He kissed her inner thigh, then rose up and leaned over her to place a kiss on her abdomen. He ran his hands up her legs and over her hips, hating himself. His job required him to continue the ruse, to keep pretending he was the pharmaceutical company whistleblower. “Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity.” The FBI’s motto. What he wanted to know was where was the integrity in lying to Alyssa?
He couldn’t blame his job for the lies he was letting her believe. But his job hadn’t given him permission to have sex with her; he’d chosen to do that himself. As far as she knew, Noah Temple hadn’t been kissing her, Charles Rolston had—and it pissed him the hell off.
Regret ran deep when he stood and walked away from Alyssa. He grabbed up his pants and stepped back into them, then scooped up his shirt off the floor.
He didn’t want to look at her, but when she sat up, he found himself watching her. She looked uncomfortable, awkward and he hated himself for putting her in this situation.
“Where are you going?” she asked him. Her tone held a combination of caution and concern, and added to the guilt already eating away at him.
He shrugged into his shirt, then grabbed the towel off the dresser to hand to her. “I need some air,” he said because he didn’t have a better answer for her.
He shoved his hand through his hair. What the hell have I done?
She stood and fastened the towel back in place. “Chas? Is everything okay?”
No. Everything was far from okay, and judging by the hurt look on her face, she knew it, too. But he refused to tell her another lie, so he avoided the subject altogether. “Look, why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go grab a bite to eat,” he suggested. He swiped his BlackBerry from the nightstand, then walked out onto the balcony to give her some privacy while she dressed.
His body continued to ache for her, but he ignored his need for her and powered up his BlackBerry instead. Within a minute, he had a signal and found several text messages waiting for him. He quickly scrolled through them, and felt a surge of relief when he spied one from his SSA: MAINTAIN STATUS QUO. PRECAUTION ONLY GIVEN CIRCUMSTANCES. SUBJECT TESTIFIES TOMORROW. IN USM CUSTODY.
Not what he wanted to hear, but at least he did have some answers and an end game. Too bad his exit strategy was nonexistent. Still, as he’d suspected, Rolston was indeed in the custody of the U.S. Marshals, which more than likely meant the weasel had made a deal.
Dammit.
He’d spent weeks investigating and building a strong case against Rolston based on the SEC’s allegations of insider trading. And now the bastard was going to walk? It hardly seemed fair, but then he did understand the federal prosecutor had much bigger fish to fry by bringing criminal negligence charges against the men in charge at Bastian Pharmaceuticals.
Like any law enforcement officer, his job was to protect and serve. And if that meant letting a smoking hot mess of a bodyguard believe she was doing her job, then that’s exactly what he would do.
Even if it killed him.
CHAPTER 6
Alyssa didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or throw something—directly at Chas’s stupid head. She also didn’t know what she’d done to make him walk away from her right in the middle of having sex.
Almost having sex, she amended. But what they’d been doing up to that point had been pretty damned fantastic.
At least the rat bastard had satisfied her, quite nicely, too, thank you very much. A couple of times, in fact, before he’d gotten cold feet, turned chicken or just lost his ever-lovin’ mind.
Whatever his reason for abrupto interruptus, it had better be good. He’d just given her the best orgasm—ever—and she’d been more than anxious to return the favor. Who the hell walked away from that?
Oh, yeah. Chas did.
Her second time around in the shower, she took a cool one, then dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a lightweight, gauzy ruffled yellow tank. Surprisingly, she did have an appetite—strictly for food, however. No way was she putting herself out there like that again only to have him reject her the way he’d done.
“Who does that?” she asked her reflection as she applied a swipe of mascara over her lashes.
Maybe the question she should be asking was why he’d suddenly changed his mind. Had she done something wrong? She really didn’t have a clue. What switch on his libido had she inadvertently flipped?
After she twisted her hair up and secured it with a claw-clip, she applied a little more mascara and some lip gloss. The latter she did for her own wounded ego and not for the jerk who’d left her wanting more.
“Idiot,” she muttered as she slipped her feet into a sturdier pair of huarache sandals rather than her usual flip-flops in case they had to make a run for it again.
Okay, so he really wasn’t an idiot. Not much of one, anyway. He’d just . . . disappointed her. A lot. Plus, he’d hurt her feelings. In her book, that entitled her to at least a little bitchiness. Under the circumstances, she decided she could damn well have herself a proper snit if she wanted to.
She left the bathroom and decided he was also right—they should go eat. At the very least, she thought she deserved some chocolate to soothe her wounded pride. Or alcohol. Alohol worked for her, too. Maybe she’d have both in the form of a chocolate martini. Or three.
She walked over to the balcony door and quietly slid it open. Chas sat in one of the two deck-type chairs, looking out over the Pacific, his BlackBerry grasped loosely in his big hand. A hand that had brought her such exquisite pleasure.
She let out a quiet sigh. The sun had set low on the horizon, moments from disappearing from sight, and cast an orange-ish glow on the water. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Not even she could stay mad when there was a gorgeous sunset to enjoy.
“It is,” he said, not looking at her. “You don’t get this on the East Coast.”
He’d buttoned up his shirt. Good. If she caught another look at that gorgeous male chest, she just might do something stupid—like drool.
“You must have some pretty awesome sunrises, then,” she said, feeling more than a little awkward. She just didn’t get this guy. One minute he was driving her absolutely insane and giving her world-class orgasms, and the next he was almost cold, and definitely distant. Maybe she should throw something at his stupid head, after all.
Finally he looked at her. Desire flared in his gaze. “They’re not bad.”
She stared at him, wishing he’d stand up and kiss her stupid all over again. Two orgasms weren’t nearly enough. She’d take him now, right there on the balcony if she wasn’t afraid he’d reject her again. She wasn’t super chick. She didn’t own a cape with special powers to shield her heart. She was merely mortal, and her pride could only take so much abuse in one day.
“I’m ready if you are,” she said, wondering if she really was talking about food.
The regret she’d spied earlier when he’d first backed away from her had returned to his beautiful green eyes. Damn if her already wounded pride didn’t take another direct hit. When had she become such a glutton for punishment ?
The minute he’d reached for her in the airport that morning, that’s when. He made her feel vulnerable, and that she hated. If she was anything it was self-sufficient. She didn’t need a man to make her feel safe.
“To go eat.” Because she sure as hell wasn’t about to put herself out there again. “Dinner,” she added in a firm tone, just in case she wasn’t clear.
He nodded, then rose. “Give me a minute,” he said, and disappeared into their room.
Frowning, she crossed her arms and rested her backside against the balcony’s wall. Give him a minute? For what? To find another way to insult her, to make her feel as if she was some lesser being?
Her frown deepened. Given the circumstances, she suspected she was feeling more than a little irrational, but dammit, he’d made her feel like crap about herself. Worse, she’d essentially given him permission to make her feel bad, and that really pissed her off, regardless of how illog
ical it might be.
And with that thought, she pushed off the wall and stormed back into their room. “What gives, Chas?” she blurted.
He stopped in the middle of tucking his shirt back into his pants and looked at her, his expression wary. “What are you talking about?”
She folded her arms again. “Oh, I think we both know what I’m talking about.” If he didn’t, then she’d have to adjust her previous position on his idiot status.
Regret filled his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” She let o a huff of impatient breath. “You’re sorry? Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”
“For . . . you know,” he admitted before he finished tucking in his shirt.
“Because you left me . . . I dunno . . . hanging?” She refused to make this easy for him.
A deep frown suddenly marred his forehead as he zipped up his pants. “I did no such thing.”
She almost cared that he sounded defensive, and maybe a little irritated with her. Almost. He’d stopped—what was sure to be the best sex of her life—for reasons only he knew. Screw him. Her bitchiness trumped his irritation.
“Let’s just say you didn’t finish the job,” she told him. “I’d like to know why.”
His jaw tightened and his eyes turned glacial. “It’s not important.”
She made a sound that could’ve been a bark of laughter. But she was too ticked off at him right now to find humor in the situation. “Says you. My pride has a different take on the subject. Wanna hear it?”
He buckled his belt. “Not especially,” he mumbled, but she was close enough that she’d heard him loud and clear. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
She stalked up to him. He must’ve sensed danger because he backed away a few steps until he came in contact with the wall. He looked cornered, and more than a bit wary, which only fueled the fire burning inside her.
She narrowed her eyes and drilled his chest with her index finger. “I changed my mind,” she said, knowing she was being completely irrational, but unable to stop herself. He made her crazy with wanting him, dammit. “Something you know all about.”
He grabbed her hand before she did any real damage to that wonderful, wide chest of his. “You’re not being fair.”
She attempted to tug her hand free, but he held on tight. The light in his green eyes held a warning she was too annoyed to heed. “I really don’t give a rat’s ass,” she said grumpily. “I want to know what the hell I did to turn you off.”
Surprise suddenly lit his gaze. “Is that what you think?”
His surprise only increased her annoyance. What the hell else was she supposed to think? “You’re not leaving me much choice here.”
He stood there, his back to the wall, in more ways than one, staring at her. The air crackled around them. Her body responded to being so near to him.
“What was it?” she taunted him. “Too loud for you? Didn’t talk dirty? Cellulite?”
“Cellu . . . no,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re beautiful.”
“Not into girls?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard the compliment.
Something flared in his eyes, something dark and dangerous, and damn if it wasn’t a total turn-on. Whether challenge or anger, she didn’t have time to decipher because he grabbed hold of her shoulders and spun her around so her back was up against the wall.
“I want you,” he said roughly, surrounding her with his body, with his heat. His hands skimmed down her bare arms to her hands, where his fingers twined with hers. Suddenly, he lifted her arms over her head and before she could catch her breath, he leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Hot. And demanding.
She was lost. God help her, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to pull her into his nd kiss her stupid. Dammit, she wanted him to make love to her.
He used his tongue, his body, his hands, and she kissed him back. He pressed up against her and she felt the hard ridge of his erection. Her thighs tingled and already her panties were damp.
His lips left hers and he trailed a burning path down her throat to her breasts. “I want nothing more than to make love to you.”
“Then fucking do it,” she whispered against his ear in hot demand.
She didn’t know who was naked first, but she’d reached for his belt at the same time he’d grabbed the front of her jeans and unfastened them, then pushed them down over her hips. She toed off her shoes and yanked at his shirt. He tore her filmy top over her head and dropped his briefs. Before she could blink, they were naked and he had her ass in his hands and was lifting her. Using the wall to support herself, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He rubbed her sex with the head of his penis and she knew in that moment there’d be no turning back this time.
He didn’t give her time to breathe as he entered her in one thrust, going deep. She took all of him and marveled at the incredible sense of completion. Her nerve endings came instantly and vibrantly alive, going off as if they were a series of firecrackers, each one burning her, setting her on fire. She hung on as he stroked her body with his, the tension building, climbing until she rode the wave toward another orgasm. Sensation after sensation crashed into her hard. She cried out and slumped against him, her body humming in absolute pleasure.
But he wasn’t ready to stop now that they’d started and he continued to pump his hips, pushing her back to the edge where she followed him over this time. They came together in a rush of heat and passion and exquisite fulfillment.
And they did it all without a condom.
Never. Not once in her life had she ever had sex without the benefit of protection.
Never.
She rested her forehead against his and struggled for breath. Her heart beat too fast and she couldn’t blame all of it on sexual satisfaction. Fear was partially responsible.
“That was—” He paused to take a much needed breath. . . .
“Incredibly stupid,” she finished. “Let me down.”
He kissed her, quick, hard. “Not a chance,” he said with a stupid grin on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. He carried her to the bed, their bodies still joined. “I’m not through with you yet.”
“Seriously?” She let out a gasp as he went down on the mattress, cushioning the fall with his body. He rolled and had her on her back before she could manage even a halfhearted protest. As much as she’d love nothing more than to stay in bed with him until they were forced to come up for air, she really needed to think.
She started to run through the dates in her head, trying to figure out if she could possibly be ovulating. She really wasn’t all that regular, so she couldn’t state with any degree of certainty exactly where she might be in her cycle.
Okay, this was bad.
As if the safety aspect weren’t bad enough, if his little swimmers were overly ambitious, they could very well be attempting to wiggle their way into an egg at this very moment. Oh, please. Don’t let me be one of those really fertile women. Please.
He kissed her and she lost her train of thought. Her body was too busy glowing for her to think straight anywa.
She was screwed.
Mommy, how did you meet my daddy?
Well, you see, sweetheart, I met your daddy and five minutes later we were naked. What can I say? It happens.
She really needed to stop, but damn, he was just too good at the whole kissing thing. The whole sex thing was right up there, too, because heaven help her, the man was hard again and already moving against her, slowly stroking her.
Her body responded to his, so she gave up worrying about the future for the time being. She clung to him, making love slow and easy this time, but no less satisfying.
And that, she suspected, was only the beginning of her problems.
CHAPTER 7
Noah still hadn’t figured out how to tell Alyssa the truth, and it was eating him up inside. Now that they’d had sex, he didn’t want to think about the emotional ramifications of his deception. If he’d thou
ght she was mad at him before, she’d likely kill him when he finally told her she’d just had sex with someone she didn’t actually know.
Yeah, that was a conversation he couldn’t wait to have.
God, he was screwed. She’d never forgive him, because to her, everything about him would be a lie. If the situation were reversed, he doubted he’d be so quick to forgive, either.
Sunset had come and gone hours ago. After a quiet dinner at a local hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant and a couple of margaritas a little too heavy on the tequila, Alyssa had suggested they walk back to their hotel via the beach. He’d agreed, hoping the salt air would sharpen the dull edge caused by the tequila. And while he was wishfully thinking, maybe he’d find a magic cure to alleviate the sting still on his tongue from the hottest freaking salsa he’d ever encountered. The spicy dip had been served as an appetizer with warmed, homemade corn tortilla chips. She’d devoured the dish as if it were nothing, but two hours later, his chest and mouth were both on fire. So much so that he’d made a quick stop at a corner drugstore for a bottle of antacids. Alyssa had tossed a box of condoms on the counter. A little late, he’d thought, but when she’d said, “No sense adding dumb to stupid,” he’d kept his mouth shut and paid the bill.
Now he sat with his ass on the sand, his feet bare and his pants rolled up to his calves, courtesy of Alyssa, who’d insisted they chill for a while and listen to the waves. He was all for communing with nature, but not when they were the potential target of a couple of hired guns he’d bet were still trying to track them down. Still, he hadn’t been able to deny her when she’d smiled and batted those baby blues at him. As a bodyguard, she sucked at the job. As a woman, slowly but surely, she was wrapping him around her little finger.
And he wasn’t minding all that much.
She sat between his legs with his arms wrapped around her. Her back rested against his chest, her head nestled just below his shoulder. Her shoes were parked next to his and her miniscule purse was tucked inside his suit jacket, which he’d placed over her shoulders when she’d shivered in his arms.
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