For Her Protection: An Alpha Romance

by Amber Bardan

  She sat up and noticed he’d laid the throw from the end of her bed across the floor to cover the broken glass. Shit, she really had freaked out. She ran her fingers over her face. Her chest still ached with tightness, her head still buzzed. An icy sensation crept through her.

  She’d felt this sneaking up on her over the last months, the panicky feeling that continued to build no matter how deep she buried it. She rolled over and opened her side table drawer and pulled out a small bottle. The label said one but she took two. She had to hold it together a little longer.

  No way she’d let herself break.

  She swallowed the pills out of her palm. They grazed their way down her throat but she couldn’t be bothered to go get water. She lay back against her pillows, shut her eyes and waited.

  ***

  Connor paced the guest bathroom, giving focus to his conversation. His raging cock would have to wait a god-damn moment before exploding.

  “Sorry to call so late. I just got off duty.”

  Connor paused his pacing. “No problem. What do you have?”

  “I had another chat with your boys before letting them know Miss Halifax refused to press charges. I don’t think you have to worry about them trying anything again.”

  “You don’t think, or you know?”

  “Well I wouldn’t drop her security, but from what I gather they made a stupid impulsive decision, and were working alone.”

  Stupid impulsive decision?

  He remembered Charlie being dragged towards the truck. He’d prefer to ensure nothing like that ever happened again—his way.

  “But next time, if there’s a next time, I’d appreciate it if we could do things by the book.”

  Connor’s jaw tightened. The book and he had never been on the same page. The book is what caused him to never be able to look a person in the eye and tell them they were safe now.

  That’s why he’d gone private.

  But Mark had always been different. As much history as they had, he could only push him so far. “Agreed.”

  “Good.” Mark released a breath. “But one more thing if you’re working for Charlize Halifax…”

  He went straighter. “What?”

  “The boys seem to be under the impression that Miss Halifax is personally accountable for every wrong-doing at the company. The attitude towards her isn’t exactly friendly. There’s a lot of people who don’t want to see her as CEO.”

  Connor frowned. Even though he’d watched her deliver the press conferences, that information didn’t line up with anything he’d seen.

  It sure as shit didn’t line up with the Charlie he knew.

  The one who cared about the people in her employ. He’d bet the closures were killing her—that she’d be the one fighting it tooth and nail.

  But it was a big company.

  And in companies that size, rumors spread faster than truth. In this case, a rumor could be dangerous.

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Always,” Mark said, then hung up.

  Connor stuffed the phone back into his pocket and went to the sink and scrubbed his face with cold water, then looked in the mirror. He looked like shit. The bristles on his face needed removing before they took a layer off Charlie’s skin.

  The image of her chest, reddened with the marks of his face moving over her, conjured in his mind. Blood rushed back to his cock. Shit. He’d just about given himself some kind of repressive cock injury over the last few weeks. Hell, just being near Charlie drove him crazy but watching her come earlier, nearly killed him.

  The way her neck arched, her lips parted, the look of complete ecstasy as he pushed her over the edge.

  He’d reached his limit. He’d tried to give her time to catch up to where he was at. But she was the one asking to be kissed—begging him to prove it. Wickedly slapping his cheek, urging him to lose control.

  She’d succeeded. He’d show her. Right fucking now. He stalked back to her room. She lay curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek.

  Sleeping like a freaking angel.

  Glorious black hair cascaded over her shoulders. The throbbing sensation moved from his cock to his chest. He’d never in his wettest dreams pictured her like this—surrounded by a halo of soft, dark waves. Wearing her adorable fucking unicorn pajamas, her magnificent tits filling the front like a god-damn fantasy. Her pants were still on the floor. He could slide down her sheet, wake her with his cock. He would, if she didn’t need her rest. He’d have to wait but she’d pay for that later.

  He drew the abandoned quilt over her. A small bottle rested on her side table. He picked it up and studied the label, squinted to make out the words in the dark. He moved to the open doorway and read it in the filtering light.

  Damn.

  Anxiety medication. He put the bottle back where it had been. How much stress had she really been under? He’d underestimated that. He’d watched her a whole freaking month. She held herself together so well. He’d watched her work. Watched her barely leave her apartment on weekends where he assumed she worked as well. That night at the bar was the first time he’d seen her let her hair down.

  Yet, from the moment she’d seen him, she’d been after something else. Asking to be kissed. Letting him bend her over in her office.

  He almost couldn’t believe it. They way he’d fantasized about her and then she’d come right to him.

  So if she wanted a little relief he’d damn well give it to her.

  By tomorrow evening she’d be so fucking relaxed she’d have trouble walking.

  ***

  Charlie woke to the smell of bacon. Its smoky scrumptiousness wafted into her room and summoned her. The aroma also reminded her she was not alone in her home—and she’d fallen asleep with Connor’s promise of “serious trouble” still ringing in her ears.

  She washed and dressed in gym gear just in case he wanted to do the whole let’s work out thing again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that time she used to spend in the gym. A moment of “me time”, that vanished when everyone suddenly needed her. She took care of the glass on the floor with the portable vacuum from her closet. Then, it took two full minutes to summon the nerve to open her bedroom door and walk through it. The smell got better the closer she got to the kitchen, but the view—now that was truly delicious.

  Connor owned her kitchen like a rock star owned a stage—even in track pants and a plain white T-shirt. His back rippled as he shifted pans across the stove. He threw a handful of something into a pan and the contents sizzled, as if he were playing an instrument. Her mouth watered but not for food.

  She’d gobble up just about anything he dished up.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Sit down.”

  Connor ducked his head toward the kitchen stools and she plopped onto one. Plates, cutlery, even coffee waited on the counter.

  What the hell was happening? Had she stepped into an alternate universe where hot, bossy men waited on her? She picked up the coffee and took a gulp and tried not to choke on her overeager swallow. Connor carried a pan from the stove and slid two eggs onto her plate and four onto his own. She stared at the perfectly cooked eggs.

  The closest she usually got to breakfast was a takeaway coffee and a muffin. If he was angling for a marriage proposal he was on the right track.

  Connor returned with more pans and loaded her plate with bacon, mushrooms, and beans in a thick sauce. “Homemade baked beans. Eat up, they’re good for you.” He put the pan into the sink and slid onto the stool next to her.

  “I’m surprised you could find what you needed to make them in my pantry.”

  Her plate could barely hold the food piled onto it. She glanced at his plate. He may as well have dished it up in a serving platter. He scooped up a fork of steaming beans.

  “I’m resourceful. Don’t be shy—you’re going to need your energy for what I have planned.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Why was it everything he said sounded dirty? Obviously th
ey were going to work out again. Charlie picked up her knife and fork and cut a chunk of bacon. “More kick-boxing?”

  Connor chewed then gulped coffee. “Not today, just self-defense training. If you’re still into that?”

  “Sure.”

  Maybe he could pin her down a few times…just saying. She tried not to grin.

  He set his cup down and gazed at her. “It’ll be intense but by the end you’ll be surprised at what you can do.”

  Charlie nodded. Apart from unrealistic expectations of kinky floor-wrestling, she looked forward to learning to kick some ass. When she’d been on the girls football team, she’d relished pushing herself that way—to the brink—feeling the hurt and delivering it too.

  Not to mention, if she was actually in danger, there wasn’t any harm in developing a better left hook. Better than getting taken by surprise again.

  She took a small scoop of baked beans, not really her thing but hey, he’d bothered to make them and that was better than anyone else had done for her since she could remember.

  Flavor exploded across her tongue. Garlic with smoky undertones and a hint of sweetness. Scratch that—she freaking loved baked beans. Her eyes shut and she chewed slowly.

  “But it’s the fucking you’re going to need your energy for.”

  Her eyes flew open and she coughed up a bean. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth, her fingers shaking. “What?”

  He held his fork in front of him and it kind of looked as if maybe he was going to scoop her up with it. “If you’re going to eat my food like that, I’ll be forced to feed you something else. So behave or the fucking will come first.”

  Her clothes seemed to shrink around her. Either that or her accelerating blood flow was expanding her skin. “I have work this morning.”

  Connor’s stormy blue eyes shifted across her face—lips—eyes—lips. She had to fight the urge to touch her mouth.

  Had she really just said that? Because if she didn’t get the fucking presented to her just like this awesome meal, she had little confidence that she’d be capable of performing her job anytime soon.

  He leaned closer. “Which is why I’ve already texted Lia that you’re going to be running late.

  She leaned into the warmth of him, drawn to the way his bottom lip glistened. Late? She’d never been late. Now she wanted to cancel the entire workday.

  He straightened and returned to his breakfast. “Now eat.”

  Charlie studied her plate. How in the heck was she supposed to eat another bite? She’d seen this coming—hell, she’d asked for it the night before. But in the clarity of morning the idea made her heart want to crash its way out of her body.

  Why should what she wanted be so completely damn terrifying?

  They finished breakfast and did the dishes like a couple. He washed and she dried and put away. They made use of her mostly empty living room for training, standing barefoot in the middle of the room.

  Charlie glanced at the hardwood floor. “Wouldn’t this be safer on the rug?”

  “We won’t be doing throws today.” He circled her, walking around her three times. “I’m going to show you simple techniques, and at the end I’m going to test you.”

  She frowned. So much for kinky floor exercises. “Like a quiz?”

  “No, like a challenge. We see what you’ve remembered. Get you to think on your feet.” He stopped in front of her. “If you pass the challenge, you win—trust me, you want to win.”

  Charlie folded her arms, and raised a brow. “Am I expected to beat you, Conan?”

  He grinned a devilish smile that reminded her just how quickly he could make her heart race. “All you have to do is prove you were paying attention. It’s not a contest, it’s a challenge—a high stakes challenge.”

  She uncrossed her arms. “How high?”

  “At the end of this I’m going to fuck you.” He slinked closer in his prowling way of moving. “How I do that is up to you. Either you get to fight me off, put up your best resistance, or I own you and you do exactly as I say without hesitation. If you win, you get to choose how it happens.”

  Submission or force.

  Whichever fantasy she wanted…

  Charlie took a breath then reminded herself to breathe out. Told her hands not to shake at her sides.

  “But if you fail, I’ll take you how I want.”

  How he wants? Her body rushed with adrenaline. Part of her wanted to lose just to see which option turned him on. She wanted him rough. As crazy as that sounded, as much as it fell outside what she’d done before. But even for a fantasy this was different. This was asking out loud. This was conscious choice, deliberate.

  “Where’s the win for me in this, really?”

  He closed the distance, made her look up at him and made her breathe in the clean scent of his body. “Because what you want, kitten. You’ve got to admit it.”

  Her tongue fumbled in her mouth, which had apparently found new saliva glands. “What if what I want is to boss you around?”

  “You want to negotiate for that?” His gaze narrowed tauntingly.

  Her mind flashed—his hand in her hair.

  The sweet sting.

  Holding her hands down.

  The way his eyes had sparked knowingly when he’d seen the way it turned her on.

  He knew.

  “I don’t have all day, Conan.”

  He smiled, just briefly—the only acknowledgement that she hadn’t answered his question. And what that meant.

  He stepped back and positioned himself two feet in front of her. “Then let’s get started.”

  He ran her through exercise after exercise. Showed her the vulnerable places on the body to target, how to sneak a hit to the throat before an attacker saw it coming and how to break every kind of hold. More importantly, he showed her how to look around. How to stop the world from closing in and see the things around her, things she could use to protect herself.

  Her muscles ached by the end but she knew she had this.

  “You been paying attention, kitten?” Connor asked.

  “Does it look as if I’ve fallen asleep?”

  He grasped her wrists. “You mean like you did last night? You’re going to pay for that you know. I’m still aching.”

  Was he? Did he ache for her?

  Her insides flooded with warmth but she twisted her arms free. “So was that score one for me?”

  He chuckled and laugh lines dimpled his cheeks. “Sure. Are you ready for the next one?”

  She nodded and stepped from foot to foot. He had her ducking, twisting and even landing a hit to his “sensitive” place. Not that he reacted—the bastard. She was ready to savor the sweetness of victory when he caught her from behind, twisted his fist in her hair.

  Breath evaporated from her chest. She almost fell to her knees, hardly caring which way this went. When did she become this girl who liked getting her hair pulled?

  He laughed behind her.

  Air flooded back into her lungs. She slammed her heel into his foot, her elbow into his stomach and twisted—breaking the grip on her hair. She dropped to the floor and rolled out of reach.

  Connor pursued with his slow, confident swagger. “Congratulations, you did well. So what is it, baby? Are you going to fight this?” He tucked up the legs of his sweatpants and crouched in front of her. “Or are you mine?”

  SEVEN

  Her heart leaped into its exit strategy the same way a toddler tries to beat his way through the floor with his fists—by having a full tantrum against her ribs. Connor hovered above her sprawled body. His hungry gaze reminded her of what would come next.

  Something told her she might not ever recover.

  But the choice was hers wasn’t it?

  Oh fuck, there were some things she wanted…

  She’d never considered herself a dirty girl, yet the ideas slinking through her head would turn a porn star’s cheeks crimson. He did that to her, made her base. Turned her primal.

&n
bsp; “So what do you say? How’s it going to be?” he whispered, his voice husky and raw.

  He leaned over her.

  She dropped from her hands to her elbows. His words might say he’d fulfill the bargain, would let her choose. His body said he’d always be the one in control. The possibilities sent shivers deep into her core, made her hips ache to have him hold them. And dammit, that’s what she wanted. Him above her. Him holding her down.

  To not have to think—just to freaking feel.

  But yet…a tiny shred of something held her back. Not enough to stop her taking what she wanted but enough to change the way she took it. Connor…she still didn’t know how far he could be trusted.

  And it takes a fuckload of trust to let someone restrain you.

  Charlie moistened her lips then sank back against the cool floor. “I guess I’m yours to command.”

  His eyes flashed, his nostrils flared. He covered her like a blanket of muscle.

  “Good choice,” he growled and planted his mouth on hers.

  He kissed her deep, gave her enough tongue to make her want more, yet withheld giving her everything. She wound her arms around him, tried to draw him closer.

  He pulled back. “Remember who’s in charge. You do what I tell you.”

  His fingers hooked in the top of her gym pants and tugged. She gasped. He stripped her bare from the waist down in one movement. She tried to press her legs shut at the shock of sudden exposure.

  He grasped her ankles, his face fierce but not cold. “You shut them if I say shut them. You open them if I say open them.”

  The grip on her ankles made her want to test him. Made her want to see just how rough things could get. Yet something else said yes.

  Yes, she’d do what he said, open everything to him.

  He released her and sat back.

  She bit back the protest that rose to her lips. “No come back— tear my legs open.”

  “Get on the couch.”

  She rolled to her side then stepped on boneless legs to the sofa.

  “Sit on the end.”

  Charlie turned and sat, the cool leather startling her bare bottom. She rested her hand on the arm instead of using it to cover herself. She didn’t tug her top down and hide the strip of dark hair that disappeared between her legs.