Broken Protocol

by Eden Butler

  “Cruz,” she said, leaning her forehead against my shoulder before she looked up at me, her fingers curled around my collar. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She went still when I brushed my fingers over her face, wiping back those fallen tears. “You feel sad, then cry. You get pissed off, hit something, me if you want. I didn’t lie, Lia.” Not thinking of anything but the look she gave me, I held her face between my hands, biting the inside of my bottom lip to keep from kissing her. “I never wanted to leave you, but I had to...”

  “I hated it, but I understood. I was so...” She shrugged, finally smiling. “I am so proud of you.”

  No one had ever said that to me. Not once in my life and I suppose the shock of those words moved over my face. Maybe I went a little pale. Maybe some weird punk expression clued Lia into what those six words worked up inside me.

  “Cruz?” she said, voice worried, fingers curling around my wrist as I continued to hold her face still. “Are you...”

  I didn’t mean to move. Didn’t mean to come close just to be rid of the need to touch her, taste the only thing that ever brought me anything resembling joy. I was an agent with a job to do. She was the job that belonged to the president, to the country now.

  I had no business doing what I did.

  But that knowledge damn sure didn’t stop me.

  Lia went still the second my lips touched hers. She dropped her hands, didn’t move her lips at all and as soon as I kissed her, I realized my stupid mistake. She didn’t want me. She had the leader of the free world in her bed. What the hell would she want with a glorified bodyguard?

  Then, the shock seemed to fade from her body and as I pulled back, an apology already circling the back of my throat, Lia touched my cheek, watching me close, eyes wide as she stroked her thumb over my eyebrow. All those moments of catching up and filling in the blanks time and distance had made for us on the campaign, all the times she’d had too much wine and she’d touch my arm, or lean against my shoulder so tired from the performance of her life—all that seemed to pulse between us. Every occasion of moments that meant more than either of us would admit flashed in her eyes and I knew without having to ask a single question that she thought about the long looks and subtle smiles. She held my face still and, I guessed, likely wondered what to make of the kiss I’d stolen from her.

  “I’m sor...”

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, thumb lowered over my face, covering my mouth as her voice deepened. One look told me all I needed to know. One shift of her hand to the back of my head and I knew what would happen.

  I wasn’t going to stop it.

  You loved her first, I told myself, recalling all those nights in college she fell asleep against me, naked, body hot and sweat slick, all mine. Completely mine.

  Lia pulled me down, mouth to hers, tongues brushing in an easy flirt I knew I didn’t deserve but could not find even a hint of control to stop. She leaned back against the mattress, and I followed, keeping myself from laying on top of her as she controlled the kiss, hand on my jaw, mouth strong, tongue stronger, both of us watching each other as we kissed, like we didn’t want to miss a thing, like the dream was too good, too fantastic to be true. Closing our eyes would end it all and I didn’t want to wake up.

  “Lia,” I tried, my body firing up, chest tighter than it had been in years. Everywhere she touched me—fingertips against my neck, nails scratching my collarbone, mouth and tongue on my chin, down to my neck—felt fevered. “What are we...”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her words unsure, her touch damn certain. “I only know this is better than I’ve felt since I was in New Orleans. Nothing...” She pulled on my shoulders, then gasped, releasing a noise that was half sigh, half laugh. “Nothing has ever felt like you have.”

  I didn’t stop her as she moved, knelt in front of me to kiss me. Her mouth felt too good, her tongue so hot, so sweet. Lia took her time taking from me—nails up my back, over my shoulders as she pushed off my shirt, teeth grazing against my nipples until I could only thread my fingers in her hair, amazed as she sucked my skin between her lips.

  “I’ve...missed this,” Lia said, laying me back, letting me unbutton her shirt, strip her of her bra, her skirt, cup her full, beautiful breasts as she straddled me. “And...oh, God, this...” She lowered, nails at my ribs, mouth along my abs, fingers hurrying to unbuckle me, to take me out of my shorts, free me of everything keeping us from being skin to skin. Then, she took me into her mouth in one swift, eager move.

  “Christ,” I said, holding her against me, my hand on the back of her head I as she sucked me, her moans vibrating against my cock.

  “Missed this the most.”

  “Lia...God...that feels...”

  Amazing. It’s what I felt when she sucked me, fingers wrapped tight, tongue over the head, suction unbelievable. I was going to explode. After a few focused strokes and her sweet fucking mouth, I knew I was going to explode for...the First Lady.

  Damn it.

  President Harris’s wife was naked on my bed, her mouth taking all of me. Lia was...no. I couldn’t let this happen. Not here. Not like this.

  “St...stop,” I said, holding her still at the shoulders.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

  “I...of course I do,” I told her, pushing her back to sit up. Hands scrubbing my face, I inhaled, trying to get myself under control. A beautiful woman shouldn’t have this much control over me. I’d faced worse. I’d battled with way more than my own primal need for someone I shouldn’t want anymore.

  “Cruz? Did I do something...”

  “No,” I told her, brushing her hand away when she reached for me. “I just can’t...Lia, this isn’t right. You’re married... to the president and I...”

  She silenced me with the shake of her head and it felt like a gut punch when fresh tears started to sprinkle between her long lashes.

  “I need you, Cruz.,” she said, her tone defeated, edging toward desperation. “Please. God, you have no idea how much I need you.”

  A thousand excuses came to me then. A thousand reasons to leave this room and refuse to touch her. It was immoral, the things I wanted from her. It was a violation of my duty to take what wasn’t mine anymore. A thousand and one reasons to leave her, a thousand more keeping me where I was.

  “This goes against every promise I made when I took this job,” I told her, hoping she could understand why it wasn’t easy to violate my honor. “This...goes against ever decent instinct in my body. To take another man’s wife...”

  “In my heart, he’s not my husband. A man doesn’t...what he’s done, what he continues to do...that’s not how a husband acts. That’s not what a good man does. Besides, you promised me a long time ago you’d have me. You promised me as long as you were around, whenever I needed you, you’d be there.”

  “Lia...this,” I said, motioning between our naked bodies, “isn’t what I meant.”

  “Cruz,” she said, crawling closer, back of her hand against her wet face. “My husband doesn’t love me, and I have to pretend I’m okay with that.” I didn’t stop her when she touched me, her fingers warm against my chest. “I have to pretend I’m not in love with the first man who stole my heart when I was twenty.”

  “Lia...”

  “This isn’t wrong. No matter what anyone says, it doesn’t feel wrong to want you. I...God, I need you now.” She took my hand, pulling it around her waist. “Please keep your promise.”

  Her skin was warm, soft and I let her press against me because she was my weakness. I let Lia pull my mouth to hers, let her rub against me because touching her made me feel alive. Then, she sat back, legs open for me, hand wrapped around my dick, stroking until I couldn’t stand the slide of her fingers, until every nerve ending on my body was electrified.

  “Lia...” I tried, one final warning, one small plea for her to change her mind, but she shut me up with her kiss, then had me panting with her hand moving my dick until the ti
p teased against her sweet, wet pussy.

  “Get inside me. Please.”

  I did, grunting, breathless, then so fucking sated when I pushed forward and finally found my way home again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Waterford, Virginia, 2018

  Lia

  IT WAS THE SOFT TAPPING knock that woke me, but I couldn’t move. My body had come alive the night before with every kiss Cruz laid against my skin. It was impossible to believe he was with me, here, all alone with nothing to keep us apart.

  The knock got louder, and I tried to hold my eyelids open, then decided that was a stupid effort when Cruz kissed my temple and slid from the warmth of the covers. Through half blinks, I spotted the clock on the bedside table, irritated that it was only five a.m., then immediately forgiving as Cruz stood against the dim firelight, that perfect naked silhouette like some ancient statue, delicious, tempting as he bent to shimmy into his shorts, then his suit again before he answered the door.

  The room was still warm from the fire and smelled of sex and sweat from how hard, how perfectly Cruz had taken me. I drifted between asleep and awake but was aware enough to watch him dress, to feel the soft, wet kiss he left on my mouth before he moved to the door.

  “Hurry back,” I whispered, still high from him, still aching deliciously from how hard he’d loved me. I’d never get enough of that. I’d never be completely full of Cruz Solano.

  In half an hour, Nelson would know. Then he’d pass along where Cruz had spent the night to his commanding officer. Secret Service agents on this detail keep secrets, but not from each other and never from their CO’s. We would be discovered. Not long from now, the world would know.

  Soon I’d stop being America’s Widow.

  It was late, and I was exhausted, but the warm spot next to me where Cruz had slept grew cooler and the musky scent of the pillow he’d slept on didn’t smell as strong as it had just minutes before. It was soft against my naked breasts when I hugged it and I closed my mind, willing myself to relax, to get back sleep, to hold onto the night as tightly as I could. The sun would come and with it, reality. I had no idea what that would mean for us. I had no clue if he’d chalk this up to a dream, some lucid moment of fantasy that wouldn’t follow us into our lives.

  You let me have you again, Lia, and we forget everything. None of it matters. I don’t want you if I can’t have it all.

  His promise was sweet, it sent my heart soaring when he spoke those words to me. But my life hadn’t been my own for years. Sometimes it was impossible to believe that a happy ending awaited me, no matter how much I wanted it. No matter how many promises Cruz made to me.

  “What’s your play here?” Johnson’s voice carried down the hall, sounding a little panicked and as his words penetrated, some hopeful, stupid flame sparked in my chest.

  “This is complicated. A resignation would be expected...”

  Cruz was never unsure. He was never confused like he sounded just now. On the job, doing his agent bit, he’d never showed indecision. Especially not in front of his fellow agents. He’d gone so far as to stand guard the night we’d been alerted to a bomb threat at the rally in Hartford. He ran a hundred-and three-degree temperature and still kept himself on notice and his attention on alert. The man sounding unsure and confused in front of Johnson wasn’t the man I’d fallen for as a kid. It wasn’t the man I’d almost thrown my entire life and reputation away for six years ago.

  The warmth surrounding me fell away when I pushed back the covers and grabbed my robe, tying it closed as I shot through the door to find Johnson looking worried, scrubbing his face as Cruz stared down at him, face tense in a frown. They both looked up, standing at attention when I approached, Johnson shooting me a quick, “Ma’am” and a head nod before he left down the hall.

  Cruz’s face eased, the tension not as drawn when he watched, but I caught the twitch in his fingers before he stuffed his hands in his pockets. It seemed like he wasn’t sure what he should do—make excuses for what had happened between us, or touch me like he wanted. I didn’t give him a chance to decide.

  “You’re going to resign?” There was an expectant cadence in my voice that probably irritated him, but he didn’t answer. The longer I watched him, the clearer the reality became. But he didn’t look away. He didn’t try to make excuses or tell me he knew what was best for me. That had been his go-to response the afternoon six years ago when Cruz decided us being together wasn’t going to happen.

  “Listen, Lia...we should...”

  I lifted my hand, ready to strike, eager to save him the effort he’d have to put into blowing me off again. He didn’t move his gaze from my face as I stepped closer. “You’re going to tell me it was a mistake, aren’t you?” I ignored the way he clenched his jaw, how a small pulse began to bet under his right eye, both telltale cues that Cruz was trying to keep himself in check. “I’m too exhausted for this and we’re too old to play the back and forth shit.”

  “That’s not what’s happening here,” he said, looking over his shoulder before he grabbed me, pulling me away from the noise Johnson, Nelson, and the other agents made in the kitchen. Cruz didn’t bring me back to my room, deciding instead, I guessed, that his need to correct my assumptions or scratch the itch to kiss me again was too pressing. He pinned me to the wall just beyond the alcove that led to the bathroom, his face hovering above mine, his fingers twisted in the fabric of my robe. “That isn’t going to happen again. Not now. Not fucking ever.”

  Cruz didn’t kiss me. He didn’t whisper sweet things that would make my chest tighten or my clit throb with need. But he did attack my mouth, holding my face between his massive hands, tongue and teeth fighting for control when I dropped my bottom lip, ready to ask questions I was sure he didn’t care about answering. He owned my mouth, possessing me like he knew I’d submit. Like he had every right to take all I had and never apologize for leaving me drunk on the taste of him and the crushing power of his kiss.

  I moaned when he pushed himself against me, hips sharp, cock thick and ready as he moved closer still. “You want this, mami?” He moved his hips again, teasing me with the heavy weight of his dick over my pussy and the grip against my right breast when he cupped me. “You want me as much as I want you.” Cruz nibbled at my bottom lip until I opened for him, letting him suck my tongue, moving his hand down to open my robe and slip two fingers between my folds. “You do.” He smiled against my mouth, inhaling as he teased my clit. “You’re ready and wet and I could take you right here.” He leaned back, glancing down the hallway as he continued to finger me. “Isn’t that right, beautiful?” Cruz moved closer, fingers deeper when I didn’t answer, and I moaned again, earning a slow, sweet smirk from him.

  “Stop...stop distracting me,” I told him, figuring his play by the time he cupped my breast. “I’m not stupid.”

  “You’ll never hear me say that.” He ignored the small, weak protests I made, slipping another finger inside me, leaning back to open my robe and take my nipple into his mouth. He hadn’t shaved, and his growing stubble bristled against my skin, making me hot, making me almost as wet as I had been the night before when Cruz threw my legs over his shoulders and ate me long, hard, and so damn deep. It wasn’t long after he increased the pressure on my nipples and found my G-spot that I felt myself close to the edge, then Cruz moved his hand faster, worked me hard and slipped his palm over my mouth as I came right there in the hallway, my muffled moans hidden behind his large hand.

  It may have only lasted a few minutes. It might have been days, but I came down from my high, breath evening out as he kissed my neck, smile dimming when he brushed his free hand against my face. Cruz’s gaze veered down the hall before he moved his fingers away from my pussy and into his mouth. “You still taste so sweet, mami.”

  “Cruz...” It was a moan I didn’t try to hide, but one that earned me a smile and another searing kiss that left me breathless. “What are you doing?”

  “Distracting you,” he said, glan
cing one more time down the hall when Johnson spoke to Nelson and the others. Cruz nodded, dragging me back to my room just as Johnson cleared his throat.

  I caught the quick exhale of the agent’s voice as he said, “Nelson, scan the entrance. I’ll hit the courtyard,” and then Cruz brought me into my room. I expected more of his attention, maybe a quick tumble back into my bed so I could return the favor he’d just paid me, but Cruz’s entire demeanor changed the second he shut the door.

  His back to me, he waited, seemed to listen with his head down, giving me his profile. There was a sharp edge to his expression and a tight cast to his features. Cruz looked worried, anxious, and he was never either of those things.

  “Hey,” I started, my heart pounding when he held up his hand to silence me. I’d seen that look before. The night of the assassination when Phil and a crowd of other agents made a human shield around me and Lincoln. It had to be something in an agent’s training—keep on guard, never give away a thing, but they could never quite manage to keep the fear from their eyes.

  Cruz held that same wide-eyed worried look and that look did nothing to slow my thumping heartbeat.

  Outside on the courtyard behind us, Johnson’s voice carried, and he gave one quick rap against the window before Cruz moved again, turning to my closet, coming back to the bed with a pair of jeans, a thick sweater, boots, socks, and my underthings. In his other hand he held a bag ready with my toiletries and a few shirts I recognized neatly folded on top. That he zipped closed as I followed his unspoken command and quick nods at the clothes he handed me, to dress. He didn’t speak, didn’t do much but check his gun and fire off a few messages I couldn’t see on his cell.

  I wanted to vomit. The rapid pace of my heartbeat made me dizzy, but I quelled the instinct to whine or ask Cruz what was happening and why we were leaving. I didn’t need to. The drill had been recited to me a dozen or more times since Lincoln’s first inauguration. If there was a threat, you followed instruction. You moved and got to where you needed to be without uttering a word. Answers would come when they were offered, not a second before.