Guarding Raine (Security Ops)

by Brant, Kylie

She shook her head. “No one. I didn’t mention it because I was hoping . . .” Her voice trailed off. She’d been hoping that this whole mess would clear up before she had to explain to anyone. She’d thought that perhaps, once the security measures were completed, the letters would have stopped or the harasser would have been caught or . . .” She shook her head. She was no longer sure what she’d thought.

  But she was sure what she didn’t believe. “I can’t imagine how anyone other than my friends would know about my mother’s health, and none of them would do anything like this. It’s too ludicrous to contemplate.”

  He surveyed her over his beer bottle. She wasn’t ready to believe that anyone close to her could be capable of this kind of evil. He couldn’t blame her. It would be damn hard for most people to consider. He wasn’t going to push her any further on the subject tonight. She’d already been through enough today, and had held up damn well, too. She was shaken, it had taken conscious effort on her part, but she wasn’t down for the count. Raine Michaels had more moxie, more sheer guts than most men he knew. He couldn’t help but admire that.

  Setting the bottle down carefully, he said, “If you haven’t told anyone that I’m staying at the house, whoever planned this thought he could get you out by yourself. So we’re going to continue to let him think that. I’ve been putting my truck in your garage—I’ll keep doing that. Once the workmen have left, we’re going to let him think I’ve gone with them.”

  Her gaze moved to the horizon. The sun had long since gone down in a brilliant, glorious display. “You think that will draw him out?”

  “It could.”

  “And then what?”

  Mac chose his words deliberately. “Well, if we’re real lucky the police will step up their efforts and find the person behind this.”

  She looked at him silently, waiting for the rest of his thought.

  “If not,” he said bluntly, “I’m going to have to get the bastard myself.”

  His tone was chilling and full of purpose. Their eyes met, and she had no doubt that he would do as he said. He would accomplish what the police had so far been unable to. He’d find whoever was responsible for harassing her, the person who had almost killed her today, and he would stop him.

  Unquestioning certainty filled her at the realization. For the first time since she was fifteen years old, she had complete and total faith in another person. No, she corrected herself. Not another person. In one person.

  Macauley O’Neill.

  Raine came awake with a start, her heart pumping in a familiar terrible rhythm, her breath coming in pants. She should have known better than to try to sleep tonight. But she thought the long, hot bath Macauley had recommended, coupled with the glasses of wine, would work their magic on sore muscles and an exhausted mind. And so they had, for a while. Until a dream-induced replay had awakened her.

  The red digits on the clock at the bedside glowed twelve o’clock. She’d been asleep less than an hour. Chances for a return to slumber were slight, at least for a while. She stared out at the night fixedly. The full moon of a few weeks ago had splintered to less than a quarter now, adding to the darkness of the sky. She took deep breaths, from long practice familiar with the tricks it took to calm a body in flight mode.

  But the old tricks weren’t working well tonight. Deep breathing didn’t calm her nerves, didn’t chase the chill from her skin. She wasn’t sure what would.

  Mac heard the ragged breathing coming from her room as he passed it on his way to his own. He poked his head in the doorway, unsurprised when he saw the small figure sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her knees. “Raine.” His voice was low. She didn’t answer, and he took a reluctant step over the threshold. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, then, aware he wouldn’t be able to detect the movement in the dark, tried to speak. “Yes.”

  The ache in her voice negated the meaning of the word. He came farther into the room, reaching for the light, but she forestalled his movement toward it.

  “No,” she commanded, her voice quiet but even. “Leave it off.”

  His hand hovered at the switch for a moment before dropping. He’d never questioned the extra light plates, but had been aware shortly after he’d first come here that extraordinary efforts had been taken so that Raine would never have to be in the dark if she didn’t want to be.

  He hesitated. Every well-honed instinct he had screamed at him to back out of this room. This woman needed nothing he could give her, because he was empty himself. His feet moved with a life of their own, rounding the corner of the bed.

  Raine’s eyes stayed trained on him as he moved through the room. He’d removed his shirt. Even in the dim moonlight that filtered into the room, it was easy to discern the power in his muscled torso.

  “Can I get you anything?” The words hung in the air. He’d obviously been on his way to his room from the bathroom down the hall. She knew that he would be clean-shaven. Her nostrils flared in appreciation at the slight scent of soap and after shave.

  She shook her head, and this time he was close enough to her to see the action. He crossed in front of the window, and she caught her breath. For an instant he stood there, silhouetted against the sky, a portrait of shadows, dark against dark. And then he continued his approach until he was standing next to her.

  “I can’t . . .” She took a huge breath. “I dreamed about today.” She tried a laugh that sounded more like a gasp. “Why is it always scarier in the nightmare?”

  Mac sat on the edge of bed gingerly. “Recycled adrenaline?”

  “I guess.”

  “When something like this happens, a person is in shock, operating to a large extent on instinct. Survival takes over and emotions are left behind. I guess when we sleep the emotions take over.”

  “Their so vivid,” she whispered. “The dreams are Technicolor horror shows, every time.”

  The dreams. She wasn’t talking only about tonight—couldn’t be. But he knew what she was saying. The unconscious had a way of opening even the most tightly locked mental doors in the sleep process. And sometimes that produced unpleasant nocturnal phantoms.

  He wondered about her nightmares. What would cause a woman like Raine to suffer from them? He knew from experience that guilt would do the trick, but she had nothing to feel guilty for, he’d bet on that. She was too sweet, too decent. No, something else had to have happened to her. An experience of such trauma that stress would induce a reenactment of it at night. He wanted to ask her about it, but knew he didn’t have the right.

  Her hand reached for his and squeezed it tightly. He stared at her, able to make out her features in the shadows. He understood what it was like to wake up shaking and alone in a sweat-soaked bed. He’d accepted it stoically as a part of his life. He hated to think of it as a part of hers.

  Without conscious thought his mouth lowered. He wasn’t a master at comfort, hadn’t had enough gentleness in his life in the last fifteen years to remember how to convey it. But he knew she needed something from him. He ignored the voice inside him that said she needed more than he could afford to give.

  His lips pressed against hers and his tongue outlined the silky moist seam of her lips. Again and again he traced delicately before bestowing a parting kiss at the corner of her mouth. When he would have drawn away, he became aware of the small, delicate hand that had risen to lie against his bare chest. It traveled upward with exquisite slowness, over his corded shoulder, around his neck to tangle in the longer hair at his nape. Then it exerted its own inexorable pressure to bring his mouth back to hers.

  Mac hesitated for an instant, but she leaned forward, and he couldn’t swear that he didn’t meet her halfway in a kiss that was more than the first had been, much more. This time her lips parted slightly for him in an invitation he didn’t want to resist. His tongue swept in boldly, staking a claim that he would have denied with conscious thought. Her mouth twisted under his, meeting his demand with one of her own. Her other hand joined t
he first, and she pressed his head closer.

  Mac obliged, giving her the kind of pressure that he was craving himself. He leaned over her, obeying the pressure of her hands to lie full length next to her. She shifted to face him, and he became aware of the silkiness of her nightgown and of the small breasts pressed against his chest.

  He broke the kiss then, his breath coming roughly. It was time to get out of here, time to run like hell. He couldn’t do this to her, and he sure didn’t need any further complications in his own life. He reached in back of him and grasped one of her hands, peeling it away from his neck and pressing it to the mattress. On the way his wrist touched her breast, and the contact sent an immediate electrical impulse to his groin.

  He groaned, and she shifted again, either by accident or design. But the next movement his hand made wasn’t to push against the mattress to leave. Instead he captured one silk-covered breast, fingers exploring urgently. It was fuller than he’d expected, filling his palm precisely, as if fitted for his touch. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple and she gasped, moving helplessly. He didn’t try to think anymore. Thinking would have stopped this madness and he was no longer sure he wanted it to end. He made it a point to avoid women like her, forever women, pure of heart. A man like him didn’t deserve such purity in a woman, didn’t look for it. But tonight he was incapable of turning away from it.

  He hooked a finger in the narrow strap of her nightgown and dragged it down her arm. Then, with great anticipation, he pulled it away from her to bare her breast. His breath hissed out as he viewed the small mound, the nipple tightly drawn, taunting him. He lowered his head again and took her into his mouth.

  A broken cry came from Raine as she felt the hot, warm suction. Her nipple was unbearably sensitive as he sucked at it and lashed it with his tongue. When he pulled his head back, the cooler night air stung. Leaving his hand to comfort it, he turned his attention to its twin.

  She murmured brokenly, clasping his head to her. So this was what it was like, she thought wonderingly, dizzily. This spiraling pleasure that bordered on pain, a delicious anticipation of . . . something. Something out of reach. One of his jeans-clad knees moved between her legs and pressed against her softness.

  That pressure was stirring an answering heat, and Raine was no longer content to be the passive recipient of Mac’s touch. She wanted to explore him. She couldn’t get over the thrill of being wanted by this man. She wasn’t completely inexperienced, but she’d never known these shivers of pleasure that skated across her skin in the wake of his fingers.

  Her hands wandered across his wide shoulders, fingers flexing, sting the tensile muscles there. She lowered her hand to his chest, feeling the crispness of the dark hair covering it. She kneaded her fingers against him, like a cat, and he lifted his head from her breast to gaze at her. He pushed into her exploring fingers, and she obeyed the unspoken demand. Both hands stroked him, learning the exact boundary of the triangle of chest hair, fingers threading through it to massage its muscled planes. When one of her fingers glanced over the male button of his nipple, a harsh sound came from deep in his throat. Summoning up all her courage, Raine moved to flick her tongue at the nipple, then closed her teeth around it with delicate precision.

  He withstood the exquisite torture for long moments before pressing her back to the mattress. One hand reached for the hem of her short gown and brought it up, over her head, tossing it aside. Now his hands could explore freely, and explore they did. Her skin was soft, as silky as the nightgown had been, and he couldn’t get enough of her. Her legs were smooth and firm, and the thought of her wrapping them around his waist made his gut clench. He wasn’t thinking anymore about how wrong this would be, how wrong he was for her. In the back of his mind he assured himself that he wouldn’t allow this to get out of hand, but his hands sliding over her naked skin called him a liar.

  She needed him tonight in a way he couldn’t quite comprehend, yet recognized He couldn’t ever remember being needed this way before, and it was a seductive snare.

  His hands were gliding everywhere, leaving a trail of heat in their path, but suddenly that wasn’t enough for Raine. She clutched his back, rubbing her hands along his vertebrae with long, smooth strokes. She met the waistband of his jeans, then, and the tips of her fingers delved beneath the loosened band.

  Mac rolled away, every last instinct he had screaming a warning. This had progressed too far, too fast. He’d feel like a bastard for calling an end to it now, but not as much as if he was to go through with this.

  Raine’s hands moved to his front and she pressed against him as her fingers played with the open button on his jeans. One hand tugged at his zipper and he groaned, catching the errant hand, but not before it finished its task. Bringing her palm to his lips, he pressed a kiss into its palm. “No, honey, we can’t.” Whatever else he’d been about to say was lost as her mouth opened over his, sealing the words with liquid fire. He pressed her against the pillows, the pressure of his mouth a tale of frustration. She accepted his kiss, reveled in it as his lips moved on hers without gentleness. Her other hand crept to the open fly of his jeans and touched the hard length of him. He groaned into her mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against hers. She freed him from his briefs, her other hand joining the first to stroke him wonderingly.

  He gritted his teeth against the urge to thrust into that sweet touch, but when he heard her soft sound of discovery, he knew he was lost. Her gentle fingers skated over his turgid length, as if laying claim to uncharted territory. One small hand slid down his shaft and cupped the heaviness at its base. Mac gave up the inner fight. He’d never be able to give her more than his protection, but he could give her this. He could give her tonight. Maybe it would be enough.

  With swift, economical movements he shucked out of his jeans and briefs. But he wasn’t too far gone to forget to pull his wallet out of his back pocket and remove a foil-wrapped package from it. He managed to roll the condom on and then took both her hands in his. Using his greater weight, he pressed her into the bed, caging her face with their hands, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Raine accepted his kiss, returning its wildness. Her body was bombarded with sensations, so many she couldn’t identify them all. He was stretched out full length on top of her, and she welcomed the weight. If she’d been more aware she would have been surprised at how right his touch seemed to her, but her awareness right now took a different focus.

  She wiggled beneath his hard, hair-roughened body, delighting in the slight abrasion. Mac raised himself on one elbow above her, and she dazedly opened her eyes at the cessation of his kiss. She gazed in silent wonder at the shadowy form above her, shoulders wide enough to block out the very slight light coming in the window. His features were shadowed, but she knew them. Her dark warrior. The camera in her mind clicked, freezing this picture into her memory. And then he moved, and all besides sensation was forgotten.

  He stared at her, noticing again how small she seemed beneath him. He was a big man, and he didn’t want to hurt her. She looked so fragile lying under him, but she didn’t act fragile. Her hands were skating all over him, lingering on his buttocks, squeezing the tight muscles there testingly.

  His head lowered to nuzzle her breasts, and his fingers moved between her legs. She started slightly at the contact, but he found the downy thatch of hair there and the nub of her desire. His palm pressed rhythmically against it. When her body moved helplessly, he sent a careful finger inside her moist channel.

  She uttered a broken cry as he explored her. Her body reflexively clenched around him, and suddenly it wasn’t enough. She whimpered when he withdrew, but he immediately moved to replace his finger with his sex. The anticipation was too much, and she bucked a little in impatience for his entrance. A hard, satisfied smile crossed his mouth at her eagerness, and he knew she was as ready as he was. He positioned himself between her thighs and, tightening his buttocks, began to enter her. Her gasp mingled with his groan. He reache
d down to capture one of her knees in his arm and gently pressed it back against her thigh. Taking advantage of the way the position opened her to him, he inched inexorably farther until she had accepted all of him.

  Her breath was coming in little gasps against his lips. She was so silky tight, he could feel the delicate inner pulsations as she adjusted to him. He waited for a moment, savagely savoring the pleasure. Then he began to move.

  Each movement sent him deeper inside her, and Raine responded instinctively, reaching for something that only he could bring her. Her hands skated along his shoulders and back, and her head tossed restlessly against the pillow, evading his mouth. He reached between their bodies, rubbing against the pleasure point he’d found earlier. His ministrations, coupled with the powerful thrusts of his body, combined to send the world skittering away. All she was aware of was Macauley, his muscled torso above her, his smooth jaw pressing against her own, his breath sounding in her ear. She moved more frantically beneath him, and he quickened the pace of his thrusts. No longer was he controlling the depth and frequency of his movements. He was out of control now, as much as she was, straining together in a frenzy that abruptly shattered as Raine crested.

  Capturing her cries in his mouth, Mac surged heavily against her, once, twice and again, before the pleasure slammed into him. Waves of ecstasy crashed over him, washing away the icy shadows in his soul.

  Raine came half awake as a sudden chill chased over her skin. She opened her eyes enough to see Macauley pull the sheet over her shoulder. She watched, silent, as he pulled on his jeans. The sky outside was a dull gray, signaling dawn’s approach. His back was to her, and his movements were uncustomarily jerky. Slowly she slid up to a sitting position, a foreboding presentiment filling her.

  “Macauley?” she whispered, and reached out to touch the smooth expanse of back exposed to her. He moved away from her touch, and she dropped her hand. More eloquent than any words, that flinch had heralded what was going to happen next.