Guarded Heart

by Anya Breton

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I was so resistant to working with you.”

  Morgan stepped back from the island and stood upright. “I also can’t stop thinking about you because I admire you.”

  She shot him a reproachful look because she knew that was a lie.

  “You’ve always been brave enough to do your own thing,” he said. “You didn’t let anyone walk all over you. And you didn’t let anyone else get walked on either. You stood up for a puny boy against bullies even when he was too afraid to stand up for himself.”

  “You forget that the bullies broke the puny boy’s fishing pole.”

  “I didn’t forget. You tried to teach me how to be brave. I didn’t listen.”

  “That’s because I’m shit at teaching,” she said, derailing his praise. “I was too abrasive and opinionated to get my points across without insulting. You were always diplomatic and calm in the face of opposition. Do you know how many years and hundreds of hours of meditation it took me to get to where I didn’t want to hurl aspersions when a client did something foolish? I don’t have an ounce of your ability to lead people.”

  “Are you saying you admire me too?”

  Brook let out a harsh laugh. “I guess I am.”

  “I really want to see what we could be like together, Brook.” Morgan’s soft words slithered under her skin, raising tiny bumps.

  It was mad. They couldn’t be together and it wasn’t solely because of the contract they’d signed. They’d be at each other’s throats. And yet…she’d never felt desire the way she had with him in the car last night.

  “I can’t,” she said, barely thinking it through. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am now. I can’t risk my career on an uncertainty. I’m sorry, Morgan.”

  She strode for the nearest exit before their conversation turned into an argument. It was time to check this “natural safety” anyway.

  Chapter Nine

  Morgan shifted on the sofa for no other reason than to make noise. Brook had seemingly forgotten his existence. She’d spent twenty minutes outside and then had been on the phone since she’d returned. He felt like a neglected child acting out to get his parents’ attention.

  But her refusal had put him in a foul mood much like a rowdy youth. Brook’s logic was sound—that this was a test of her willpower on the job. Morgan didn’t have to like it.

  “I’m desperate. At this point any model would do,” she said to whoever was on the other end.

  Desperate. He wasn’t quite there but if forced to spend more than a day alone with her in this decadent cabin, that could quickly change.

  “You do?” Her pitch lifted. “Excellent. Where are you located again?” Brook exhaled grumpily. “When do you close? All right. Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

  She faced him. “I have to go out. I found a shop that carries Tasers. If I can’t fortify the place, I can at least get my weapon of choice.”

  Morgan stood, meaning to follow her wherever she went.

  “I want you to stay here,” she said with a shake of her head. “The TV room has the fewest windows. Turn off the lights, close the curtains and watch a movie. Whatever you do, don’t answer the door or phone. I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll even bring dinner with me. Any requests?”

  Her served with a dollop of whipped cream?

  He grunted. “No. Are you sure you should go without me?”

  She gave him a who’s-the-Ranger look that silenced any further protests. “I’m leaving my number by the phone. Only use it in the case of an emergency. If you see anyone other than me pull into the driveway or walk around outside, call me. Don’t call me if you get lonely or decide you need beer or something. Got it?”

  He muttered his understanding.

  She took a step closer. “Morgan, have you got all that?”

  “Yes, Brook.”

  Her assessing look implied she didn’t believe him. She turned and left him alone despite her skepticism. Morgan listened as the rental car pulled away. He’d gotten all that she’d said, but that wasn’t to say he’d follow her suggestions. No, he needed to take the edge off and he’d rather not do that while watching a movie.

  * * * * *

  Brook felt more secure now that the Taser was strapped to her waist. Given her loss of control over everything else, it was nice to finally return to a measure of normalcy. Though she would have preferred to avoid Morgan, his safety was her priority. She’d pushed the car to the speed limit everywhere she could on the trip without him.

  The restaurant had taken far too long with her order given she’d called ahead while she’d waited at the gun shop. Brook had killed more time at a big box store after the gun shop and yet she’d still had to wait for the pizza to come out of the oven. The world conspired against her—though hopefully it was only benign conspiracies like hitting constant red lights and being stuck behind slow drivers.

  Her stomach growled at the scent of cheese and red sauce wafting into her nose on the walk to the cabin. The door opened on its own before she could hitch a hip out as a pizza box stand. A blond head appeared and then a set of bare shoulders as the door widened.

  She stared at Morgan with a combination of shock and irritation. He was shirtless. At the door. When he should have been hiding in the TV room.

  “You’re supposed to be watching a movie,” she said as he made way for her.

  “I was also supposed to call you if an unfamiliar vehicle pulled into the drive.” He reached for the plastic bags in her other hand.

  She let him have them because the handles dug into her fingers.

  “I was beginning to worry,” he said as he crossed to the kitchen island. “When an hour passed, I was concerned something had happened.”

  Brook said nothing. She didn’t owe him an explanation. It was a miracle the trip out had only taken as long as it had given the trouble she’d had at every stop. And he now had deodorant, a razor and combination body wash shampoo. Not to mention proper sleepwear so he wouldn’t have to snooze in the buff. He should be grateful.

  Morgan tugged light cotton pants out of the bag, arching a brow at her. “Is this a hint?”

  There was no good answer for that question. Brook popped the top off the pizza box so she could snatch a piece. A mouth stuffed with cheese and crust couldn’t be expected to speak.

  “I should see if they fit.”

  Brook tossed the pizza box on the island beside him and then started for the other room, all while avoiding glancing at him.

  “You could tell me how they look,” he called after her. “Unless you saw enough last night.”

  She froze where she was. Had that been a complaint or a dare? Did it matter when the answer was the same?

  Brook made a quarter-turn—only enough to see him out the corner or her eye. “You don’t need my approval to know if they’ll be comfortable for sleep.”

  “I want your approval.”

  This couldn’t end well.

  Especially when the snick of a zipper meant he was disrobing in the kitchen. Heavy fabric thudded to the floor. Morgan’s bare feet slapped the wood as he walked. He was fully visible beside the island with his boxers riding low on his hips and the sleep pants in hand.

  The view should have been domestic—a male comfortable in his kitchen. However domesticity was the last thing Brook thought of when she faced Morgan. When had he shifted from an annoyance to a sex object?

  Morgan flicked his elastic waistband. The boxers slithered down his hips, leaving nothing behind except skin lightly coated in golden hair, and a rapidly thickening cock.

  Turn away.

  But…this was another test. Brook could handle it. She lifted her chin, staring Morgan in the eye. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t going to work. No matter how her insides heated and her mind provided sensory reminders of how he’d touched her last night.

  She ignored the prickle of awareness that raised bumps all along her arms as he stepped into his new pants. Slowly he broug
ht the cotton over his knees and on up his thighs. The fabric caught beneath the jut of his erection. Morgan paused a beat, perhaps ensuring she’d noted his arousal, and then he loosened the cotton until he could capture the unruly appendage. Sporting a miniature tent, he turned for his own piece of pizza.

  Brook was no longer hungry for pizza. Without a word, she fled to the TV room and forced herself into a meditative pose.

  Morgan stared at the empty kitchen, painfully aware he was alone and sporting a raging hard-on. Brook had watched him disrobe. She’d spared glances for his cock. And she hadn’t shouted at him.

  She’d run.

  That was the last reaction he’d expected from the hard-nosed Ranger. How was he supposed to feel? Deciding that meant understanding why she’d fled. He was more likely to communicate with the squirrel running up the tree outside the kitchen window than get anything out of Brook.

  Although…

  She had been surprisingly forthright earlier.

  So Brook admired him? If he hadn’t wanted her before, he surely did now.

  New footsteps sounded like miniature shotgun blasts to his head. He gripped the counter, waiting for her inevitable blowup. Yet it never came. Instead she padded through the corridor and into a distant room without a word.

  Morgan listened for hints as to what she was up to now. Water pattering against ceramic gave him a crystal-clear answer. She’d turned on the shower.

  But why had she left the door open? Was it in the effort to keep an eye on his safety? She couldn’t let down her guard for five minutes after she’d left for over an hour? That didn’t add up.

  He stepped into the corridor, noting the light from the bathroom cast a conical glow on the corridor’s wooden floor. He’d heard correctly—she had indeed left the door open while she showered. Morgan eased around the last corner, peeking as he went.

  He choked on his next breath. Brook stood half nude with her arm in the shower surround, checking the temperature. Her skinny jeans were a sinful second skin that tormented as much as they covered, especially now that her chest was bared. Breasts every bit as pert as he’d remembered thrust high, begging for attention. Dusky areolas framed puckered nipples he could practically taste.

  She stared at him, defiantly sexy. Again he expected her to shout at him. Instead, her hand reappeared from the tub, settling at her waistband. Shockingly she unfastened the button. Slowly. Down the zipper came. Each tooth it traversed heated his blood another degree.

  Brook was disrobing. For him.

  An invitation? Or a dare? They’d both signed a contract. Less than twenty-four hours ago he’d vowed he’d do everything she said. He should walk away.

  Pink lace appeared between the V in the denim. All concerns of contracts and morality were instantly blotted out. She might be a hard-nosed Ranger but she was still a woman. And she wanted him.

  Her fingers crimped the stiff edges of her garment. She peeled them down, revealing healthy, toned muscles the likes of which he’d never seen in person. She was in peak physical condition—a requirement, he assumed, of her job.

  Brook kicked off her jeans and stood nude except for a tantalizing scrap of lace. She turned, revealing the fabric was practically nonexistent on her backside. Morgan gulped at the sight of the thin pink strip that disappeared between her firm ass cheeks. Never would he have guessed she’d wear something so sensual beneath her tomboy wardrobe.

  She reached for her clothes, thrusting her ass in the air as she did. It was too much. If her actions had been a dare, he’d gladly forfeit whatever prize if he could have her.

  Brook reached a finger back and slipped it beneath the upper portion of her thong as if the fabric were uncomfortable. And then she lifted it. The flash of her unguarded sex was the last straw.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when his tongue thrust into her pussy. Not given the cloud of lust Brook had sensed for the past half hour. But she’d not heard his movement over the water pounding the tile beside her. Nonetheless, he was there, knelt behind her and lapping for all he was worth.

  Brook clamped a hand over the rail on the glass door, swallowing down her startled gasp. Morgan’s rough tongue laved between her folds, discovering sensitive spots no one else had. Warmth swelled through her chest that had nothing to do with the steam filling the room.

  This was wrong. Against the rules. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop him from peeling away her panties.

  Brook bit back a moan as he hauled her ass back, spreading her for his invasion. A finger coiled around her clit and though the motion was gentle, Brook hissed at the instant flood of sensation. She smacked the glass, hardly able to hold herself up. The aroma of an ocean spray floated over her as if he’d emerged from a wave seconds earlier. Images of them entwined on the sand filled her mind.

  His grip shifted and then he stood behind her, hot, urgent and completely nude.

  “Morgan!” she said before he could do more than rest his cock against her back.

  His breath rushed into her ear. “No one will know.” His rasped words sent a thrilling zing to her nipples. “I won’t tell. They don’t have this place wired for video or audio, do they?”

  She’d done a sweep for bugs. It had been clean. But that wasn’t the point. “I’ll know.”

  “You’ll know what? That I wanted you so badly I couldn’t wait until you discovered who was attacking me before I had you?”

  Morgan reached around, slipping his hand between her legs. He cupped her mound and slid a finger into her folds. The delicate stroke drew shivers across her lower half and a moan she couldn’t hide. If he hadn’t realized she wanted him in return, he certainly did now.

  With dexterity she’d not given him credit for, Morgan twisted her by the shoulders. A single beat passed in which his eyes were visible in all their lusty glory before he fastened his mouth over hers. In that moment the ingenuous priest became a desperate man.

  Morgan cupped her jaw, tilting her head and holding her firm. He sucked in her breath as though it were the only cocktail that could sustain him. His tongue teased the tip of hers. Red sauce and his unique saltwater flavor burst over her taste buds. Morgan twisted his head left, right and left again, his lips pulling and possessing, tongue thrusting and conquering every bit of her mouth.

  Shock coursed through her—from the kiss, from the knowledge this was Morgan Seaton and from the stirring his intimate embrace caused. For a second she forgot they were nude—she imagined him clad in his tuxedo on the dance floor, kissing her in front of dozens.

  He tore himself away. Brook whimpered because it had ended too soon.

  “No one will know.” He held her gaze. “I swear to Neptune, Brook. No one.”

  I’ll know.

  That took on a new connotation now. It was too late to save herself from the memory of his kiss. Was that reason for or against continuing?

  Morgan abandoned his wait, dropping to his knees so he could tongue her nipple. Her head fell back as a long sigh escaped her.

  The battle was lost when he smoothed his hand through her pussy. Liquid desire surged, drowning her remaining arguments in her searing need for him. Brook dug her nails into his shoulders. And tugged him up for another of his stirring kisses.

  Morgan froze for as long as it took to decipher her actions. Brook had forced him to his feet. She had initiated this kiss. He slid his tongue through her parted lips, drinking in all she shared. She was water in a parched desert—a beautiful mirage he never wanted to dispel.

  His body operated on instinct and need. He hauled her hips forward, positioning himself at her entrance and then thrust with one clean motion. She gasped around his tongue—a feminine noise he would never get enough of.

  He stood, buried deep within her, soaking in the knowledge that he’d made her his in some small way. Finally. She stiffened around him—all motion infinitely obvious when he was balls-deep inside her.

  “Condom,” she said into his mouth.

  “Now
? I don’t have any diseases.” How could she think he’d expose her to anything like that?

  “And I’m not getting pregnant with a pureblood you can discard. Condom or get off me.”

  He hesitated, an image of her lifting his child into her arms tightening his chest.

  “Morgan.” Her impatience snapped him out of his fantasy. “Go before I cool down and realize the monumental mistake I’m making.”

  “It’s not a mistake.” He tore himself from her nonetheless. Morgan tramped nude into the kitchen where a foil packet awaited him in the pocket of his slacks. He ripped it open and rolled the rubber over himself on the trip back.

  The water turned off in the other room before he returned. Brook stood with her fingers splayed on the glass door, head bent and shoulders slumped.

  She’d realized the monumental mistake. He didn’t need an empathic link to note the regret in her pose.

  He grazed a palm beneath her elbow. Her breath hitched. Morgan reached for her chin, pulling it up. She shifted toward him with a fluid motion that only highlighted the dewy sheen on her skin. They locked gazes for one shining second before she smashed herself against him from her lips down to the smooth skin of her sex. Brook rubbed her rigid peaks along his chest and deepened their kiss. It was all the sign he needed to continue.

  He guided his cock to her passage, grinning at her sweet inhalation when his tip pressed to her opening. She surged forward. Morgan clamped down on a curse as her pussy tightened around him. Slowly he withdrew, hissing through each inch of her silky muscles. He exhaled on the return trip then began anew.

  She tossed a leg over his thigh and clawed him closer. Morgan plunged forward, conquering more of her body. Her uncharacteristic whimper tugged at his heart. She coiled her other leg around his hip. Morgan automatically gripped her to keep her aloft.

  He had her. Completely. She’d entrusted herself into his embrace. While that was perhaps the sweetest thing she could have done, it was also the sexiest. Morgan faced the door and dropped to his knees, taking her with him. He lowered himself to the fuzzy bath mat without releasing her hips.