toward the final release. The liquid heat knotted at the base of his spine. The tingle shot up through his balls.
“Oh God,” she moaned as his first spurt of cum hit her bare walls.
A long moan tore from his chest, and he watched her eyes pinch shut as her pussy tightened around him once again.
“Fuuuck,” he growled and trapped her mouth. Their tongues tangled through the sordid groans they shared. She came down first, wrapping her arms around his back and holding him close to her as the final shots of his orgasm left him.
He collapsed heavily, half rolled to the side to allow her air. For long moments, neither moved or spoke. Her scent wrapped around him, and all he could do was close his eyes in bliss.
“Lars,” she said after a time.
Another cheer came from the crowd, and he remembered where they were. He opened his eyes and found hers shining up at him. His heart tugged, and he lowered his lips to brush over hers.
“Yes, my love?” he rasped.
“Promise me something.”
“I’ll try.”
She stroked a hand down his spine. “Swear that you won’t put on a mask around me. No more hiding away your feelings from me. Even if you don’t want to share, we must keep the communication open between us. Don’t lock me out.”
He dropped his gaze. “It might take me some time. It’s a learned behavior, you could say. I have to don so many faces in my work.”
“Not with me. I deserve the real Lars every moment of every day.”
“You do. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never feel shut out, gorgeous. I love you too much to ever hurt you.”
She tipped her lips up for his kiss. The tender meshing of their mouths went on for long minutes. When he skated a hand down her side, he raised goosebumps in his wake. His cock twitched, still inside her.
“You want me again.” She flexed her inner walls around him.
He moaned. “Always. I want to get you alone. I plan on taking you back to your apartment and guarding you with my body for several days.”
Her soft smile was all the consent he required. “I suppose I should make an attempt to watch the end of this race.”
Lowering his head, he swiped his tongue across her beaded nipple, causing her breath to hitch. He lifted his head and peered at her. “Get dressed. I hear that bodyguard of yours at the door.”
Alarm hit her eyes, and she shot up, grabbing for her clothing scattered around them.
“How do you know he’s at the door?” she hissed out.
“I heard his footsteps.”
“Do you have an ultra hearing device too?” She yanked her top overhead, not bothering with her bra but shoving it into her handbag instead.
He stuffed his hard cock into his jeans with some effort and managed to zip his fly. She paused to watch him do this, a dark look of wanting on her face.
Lars cupped her cheek, staring into her eyes. “Me too, gorgeous. Let’s finish our first race, shall we? Since we missed the last one.”
“I did enjoy having my arms around you on the back of that motorbike as we escaped, though.”
He arched a brow. “So you’re a speed demon like me. Maybe I can find us another fast ride when we get out of here.”
Her smile spread, and she leaned her cheek into his touch. “As long as you don’t try to leave me at any more safehouses.”
“As if you’d stay there. I still plan on spanking your ass for those little tricks you pulled in America.”
Her smile widened. “Don’t tease if you don’t plan on following through.”
Another cheer resounded, and both of them turned to look at the screens as Pierre Moreau took the lead. Lillian brushed her disheveled hair over her shoulders and tucked her blouse into her pants.
“Looks like my client might come out on top.”
Lars stared at her when he said, “I know I have.”
Her eyes glowed, and she clasped his hand, leading him back to the chair. Once he settled, she slipped into his lap where she belonged.
Epilogue
“What do you mean you can’t throw rice at weddings anymore?” Lars grumbled.
Lillian, in a dark red dress with a plunging V front that showed off her lithe body, turned her smile on him. “When was the last wedding you attended?”
“Might have been the nineties.”
“Just open the box when everyone else does, Lars.”
He held the small white box in his palm. As Oz and Rose exited the wedding hall, all their friends and family sent up a cheer. The first butterfly hit the air, and one after another, they all opened their boxes and released their butterflies to greet the couple on the start of their new life together.
Oz pulled Rose against him and kissed her soundly, to more hoots and hollers from the small group. At the front, their sons Nick and Alex traded a gross-our-parents-are-kissing look.
Colorful butterflies filled the air in a cloud, and Lars turned his attention to Lillian. The happiness on her face gave him such a feeling of peace that his chest grew tight. After slipping his arm around her middle, he tugged her into his embrace. She met his gaze, and they got lost in each other until he realized the crowd was dispersing, following the newlyweds into the building again for the reception.
With Lillian’s hand firmly clasped in his, Lars pulled her toward Oz and Rose. At their approach, Oz’s grin widened. “You made it.”
“Just barely.” His return from yet another mission in Russia took longer than expected, and he’d made a stop in Paris to pick up his love. Though they didn’t have much time to spare, he couldn’t help himself from dragging Lillian into bed and keeping her there for far too long. They’d made good time on their flight, though, and arrived in time for Lillian to doll herself up for the wedding and Lars to step into his tux.
He clapped Oz on the back and they bro-hugged. “I’m glad to see you so happy, man,” Lars said to his friend.
“Never thought I’d see it myself. Not in our line of work.” He threw Rose a glance. She and Lillian hugged. The pair hit it off so well, Lars and Oz joked that they were long-lost sisters. And after meeting the twins, Lillian couldn’t speak highly enough about the young men, who would be off to basic training in a week.
“Soon it’ll be your turn,” Oz said to him.
At one time, he might have laughed in the face of anyone who told him he would fall in love let alone marry. Now he couldn’t imagine life without his woman.
“We aren’t there yet, but I won’t let her go, Oz. Not ever.” His voice rang with a new kind of solemn vow.
Lillian and Rose turned to them. Lars pulled her into his side, and she melted against him. The first stirrings of desire started low in his gut, and her sweet perfume invited him to find all the places on her body that she’d sprayed it.
“Congratulations, you two. We’re going to find a drink.” Lars smiled at Oz and Ros
e before leading Lillian off.
When he steered her away from the bar set up along the back of the room, Lillian said, “What are you up to, Lars?”
“I’m taking you someplace where we can be alone.” He shot her a grin over his shoulder, and she quickened her steps to keep up.
They reached a door and stopped.
“I think it’s locked,” he said.
She arched a brow. “I thought you can open any door. Surely you won’t hesitate to find a place where I can rip this beautiful tux off your muscled body and have my way with you.” Her eyes danced.
Groaning at the images her words evoked, he extended a hand to the door lock. It clicked open, and they slipped into the darkness of what appeared to be a supply closet.
She giggled. “Not very romantic.”
He whirled her against a wall and pinned her, the darkness covering the look of want he gave her, but not the fact his cock stood rigid in his tuxedo pants. He pressed his hips into hers, and they shared a quiet moan.
“I beg to differ. It’s very romantic.” He kissed her, a soft nibbling that soon turned to passionate swipes of their tongues. When he spun her to face the wall and whipped her dress up, he found she wore nothing beneath the red silk.
With a moan, he located her liquid warmth, running his fingers through her slick folds. Mouth to her ear, he whispered, “I love you, Lillian.”
She gasped at the invasion of his fingers. “Love you!”
“Sink back on my fingers, gorgeous. Take what you need.”
She rocked into his hand again and again until her release struck, and she squeaked as she bit off her cry. Lars spun her to face him again and kissed her long and deep.
In the dim light seeping beneath the crack in the door, he saw the want in her eyes. “You didn’t get release.”
“You’ll please me soon enough. I’m going to make you think of all the ways to do that while we attend this wedding reception. Then I’ll take you back to the house and you’ll be mine all night long.”
She shivered and slipped her arms around him. “I’m already thinking up ways to drive you absolutely crazy.” Her English slipped into French. He wasn’t the only one who got so distracted by being around each other that he wove between worlds.
He pressed his lips to hers once more. “I hear our song playing. Let’s go dance.”
“We don’t have a song, Lars.”
“We do now. C’mon, gorgeous. I bet you don’t know how to salsa.”
She laughed, a sound that echoed with a throatiness from her release. “You’re not the only one with hidden talents, Lars.”
He led Lillian out of the closet and back to the party, her hand firmly enclosed in his grip and his stare latched on her face . No, I’ll never let her go.
THE END
Read on for a Sneak Peek of HIS TO PROTECT, Book 3 of The Guard Series
“Come on, North. Are we dancing or street fighting?” Madeline didn’t even break a sweat as they went into their third round of training for the day.
North growled and dodged her punch. The woman was wiry, mouthy and a pain in his ass, but she was the best fighter they had in The Guard, and he needed a hardcore training session after being laid up for months with a leg full of plates and pins.
She bounced backward, light on her toes.
But I can be lighter. He threw all his focus into kicking her ass and collecting on their bet.
He leered at the petite blonde who was a master of Jiu Jitsu and street fighting. “You’re not besting me today, Sister.”
She tossed him a grin and snapped a front kick he didn’t see coming. The blow caught him in the midsection, and he grunted. Laughter drifted from the sidelines from the other members of the elite protection agency as they looked on.
North’s leg ached, and he knew he’d be icing the bastard tonight just to get enough relief to sleep. But he needed this tough love to get in shape for his next mission. He’d been lazy the last four months, sitting behind the computer monitor staring at the maps he specialized in. But it was time to get off his ass and protect people again.
“Points are in her favor, North,” Archer drawled.
“Not for long.” He surged forward, striking back.
“Don’t go easy on me now. I can take whatever you throw at me.” Madeline brushed off the blow as though a measly fly buzzed at her instead of the hard kick to her upper thigh that would have doubled over a large man.
With a startling roar, Madeline threw herself at him, arms and legs working in precision moves. He shifted into a crouch and grabbed her entire body, lifted her and slammed her into the mat. Breath whooshed from her, but she didn’t stay stunned for long—she hooked an arm around his neck and flipped on top of him.
In the woman’s stranglehold, North wondered how the hell he got himself into these things. Madeline flipped again and then clamped her thighs around his ears like a vise. Hoots and hollers echoed through the room from his friends, and North finally edged an arm in between Madeline’s thighs and pried them apart.
With a whipping motion, he heaved her off him. She somersaulted and came back stronger, but he used his anger, strength and weight to pin her flat on her back. Silence sounded in the room. She stared up at him.
“You know I could render you unconscious right now,” he panted with exertion and the rush of victory.
She jerked upward and butted him in the head. He felt his eyebrow split open yet again. His scar ran through that brow so deep that hair didn’t even grow there anymore, and it took ages to heal nowadays.
“Son of a bitch!” Blood dripped down his face, and Madeline casually slipped out from under his weight and stepped away, arms folded.
Laughs and jeers came from the guys standing by watching. North rolled to his feet and swiped the blood away with his sleeve. Madeline threw him a smile, and a laugh burst from him.
“You live for this shit, don’t you?” he asked her.
“Little bit.”
Their boss and leader, Oz, approached with arms out. “You guys are well-matched.”
“But I drew blood,” Madeline reminded them.
“North’s just getting back in shape,” Oz responded.
Irritation rose in North. For months now, Oz had been giving him a pass for missions, making excuses on his behalf.
“I just proved I’m ready for any fight thrown at me.” He reached up for the elastic band holding his long curly hair into a man bun and pulled it free. He swiped all the hair back and created a new topknot.
“So who won the bet?” Roman, their fellow brother, looked between him and Madeline.
“I did,” they said in unison.
“What was on the line again? Hundred bucks?”
The amount was a typical bet between them, but today the stakes were somewhat higher.
He met Madeline’s gray stare. “That antique knife we recovered from one of our targets,” North said.
“Ohhh. Damn. Guess you’re at a standoff and the knife remains property of all,” Roman said.
North extended a hand to Madeline. “’Til next time, Sister.”
She gripped his hand hard and pumped it once. “I’ll be training. Will you?”
“Hell yeah,” he growled.
After they broke away, North turned for the exit. The back room of the church had been set up as a training space, with mats and gym equipment. He walked into the restroom and pulled off his sweaty clothes. Following a generous spray of deodorant, he put his usual uniform of jeans and a logo T-shirt back on. This shirt said NERD in big letters across his chest—one of his favorites because it started a lot of conversations with pretty girls.
While he laced up his boots, he thought over his sparring session. Analyzing where he’d gone wrong and what he could have done differently both weighed heavy on his mind.
Minutes later, he left the restroom and wove through the old cathedral that served as their headquarters. The scents of wood polish and the communal wine that hadn�
�t been drunk here in years hung in the air. While laid up in his apartment for weeks with his injuries, he didn’t realize how much he missed these smells. Now he dragged a deep breath through his nostrils, relishing the sense of belonging he’d missed even more.
He moved into the main church with its soaring ceilings and curved beams crisscrossing the arch. The pews were filled with quite a few members of what they called the Church, all busy with research or quietly discussing missions. North walked to the far wall to the bar and poured himself a shot of tequila.
“I don’t know how you still drink that,” Oz said from behind him.
North set down the bottle and lifted the whiskey. “Is this more to your liking, boss?”
Oz grabbed a shot glass and flipped it over for North to do the honors. He poured a tot and passed it to Oz.
They sipped a moment in silence, and North allowed the alcohol to work against his frayed nerves. He didn’t want to admit to how on edge he’d been during that fight. Losing wasn’t an option, and deep down, he’d fostered the fear that he really wasn’t physically up to par.
At least I proved myself.
He and Oz set their glasses down at the same time. “Well, back to work,” North said.
Oz nodded and followed him into the chamber off the altar where computer equipment lined one wall. Madeline already sat at hers, typing away, deep in concentration.
North worked closely with her day in and out, and he probably tolerated the ice queen better than anyone, but today he didn’t feel like sitting next to her. When he slipped into his chair, she didn’t glance away from her screen.
Settling in, he checked the list of active missions. Their last call came in two days earlier, with a missing woman and a husband desperate to find her. After some deep investigation, Madeline got the lead. The husband was involved with a gambling ring, and they’d taken the woman out of her bed while he worked the night shift. They wanted payment and ransom money on top of it, but Oz had dispatched one of their guards to locate and protect her while several others made sure the kidnappers couldn’t come for her ever again.