Defended & Desired

by Kristi Avalon

  “Every time I look around, your regulars are glaring at me. Why do I feel like some red-headed step-child?”

  She glanced around the bar and realized he was right. Maybe coming here with Trey had been a mistake. She hadn’t brought a date here since the night… A chill ran through her. “Don’t worry about it,” she said and reached for her beer.

  “I’m not worried.” He lifted her chin until she met his eyes. “I’m curious.”

  Her chest tightened because she hadn’t discussed that night with anyone outside the bar besides Allison and Logan in nearly a year. “You were honest with me. I guess I owe you the same.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” He clasped her shoulder with a gentle, reaffirming touch. “I just want to understand what’s going on.”

  A swirl of apprehension snaked through her gut. She didn’t want to talk about Trevor. Not tonight. But Trey deserved to know the truth, the same respect he’d given her when he’d bared his soul about his past. “It’s a long story.”

  He set his elbow on the bar and propped his chin in his hand. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  His powerful presence and total attentiveness overwhelmed her. She scraped her beer label with her thumbnail. “It’ll sound stupid.”

  “Nothing you say could ever sound stupid.” The sincerity on his handsome face soothed her nerves.

  “Okay.” She exhaled a slow breath. “The majority of the guys I dated I’d met in the military or, later, men with similar careers in IT. Around the time Allison started working at Stone Security, I decided to try online dating.”

  Trey straightened. “I would’ve expected you to go that route first. Being a technology pioneer and all.”

  She shrugged. “I’d heard mixed reviews. Other women’s bad experiences left me leery. Finally, I decided what the heck, I’ll give it a shot. I viewed plenty of profiles, but no one really stood out or clicked. When Allison and Logan got together, and I saw the amazing connection they shared. While I wasn’t looking for forever, I missed spending time with someone.”

  “They’re a great couple,” he agreed. “Those two were definitely meant for each other.”

  She nodded. “The same week Allison found out she was pregnant with Logan’s baby, I received a message from the online dating service, from a man who struck me as unique and fascinating. He had military experience like me, and had gone on to pursue espionage tracking, cryptography, and he’d traveled all over the world.”

  “Sounds like the whole package,” Trey muttered, taking a long pull from his beer.

  “Sounded like that to me, too. We chatted through emails and texts, and the more we talked, the more I fell for him. When he asked to meet me for our first date, I suggested Jake’s.”

  “Here?”

  “I know everyone and thought it would be a safe, neutral place. If he turned out to be a cretin or the hunchback of Notre Dame, I knew my regulars here would have my back.”

  “Did they?” Trey asked, shooting dark looks at Mo and Mitch.

  “I never got through the door.” Terror and humiliation welled up in her throat at the memory, as if the incident happened yesterday. “I parked my car, got out, locked my doors, and when I turned around this guy was in my face.” She swallowed. “Without a word, he hit me, tied me up, and threw me in the back of his van.”

  “Jesus.” Trey’s jaw clenched. His dark eyes were pools of compassion and anger. “I’m sorry, Devon.”

  She focused on the beer label half-mauled by her fingernail. “I woke up to find myself bound and dumped on my couch.” Her eyes stung. “Like last week’s garbage.”

  “Who the hell was this guy?”

  “Trevor Hurtz, Allison’s psychotic, stalker ex-husband. He used me to get to her.”

  Trey gritted his teeth. “You got the shit end of that stick all the way around.”

  Nodding, she drained the bottom-third of her beer. “I wasn’t going to let him beat me. I came back to Jake’s a week after the incident, faced my fears, and told them what happened. Now they’re a little protective of me.”

  “I can see why.” He glanced at Mo and Mitch again, this time with a newfound understanding weighting his gaze.

  “Really, it’s no big deal. I got over it.” She really wished she hadn’t finished the last of her beer. She could use a little more liquid courage.

  Trey motioned to Mitch and held up two fingers. Two more shots arrived. Trey slid the empty beer out of her grasp and supplied her with a fresh one. She took several swallows, the whisky-and-beer combination making her head swim, a blessed relief from that horrible memory.

  “It’s kind of amazing you didn’t let that trap you or stop you from living your life.”

  Although, according to Allison, she was limiting herself by not accepting new opportunities to date. Well, she thought, notching up her chin. I’m sitting next to one fine opportunity right now.

  She snapped out of her dismal circumspection. “Anyway, sorry you had to endure the guys’ concerns about you. But if I brought you in here, they have to know I trust you.”

  Trey lifted his second shot glass. “Here’s to starting over, and to finding the right man who’ll treat you like the treasure you are.”

  She blinked away the sudden spring of tears and laughed, surprised how much lighter she felt telling him the dark truth that had haunted her for a year. “To waiting until a good one comes along.”

  They drank to the toast and set their empty shot glasses on the bar. His broad hand brushed the back of her neck, sending a welcome chill across her shoulders.

  He took a swig of his beer and sucked the foam off his upper lip. Then he ran his warm palm down her back. “Want to shoot some pool?”

  Immensely relieved he’d changed the subject, she nodded. “I admit it’s been a while since I played. You’ll probably be embarrassed by my lack of skill.”

  His eyes hooded seductively. “We’ll take it slow. Ease you back into the game.”

  She wondered if he was talking about billiards or sex. Desire tightened in her abdomen. “Let’s hit the jukebox first. This place is too quiet. We need some tunes.”

  With his hand planted firmly on her lower back, he steered her through the crowd of regulars. A few waved and smiled as she passed, asking how she’d been. She greeted them distractedly, her attention focused on how good it felt to be touched. Treated with care. Protected. Claimed.

  She grabbed a bill from her purse and fed it into the jukebox. “Mind if I select a few?”

  “By all means.” He spread his arms on either side of her, curving his hands around the sides of the machine.

  She punched in the code of the album and song she knew by heart. Lime Light blared over the speakers.

  He leaned forward. “You played a Rush song?”

  “Yeah. Neil Peart is the best drummer and lyricist who ever lived,” she defended. After unburdening her soul, her feisty edge returned.

  “Seriously. You like Rush.”

  “Do you have a problem with my taste in music?”

  “God, no.” He laughed. “They’re the greatest band on earth. I’ve just never met a woman who was into them.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not your average woman.”

  “I agree,” he murmured. His lips brushed her ear, creating a hot tingle that spread through her.

  They selected as many songs as her five dollars afforded. The entire time Trey towered over her, their bodies sealed together, clothes offering a thin barrier. She wanted to turn in his arms and lock lips in front of everyone. She typically hated public displays of affection, but Trey was quickly changing her mind. She’d never wanted a man’s touch so badly.

  After choosing their songs, they headed to the back room that was home to four pool tables. A server passed by to take their drink order.

  Trey arched his eyebrow. “Another shot?”

  She held up her hands. “Oh, no. I’ve reached my limit.” She ordered a beer, but he declined. She chalked th
e tip of her cue stick and slid him a teasing glance. “Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”

  He half-sat on the edge of the pool table beside her hip, folded his arms, and let his gaze travel slowly from her lips to her breasts and back again. “Is it working?”

  “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” She tossed her hair, indulging his flirtation with her own.

  He sighed and shook his head, a spark of challenge in his dark eyes. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t tempted me.”

  She threw her shoulders back. “You think I can’t handle you?”

  He leaned in and murmured against her temple. “Like you said. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  For such a big man, he moved with surprising grace. Like a huge, predatory panther circling the pool table, calculating his next move until he sank every ball except the eight.

  Then he missed.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re being too obvious, letting me win. But I appreciate the gentlemanly gesture.”

  He grinned. “I do what I can.” He lifted a shoulder casually. “It’s just a game.”

  “So this is just a game to you?” she questioned.

  He sent her a hard, heated look. “I only play the game when I plan to win.”

  She leaned over the pool table suggestively and sank the eight ball. Then she approached him and patted his shoulder. “Sorry for your luck.”

  He snaked his arm around her waist. “In this case, even when I lose, I win.”

  “I like the way you play,” she said.

  Desire crackled in the air like an electric current. “Good, because I’m just getting started.”

  Slipping from his grasp, she returned her pool stick to the wall-mounted rack and he did the same. When the last song they’d chosen ended, the sound of guitar chords echoed through the small bar. She nodded toward the stage. “Let’s go watch the band.”

  Without thinking, she took his hand. His fingers instantly locked with hers. A firm, unyielding grip that advertised exactly who she belonged to tonight.

  They resumed their seats at the bar, and he braced his feet on the rungs of her stool. His thigh slid against hers. She swiveled to face the stage, and he draped his arm across the back of her seat.

  Closing his eyes, Trey inhaled her scent of peppermint and peaches. It was all he could do not to lower his head and caress her bare shoulder with his mouth, then glide the back of his hand along her delicate collar bone where the thin strap of her top taunted him.

  How easy it would be to twine his finger around that strap and lower it down her arm, baring the tight curve of her breast to him. But then, he’d bare her to everyone else, and the thought struck the territorial instinct deep inside him.

  He needed to possess her. Completely.

  As the band played, she sang to most of the songs. Slightly off-key and adorable.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her, enjoying her pleasure, thrilled by her ease with him, her trust in him in spite of what had happened to her last year. His fists clenched involuntarily. If only he’d been here then. He would’ve knocked that bastard’s teeth into his throat. But, as he recalled, Logan had stepped up to that task.

  When the band started a new song, she leaped up from her barstool. “I have to dance to this one.”

  She joined four other women on the dance floor and stole the show, shaking her tight ass in those glued-on jeans.

  Every man in the bar watched her, absorbed by her beauty and her red-lipped smile. Possessive resentment raged hotly inside him. They had no idea how incredible she was beyond the physical. He couldn’t take much more of these letches staring at his girl. Usually, he wasn’t like this, but Devon had a hold on him he couldn’t shake.

  When a scruffy guy approached the dance floor, Trey’s blood pressure surged. He needed to get out of here and she was damn sure coming with him. He shot off of his barstool before the man came close enough to touch Devon.

  Trey reached her in a few determined strides and grabbed her hand. “We’re out of here.”

  “But the song’s not over,” she protested.

  “I’ll buy you the album.”

  He dragged her off the dance floor, threw another hundred on the counter, told the bartender to keep the change, and shoved her through the exit.

  Outside in the warm summer night, Devon dug in her heels and slowed him down. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re scowling.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Now you’re arguing with me.”

  “No, I’m—” He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I saw the time and decided we needed to go.”

  “Oh.” She folded her arms as they approached his car. “Why didn’t you say so, instead of dragging me off like a caveman?”

  He unlocked the doors and opened the passenger side for her. “I’ll try to refrain myself next time.”

  “I hope so.”

  He shut her door, walked around and slid into the driver’s side. Immediately, he lowered the convertible’s top. He needed wind in his hair, something to cool him off, or he’d go caveman on her again the second they walked through her door. After fifteen minutes of listening to the radio instead of hearing her moans filling his ears, he finally pulled into her driveway. His restraint hung by a thread. She reached for the keys to her place, and he lost the battle of keeping his hands to himself. To hell with not crossing the line. He’d handle the consequences later.

  The moment she opened her door and stepped inside, he yanked her against him. Then he kicked the door shut with his heel.

  Locking his arms around her, he lifted her off the ground and seized her mouth with his. Her lips yielded, and he swept inside. Searching. Claiming. Conquering.

  Unlike her former hesitant responses, this time Devon let go. Her mouth turned soft and pliant beneath him, and her tongue curved around his.

  Heat snaked through his gut. He lifted her legs up around his waist, held her tight, and moved toward her couch. She combed her fingers through his hair and nearly brought him to his knees. He’d get there eventually, but not yet. He had plenty of exploring to do before his mouth settled between her thighs.

  He focused on the incredible way their tongues danced in a rhythm of give and take. Hers was the kiss of a woman who knew exactly who she was and exactly what she wanted. He loved that about her.

  When she exhaled, he inhaled. He wanted to own her breath, her taste, her heart. She belonged with him, whether she knew it yet or not.

  When his shins hit the couch, he lowered her to the cushions. Kneeling before her, he cupped her backside and yanked her against him. The juncture of her thighs pressed against his erection. He throbbed with the contact, his lower half begging him to strip her naked and sink into her moist heat.

  Again, he forced himself to go slow, even though he burned with the desire to take her nonstop, all night.

  “God, I want you,” he growled low.

  “I want you, too,” she whispered and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Immediately, he took that as an invitation to undress her. He slid the straps off her shoulders. Pulse pounding, he dragged his mouth along her jaw and caught her earlobe with his teeth. She inhaled sharply.

  As he moved his lips down the slender curve of her neck, his breath misted on her skin in a hot trail. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Unable to help himself, he swept his tongue between the shallow cleavage of her pert breasts.

  Not enough. Needing her naked, needing to taste her, memorize every nuance of her sexy body, he slid his palms over her shoulders. In one swift move, he brought the straps of her tank stop down her arms, baring her tempting breasts.

  The perfect curves sent an arrow of lust straight to his cock. He descended on one breast, cupping the creamy mound and drawing it into his mouth. When he grazed his teeth along her firm nipple, she whimpered and tossed her head back.

  Leaving his shirt half-unbuttoned, she raked
her hands through his hair, eroding his thin restraint. His muscles hardened, resisting the primal urge to tear off her jeans and panties and drive himself into her heat. All too ready to comply, his cock thickened and lengthened painfully.

  When he moved to her other breast, teasing her nipple, Devon’s arms circled his waist. Her fingertips dipped below his belt and her hands fisted in his shirt. She pulled the material until it gave free, then slipped her hands beneath and ran her palms along his bare back.

  Her touch sent him soaring into erotic overload. He’d imagined this moment, fantasized about being with Devon for nearly a year. The reality beat the hell out of any fantasy and he fought to hold back the force of his need. Her pleasure came before his.

  Damn. He had to taste her. Make her come. Hear her scream his name.

  Now.

  His shirt still half-unbuttoned, he hauled it over his head, tossed it to the floor, then captured her nipple between his lips. She released a velvety moan and smoothed her hands over his biceps and shoulders as he released her nipple then traveled lower.

  After swirling his tongue against her navel, he unfastened her jeans and slid down the zipper. The black lace of her panties came into view. Fixated on the spot, he smoothed his thumbs over the silky undergarment.

  “Trey,” she urged him, lightly scratching her nails along his forearms.

  “I won’t rush this,” he warned. His gaze leveled with hers. “I’m going to take my time, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  Her eyes glittered over-bright, cheeks stained hot pink. “I guess not.”

  He peeled her jeans over her hipbones, and eased the lace edge of her panties down with his thumbs. He bent and kissed her abdomen, flicking her skin with his tongue, lower, lower, until his tongue traced the line of lace that separated him from her intimate taste. Her scent filled his senses and made him light-headed with need.

  He couldn’t wait to press his mouth against her—

  A sudden ringing came from over his shoulder, like the resonant drone of Tibetan bells.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  He straightened and turned at the waist toward the sound. “What the hell?”