The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  She’d been totally smitten by his muscles and his smile.

  But Roney had turned out to be a snake. When she refused to go down on him after he’d paid for their movie tickets, the next day he’d taped tampons all over her locker at school. For months she’d been known as the Tampon Queen. Worse, one of her rivals for Roney’s attention, smarmy Debbie Duncan with the biggest tits in tenth grade, had photographed the display for the yearbook so the joke had followed her all through high school.

  Oblivious to her turmoil, the sergeant simply stared at her as if she was a madwoman, then allowed her to escort him to the hall. But before she could shut the door, he wrapped his long, wide fingers around her hand where she was clutching his arm. Heat speared her and rippled up her spine.

  He suddenly released her as if he’d felt it too and didn’t like it any more than she did. “If you need anything or receive a threat, Miss Woods, I’ll be right outside.”

  His gruff voice—and the hint of concern in it—sent a wave of uncharacteristic emotion through her.It had been a long time since anyone had cared for her.

  Well, except her father. And he was related. And his type of caring was smothering.

  The very reason she’d avoided real relationships.

  Besides, this man was just doing his job, she reminded herself.

  “Thank you, Sergeant, I’ll remember that.” Suddenly feeling like a cad for sticking him in the hall, she grabbed a blanket off the couch and shoved it at him. Her hands met his rock hard stomach though, and a wave of unexpected desire shot through her.

  A small smile quirked at the side of his mouth which revealed a slight dimple in his cheek and made him look so handsome that her breath stalled in her chest.

  Sergeant Max Murdock’s presence was dangerous. He was much more of a threat to her than the so-called one her father had sent him here to guard against.

  Thankfully her BCP jangled again, saving her from herself, and she closed the door again then raced inside to answer it.

  Maybe virtual sex with a stranger would alleviate her tension and keep her from wanting real sex with her bodyguard.

  * * *

  Max stretched out on the floor using his duffel bag as a pillow and stared at the cracks in the whitewashed ceiling.

  Night one of his seven nights of leave.

  A big fat bust.

  What would happen if the general didn’t resolve this threat by the time his leave ended? Would he assign another man to protect Willow and send him back into combat or force him to stay here and watch his precious daughter?

  Combat would be less agonizing.

  Then again, maybe the police would resolve the threat in the next day or two, and he could still salvage a few days of R & R. Smiling at the thought, he shut out images of Willow’s sexy body in that sports bra and jog shorts from his mind. Seriously doubting the threat to her was as imminent as her father feared, he closed his eyes and decided to get some sleep. Hopefully he was so exhausted that the nightmares wouldn’t plague him tonight.

  Thankfully his training had taught him to be a light sleeper so he would hear her if someone broke in and she screamed for help.

  But with his eyes closed, his fine-tuned senses from being on the job and the bug propped in his ear, he could hear every sound the woman made. She was moving around in the apartment, opening the refrigerator, humming, which sounded strangely erotic—even if she was off-key—then pouring another glass of wine, breathing, sighing, breathing some more...

  Just the way she breathed and sighed all soft and husky and feminine-like was enough to drive a man insane.

  He punched his duffel bag and rolled to his side.

  Couldn’t she just crawl in bed and go to sleep? Did she have to drive him nuts by...by being awake and in there alone, all sweat-slicked skin and female body parts?

  Then her voice echoed soft and low. “Yes, lover boy, it’s me. Sorry I couldn’t answer before, but someone was at the door.”

  Lover boy? So Willow did have a boyfriend. Or at least a lover. Did the general know?

  He needed to know in case the man posed a danger, but he couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the line, just Willow.

  “Yes, I’ve been waiting all day for this.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “What am I wearing?” A short pause, and he heard the rasp of her moving. Maybe onto the bed sheets?

  “A fiery, red lace bra and panties,” she purred. “You want me to take them off?” A soft sultry laugh, then another pause, and Max silently groaned. Dear God, was she doing what he thought she was doing?

  “I’m unfastening the bra now. The front clasp.” Her throaty whisper filled the air and tore at him in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Yes, my breasts are spilling over the top of the lace.” Pause. “They’re big, but not too big.”

  Hell, they were damn near perfect. He shifted and punched his duffel bag. But Willow could not be having phone sex. Not the general’s daughter!

  “My nipples...what shade are they?” A husky sigh. “No, not pink. A deep, dusty bronze color.”

  Dear God...

  “I’m touching them now. Running my fingers over the tips....” Another throaty sound. “Yes...they’re stiff. Aaaah...it feels so...good.”

  Max’s body hardened, his blood starting to pump.

  “Now the panties. I’m standing in front of the mirror, peeling them off.” Pause. A deep breath. “Yes, slowly. Inch by inch. Over my hips. Down my legs. Did I tell you my legs are long?”

  She didn’t have to. He’d seen almost every long inch of them, and they were heaven. And he wanted them wrapped around his waist while he plunged his cock inside her.

  Her voice grew raspy, “Close your eyes. Can you see me now?”

  Yes, in his mind, he could. And if he went back through that closed door, he could see her for real...

  “You’re naked, too. Yes...I’m touching myself, but I wish I was touching you.”

  He wished she was touching him, too...

  “Yes, baby... I like your tongue sweeping across my skin...” Her breath grew shallow. “And your fingers...oh, please touch me down there. Yes, lower, lower, I’m so wet...I’m opening for you...”

  His body hardened, aching so bad he thought he’d explode.

  “Deep down, lover boy, deep...” She was panting now and so was he. Then she shocked him again by murmuring a few erotic words in German.

  Erotic words that he’d never expected the general’s daughter to know.

  Suddenly footsteps clamored up the stairwell in back, and the door to the hallway opened. Max glanced down at his straining erection, then jerked his duffel bag in his lap as an elderly woman with a gray bun and round wire-rimmed glasses strode toward him, her granny shoes clicking as she peered down at him.

  He froze at the sight of the baseball bat clenched in her hands.

  “What kind of pervert are you?”

  In his ear, Willow continued, “Yes, lover boy, I’m coming, I’m right there with you...” A low moan, a groan, more breathy sounds...

  Irritation cut through Max. Couldn’t the old lady go away until they were finished?

  Err, until Willow was finished.

  She swung the bat up in a threatening stance. “Stand up and raise your hands above your head, or I’ll call the police.”

  Max lifted his hands to remove the earphone, but the woman wielded the bat as if she was about to knock his head off. “Don’t move, or I’ll cream you,” she said in a lethal tone.

  As lethal as a ninety-pound woman with arthritic fingers and bony legs could sound.

  Dammit, while she was about to kill him, Willow was sighing and eliciting a symphony of erotic moans.

  “Do it,” the old woman commanded.

  Max moved slowly and eased the duffel bag to the floor. Thankfully the loose fatigues helped camouflage his condition. The old woman’s scowl did the rest, so he lifted his hands. Then he noticed a gangly young man, probably twenties, wi
th bug eyes standing behind her.

  “Are you stalking Willow?” the man asked.

  “No, I’m not a stalker. My name is Sergeant Max Murdock. I’m here to protect Miss Woods.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Protect her?”

  “Yes, I’m a bodyguard.” He jerked his head toward the apartment. “Just open the door and ask Willow. She knows I’m here.”

  “If that’s true, why are you in the hall?” the man asked.

  Max gritted his teeth. “Because she likes her privacy.”

  The man muttered a sound of disbelief while the old woman kept lasering Max with her eyes.

  Max started to lower his hand to retrieve his ID, but she poked the bat into his chest. “Don’t you dare pull that thing out.”

  Max choked on a cough, then cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. I was just going to show you my military Id.” Dammit. He would be the laughingstock of his unit if a grandma took him down. “Please, just ask Miss Woods. She’ll verify who I am.”

  Suspicion flared in her eyes, and she waved the bat at him again, but finally she relented and knocked on the door.

  Max wondered if Willow would hear it or if she was still in the throes of her orgasm, panting and moaning so loud she’d miss the sound.

  * * *

  Willow cursed a blue streak at the sound of the knock. For cripe’s sakes, what did Sergeant Sexy want now? She still had another call to make.

  Grabbing her robe and sliding it on over her sports bra and shorts, she flipped off the Zumba DVD she’d been working out to while she handled her client, and tried to steady her breathing. She hadn’t even had time to do the warm down.

  But since she’d started this phone sex business, she was in the best shape of her life.

  The experts were right—sex was great exercise.

  Knotting the belt around her waist, she swung open the door, ready to give the sergeant a piece of her mind. But Ms. Dora was standing beside him with a baseball bat and a frown that could make grown men fall to their knees and beg for mercy.

  Dora’s grandson, Pete, stood beside her, looking worried. “Is everything all right, Willow?” Pete asked.

  Willow twisted her hands together. Poor Pete. He was a sweet guy, but awkward, thin and a foot shorter than her. Compared to Sergeant Murdock, he looked about fourteen, not thirty.

  He was also so passive that if she was in trouble, she couldn’t imagine him fighting someone for her. The reason Dora held the bat.

  “I’m fine, you two. But thanks for checking.” She waved toward the stairs. “You can go on back to your place now.”

  “What about him?” Pete asked.

  Willow shrugged. “He’s harmless.” At least she wished he was. “I’ll explain to your grandmother.”

  Dora turned to Pete. “Go on, Pete. I need to talk to Willow alone.”

  Pete looked skeptical, but he gave Dora a peck on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything, Grandma.” He glanced at Willow. “You, too, Willow.”

  “I will.” Although Pete wouldn’t even kill a spider if she needed him to.

  He disappeared, and Dora shot the sergeant a curious look.

  “You’re sure he’s not a Peeping Tom,” Dora said.

  Sergeant Murdock gave her a beseeching look, and Willow couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

  His beseeching look turned to a condemning glare. “Please explain to this woman the reason I’m here,” he said tightly.

  His gaze raked over her robe and traveled south, and she sucked in a sharp breath. When he lifted his eyes, a dark sexual look flared in the depths. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he had a burgeoning erection inside those camouflage pants.

  Which really were camouflaging nothing. Not his big dick or those tempting muscular thighs.

  Her nipples actually tingled. She folded her arms to stem the reaction, then smiled at her boss. “Dora, it’s all right. I have the situation under control.”

  Dora narrowed her eyes at Max, then pushed her way inside, cornered Willow behind the door edge and whispered. “He’s not one of your...callers, is he?”

  Willow shook her head, then lowered her voice. “No, of course not.”

  “Because you know I don’t allow house visits – ”

  “Yes, I know. And it’s not like that, Dora. Really.” She clutched the woman’s hand. “My father had a scare and decided to saddle me with a bodyguard for a few days.”

  “But we can’t have a strange man sleeping in the hall.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s not dangerous,” Willow said.

  Dora cut her gaze toward the apartment down the hall. “But Maybelline called and she’s nervous. She thought he might be a cop.”

  “Well, you can assure her there’s nothing to worry about. He’s not a cop. And he won’t be a problem. He’s, um... gay.”

  “That man is gay?” Dora’s eyes brightened. “Really? I never would have thought—”

  “Yes, he is.” Willow whispered hoarsely. “I think he might even be into cross-dressing.”

  “Cross-dressing?” Dora gasped. “Well, I never...”

  “I know, he hides it well, being in the military and all,” she said dramatically. “Really, my father is tolerant about those things. Besides, he would never send a straight man to watch me.”

  “Oh, I see,” Dora said with a twinkle in her eyes. “What a shame. Why are all the good-looking ones gay?”

  “I don’t know,” Willow said dramatically. “But you have nothing to worry about with him hanging around.”

  “Good, just don’t let him distract you.”

  Distract her? Heck, yes, he was going to be a major distraction. “Oh, no, don’t worry. He won’t be a distraction at all.”

  Sergeant Murdock poked his head in. “That’s right, Dora. And since I am so safe and gay,” he said through clenched teeth, “and your other tenant is nervous, I’m sure Willow wouldn’t mind if I bunk down on her sofa.”

  Giving her a dark look that indicated he’d overheard every word they’d said and didn’t appreciate her lies about his sexuality, he strode past her, tossed his duffel bag on the floor beside her sofa then sat down, his legs spread wide.

  Willow pressed her arms against her chest more firmly to quiet her raging hormones and forced herself to smile as she said good night to Dora and ushered her out the door. All that sex talk with a stranger, then going unfulfilled and having a real live, macho sexy man in her apartment who could actually fulfill those unfulfilled needs was disconcerting.

  Worse, the lecherous, evil warning in his eyes suggested payback would be a bitch. And that he intended to pay her back.

  Befuddled, she ran to her bedroom and slammed the door. Drat.

  How could she sleep with him on her couch?

  And how could she make it through another phone call when she’d be fantasizing about his gruff voice murmuring erotic messages to her?

  And what if he overhead her and reported what she was doing to the general?

  He would have a major fit.

  She had to do something. Maybe tonight she’d allow the soldier to crash on the sofa, but come daylight, she’d kick his luscious ass to the curb.

  She rushed to the bathroom, flipped on the water then climbed in the tub. She faintly considered stroking herself to orgasm to release her tension while she bathed, but she was too afraid he’d hear her moaning, think she was in trouble and come running to rescue her. Although rescuing her from this frustration might not be a bad idea.

  No...she absolutely could not. Would not. No way.

  So she scrubbed and soaked until the water turned cold and her skin was puckered and blue, hoping her desires would wash down the drain with the water.

  Still, curiosity got the better of her, and she climbed from the tub, wrapped a towel around her and tiptoed to the door. She had to see what the tough guy slept in. Surely not those fatigues.

  Was he a boxers or brief guy? Or did he sleep in the buff?

  Her body tingl
ed at the thought, and she sneaked open the door just enough to peek.

  His back was bare, that much she could see, his shoulders broad and corded and slick—no ape-like back hair, thank the Lord. But with him sitting on the sofa with his back to her, she couldn’t see his skivvies. Or lack of them.

  She inched closer. She had to know.

  After all, she was only a woman.

  A weak one with an overload of estrogen building up.

  And despite her PSB, phone sex business, she wasn’t all that experienced, especially at seeing alpha men in the flesh.

  Besides, any woman with hormones would want to take a peek.

  He grunted, then she realized his cell phone was pressed to his ear. And his gun lay on the end table.

  She shuddered. He and her father were obviously taking this threat seriously.

  “No, man. This assignment sucks big time.” He paused. “I think she’s hiding something, too. I heard her landlord say she was worried about the cops.”

  Oh, no...he’d heard that? He couldn’t expose her and Ms. Dora.

  “Don’t worry,” he continued. “She’s definitely not my type.” A pause. “No, seriously. She’s a dog. Even if she wasn’t the general’s daughter and she threw herself at me, I’d rather be in combat than crawl in bed with her.”

  Willow swallowed back hurt, then darted back into her room, dropped the towel and looked at herself. She had been a major geek when she was younger. Braces. Glasses. Freckles.

  Too skinny. Too nerdy. Too shy. Too bookish.

  A butt of jokes by the men who served under the general.

  But what was wrong with her now?

  You’re a language major, she said silently. Still bookish.

  Although she was supposed to be learning how to communicate better. How to interpret languages as well as people’s behavior.

  She tried to objectively analyze her figure and see it from a man’s point of view. She tapped her breasts and they jiggled slightly, but at least they were where they were supposed to be and hadn’t dropped to her knees yet.