Bodyguards In Bed

by Monroe, Lucy; Denton, Jamie; Naughton, Elisabeth

  Rebekah had steered Danusia toward the lab when she was feeling out of place and taught her that no matter her age, sex, or circumstance, this was somewhere she would always belong.

  So, Max wasn’t going to be her boyfriend? That wasn’t some big surprise, was it? And it didn’t mean Danusia had to abandon all the plans she’d been making since showing up in Roman’s apartment and discovering it wasn’t as empty as she’d expected it to be.

  She’d never had good sex, much less any in the amazing category. She just knew Max would be amazing. Even if she wasn’t all that great at it. She could learn and a man like him, he could teach her.

  She was tired of fantasies and loneliness. She didn’t know how long she had in the apartment with Max, but she was going to take advantage of whatever she did have.

  With that in mind, she went looking for her brother’s liquor supply. Not that he’d ever offered her a drink, though she’d been legal for more than three years now. Everyone in the family except her mom and baba treated Danusia like she was still a teenager. Mom and Baba? Wanted her married.

  A harsh laugh sounded. Right.

  She was better off married to her studies and one day to her own research.

  She found Roman’s alcohol supply in a cabinet in the living room. She supposed it was considered a mini-bar, but all she knew was that he had a truly impressive array of alcohol from all over the world.

  Even some good old-fashioned Ukrainian potato vodka, distilled and bottled by an official distillery. She was sure there was a bottle of her papa’s efforts in there somewhere too, but that was too special to drink on a whim. Or without permission. She pulled the vodka with the black label out of the cabinet and poured a finger each in two highball glasses.

  “Indulging in a nightcap, Professor?” Max asked from behind her.

  She hadn’t heard him come in, but this just meant she didn’t have to go looking for him. Turning, with a glass in each hand, she extended one toward him. “Join me.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He eyed the drink like it was a snake set to strike.

  Interesting. What did he have to be wary about?

  “Sure it is. How can you turn down vodka distilled in the Ukraine?”

  “Do you swear in Ukrainian like your brother?” he asked instead of answering.

  “Sometimes.” Worried, she asked, “Do you not drink? Should I have not offered this to you?”

  “I can hold my liquor just fine, but every soldiersucetter than to drink when he needs to keep his head.”

  “Why do you need to keep your head?” Was he planning on going out?

  “I’ve got five good reasons.”

  “Care to share them?”

  “Not really.”

  She looked at her drink, then back to him, trying to understand his reticence, but respecting it. It might be time to go to Plan B, getting herself tipsy enough she wouldn’t care if he was slightly lubricated or not.

  Then without warning, Max took the glass and slammed it back like a shot. He held his breath for a second and then let it out slowly. “Those Ukrainian moonshiners know their stuff.”

  She giggled. Which she never did, and she hadn’t even had a drink yet, but she followed his example, swallowing against the burn of the strong grain alcohol. “Papa says his grandfather made some of the best potato vodka in the world. Good for your liver.”

  Max gave that ultra-sexy laugh again. “Right. Does your father distill his own?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “You can tell me, I’ll keep your secrets.” He gave her a serious look, like he was making a promise.

  But she wasn’t going to read anything into the words. She was done wearing those fantasy-inspired, rose-colored glasses.

  She took his glass and turned back to the cabinet. “Like another?”

  “I think one is enough. For both of us.”

  “You do what you like, but I’m having another. If you don’t mind being outdrunk by five-feet-six inches of academia, that’s on you.”

  She poured again, this time two fingers of the clear liquid, and then slammed it back.

  Max made a sound that was suspiciously close to a growl and then he grabbed the bottle and poured his own double shot.

  He grinned wildly at her. “Here’s to Ukrainian brainiacs and Marine grunts.”

  She didn’t call him on the fact that he admitted to being a Marine and her brother was supposedly Army and yet they worked together. She simply nodded and gave him her own crazy smile. The alcohol was already hitting her.

  He shook his head afterward. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk to have your way with me.”

  Smart man. “Is it working?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “You don’t think?”

  “No matter how much I want you, or how drunk you get me, I’ve got enough control to stop myself screwing my friend’s baby sister.”

  She didn’t lie and say Roman wouldn’t care. They both knew he would. He wanted her settled down with another brainiac, off in a lab somewhere where she wouldn’t worry her family, hence the blind dates from hell.

  He didn’t want her getting more embroiled in his life, through his associates, or any other way. “Don’t worry . . . I won’t share your secrets,” she said, repeating Max’s words.

  He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  “That’s what I said. You don’t have to worry about me telling tales.” She wasn’t a blabbermouth.

  “We’re not having sex.” Well, that was blunt.

  But she could be blunt too. “You want me.”

  “Yes.” That single word held a wealth of meaning.

  He really wanted her, like seriously, really. Of course the growing and quite impressive bulge in his jeans said so even more than his affirmative.

  “I’m right here.” She pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Blunt was good. Action was better.

  He made a strangled sound in his throat and stepped back. “Ain’t going to happen.” But his eyes ate her up.

  And that was so hot, she couldn’t help posing a little. She might have felt stupid but for the alcohol and the way he watched her, like he was a sailor on leave and she was the first woman he’d seen after getting off the ship. No, even hotter . . . so hot, her skin burned.

  Her jeans came off almost as easily as her top. She stepped out of them. “Really?”

  She thought maybe it was going to happen. Max’s body for sure wanted it, no matter what his mouth said. She stretched and did a little turn. “All yours for the night.”

  “Shit. Piss. Damn. You shouldn’t have done that.” He spun away and practically sprinted for the guest bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded, even the warmth from the alcohol not equal to the chill of his blatant rejection.

  “Bed, where you should go too . . . in the other room, not mine.” He was babbling and it would be cute except for what he was saying. “Good night, Danusia,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

  Danusia stared down at her nearly naked body. Okay, she wasn’t a nearly six-foot-tall supermodel like her sister, Elle, but she wasn’t horrific either. And they hadn’t done anything yet, so he couldn’t know she wasn’t a perfect sex kitten between the sheets.

  Oh, she’d be happy to try, but no amount of reading made up for practical experience and hers had been pretty dismal.

  Her alcohol-muddled mind couldn’t decide what she’d done to send Max running. He’d said he wanted her. His body had shown it. Oh, how it had shown it.

  But he’d also said he had five reasons. Five reasons for not having sex with her.

  She needed to find out what those were.

  Because she wasn’t about to give up on the first man that could hold her attention when there was new data to decipher.

  CHAPTER 4

  Max woke to the smell of coffee and frying ha
m.

  So, the little professor was up and around already.

  His stomach growled, reminding him it had been a long time since dinner and he’d slept later than normal. He’d been awake half the night fighting the urge to go find Danusia and finish what she’d started with her impromptu striptease.

  He couldn’t get the image of her sexy, pale curves out of his mind and it’d haunted him right into his dreams too.

  She might be average in height, but her legs looked long enough to wrap around his hips just right.

  The matching sheer blue bra and panties she’d been wearing hadn’t left anything to the imagination either. Who would have thought the serious student would wear such sexy lingerie?

  He knew her nipple were a deep raspberry red when excited and that while her breasts would be a generous handful, her nipples weren’t overly large. He would have so much fun teasing them to swollen hardness though.

  Knowing her pubic curls were the exact same chocolate-brown shade as the hair on her head only made him want to play down there and see how much darker they looked when wet with her excitement.

  His morning hard-on liked the image so much it went from semi-hard to locked, loaded and ready. Shit.

  Not what he needed right now.

  And she wasn’t just sexy, she was sweet and hella smart.

  And she’d made coffee. And ham. Which usually meant some kind of eggs as well. His stomach growled again at the thought. Of course there was no saying she’d made enough for him, not after the way he’d rejected her the night before. Running away like the scared little boy Maxwell Baker had never been.

  Piss and damn.

  She was sitting at the table, drinking a mug of that delicious-smelling coffee when he made his way into the kitchen a few minutes later. She looked up and smiled, her expression nothing like what he expected from a woman he’d turned down the night before.

  She nodded at a covered plate on the other side of the table. “Your breakfast. It’s a good thing you got up when you did. Eggs Benedict are just nasty cold.”

  “You made Eggs Benedict? For me?” Where was hers?

  “Yep. I prefer fruit and yogurt for breakfast.”

  He looked pointedly at the empty spot in front of her at the table. She had only a cup of coffee.

  She shrugged. “I ate earlier. I never sleep very late when I drink the night before.”

  “Really?” He, as a rule, slept later and if he wasn’t careful, woke with a headache—even if he hadn’t drunk enough to get a hangover.

  “Yeah, just another way my brain doesn’t work like other people’s.”

  He sat down, pulling the cover off his breakfast. “Looks perfect.”

  “I followed the recipe.”

  He caught himself on a chuckle. “That’s good, I guess.”

  She nodded.

  He pulled his napkin from under the silverware to put in his lap and noticed a piece of paper beneath. It was blank except for the numbers one through five.

  He looked up at Danusia. She had that look in her eyes again, the one that made him wary. “What’s this?”

  “You said you had five reasons. I want to know what they are.”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “It does to me.”

  “Telling you what they are isn’t going to change the fact that they exist.”

  “Refusing to tell me what they are isn’t going to change the fact I want you and that you want me.”

  Well, hell. “Roman didn’t tell me you were so stubborn.”

  “It sounds like he told you plenty, even if he didn’t tell you that, which he knows by the way. In case you were wondering.” She sipped her coffee. “But, you know, it sounds like you and Roman have talked an awful lot about me.”

  “I guess.” He went for casual, but he knew he’d been caught.

  He could see it in her eyes.

  She confirmed it with her next words. “I wouldn’t think my brother would talk about me much, not without prompting, anyway.”

  “He’s proud of you.”

  “Still . . .” She gave him a look that dared him to deny asking about her.

  He shrugged. “I was curious.”

  “Because you wanted me.”

  “You’re blunt.”

  “It’s the scientist in me. You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes.” To both. He did want her and he really wanted to change the subject.

  His control had never been so close to the edge, which scared the hell out of him and excited him beyond reason too. It was almost a better adrenaline rush than going on assignment.

  Something in her grey gaze said she knew exactly what he’d meant by the yes. She nodded toward the paper with the numbers on it. “So, tell me why you can’t have me.”

  “I’m not writing it down.”

  “Afraid my brother will find it in the trash after you’re gone?”

  It was a serious consideration. “Look, if you can’t live without knowing, I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay, so talk, but don’t let your breakfast get cold.”

  He started eating and thought about how to approach telling her his reasons. Should he start with the biggest one and try to circumvent the need for the conversation?

  The stubborn tilt to her jaw said that wouldn’t work.

  He decided to start with the reason he figured she’d consider the most valid. She’d already shown she didn’t consider the fact she was Roman’s baby sister any kind of roadblock. “I’m not in the market for a relationship.”

  “So?”

  What the hell did she mean, so? “You’re a forever kind of woman.”

  “Tell that to the other men I’ve had sex with.” She shook her head, her expression nonplussed. “I don’t think they got the memo.”

  “You’ve had sex?” Of course she’d had sex. She was twenty-four, but other than the striptease the night before, she came off as Pure Grade A innocent.

  “My family might have sent me away from home when I was thirteen, but they didn’t send me to a nunnery.”

  “You had sex back then?” he asked, feeling queasy.

  She grimaced. “No, of course not. I was still a kid, but I’ve been an adult for six years.”

  “So, you’ve had sex.” He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around it.

  “Yes. Not mind-blowing sex, or even good sex actually, but I have copulated with members of the opposite sex.”

  “How many?” Oh, shit. “Forget I asked that.”

  “Why? You wouldn’t want me to ask you the same thing?” she guessed.

  He winced. “Something like that.”

  “You’re not a man-whore. If you were, you would have taken me up on my offer last night. Regardless of your reasons.”

  “You have a lot of faith in a man you barely know.”

  “You think you’re the only one who has asked Roman a few subtle questions?”

  He wasn’t touching that one. “So, the stupid assholes you’ve had sex with aside, youstill deserve more than a night rolling in the sheets.”

  “You won’t have sex with me because I deserve a relationship ?” she asked, sounding really confused and more than a little irritated.

  And if that wasn’t too damn adorable, he didn’t know what was. Which was not the way he was supposed to be thinking.

  “That’s one of the reasons, yes.”

  “Since I’m not expecting anything other than that mind-blowing sex I’ve only ever read about, that particular excuse is voided.” She spoke with a firm certainty that showed she knew how to argue for what she needed.

  More than that, she expected him to blow her mind?

  Who was he kidding? Blow her mind? If he got his hands on her, he wasn’t going to stop until she was past coherent and right into passing-out-from-pleasure mode.

  “You can’t just void a reason because you don’t like it.” He wished he was as sure as he sounded.

  “I can void an excuse that is dir
ectly linked to me and my feelings. You don’t get to make choices for me in that regard. No one does.”

  He could argue that he got to make choices about his own feelings, but that would be admitting he was experiencing emotions he didn’t usually. He’d rather drop the F-bomb during Sunday dinner at his mother’s when she had the pastor over.

  “We don’t even live in the same state,” he reminded her.

  “It’s only a six-hour drive from upstate New York to Boston, but I don’t even see how that excuse has any relevance since we both agree you aren’t looking for a relationship.”

  “You should be looking for a relationship.”

  “Who are you to tell me what I should be looking for?” There was that temper again, flaring in her voice and snapping like molten metal in her grey eyes. “If I want a break in the monotony of my own company, whatever the cost, don’t tell me not to go for it. Because what I deserve is a few lousy hours of not being alone.”

  She should have sounded desperate. Another woman saying it would have, but damned if he didn’t find himself agreeing with her instead of pitying her. The fact he was panting to touch her colored his view, he was sure.

  Still, he shook his head. “I know you don’t think it matters, but Roman is your older brother and he’s not only my boss, but he’s my friend.”

  “He’s your boss?”

  Shit. He never let stuff slip. “Yes.”

  “Don’t look so discombobulated. I told you, I’m good at finding out what I want to.”

  “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to use me to find out more about your brother’s life?”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” She jumped up from the table and started wiping down the already clean countertops. “I don’t use people.”

  He knew that. He did. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was a sacrifice-not-to-upset-others kind of person.

  He got up and went to her, laying one hand on her shoulder. “I believe you.”

  It wasn’t an apology, but he wasn’t great at those. Would it be enough?

  She turned to face him, her grey eyes swirling with things he couldn’t decipher and some that he could. Desire. Pain. Loneliness.

  “Your family has no clue, do theywas that t he asked her before he could stop himself.