by Radclyffe
"God, I want you," Blair whispered, almost groaning the words. No one, no one had ever done this to her before. Made her want so badly, or ache so deeply. More than sex, more than intimacy. An explosive combination of the two that scorched through her, leaving her always hungry.
"Blair," Cam gasped, grabbing for the hand on her shirt. "Wait."
"Too late," Blair laughed, throaty and low, shifting to straddle Cam's thigh. The added pressure between her legs made her gasp, her eyes closing momentarily with the rush of excitement. "Oh, god. Way too late, baby. I need your hands on me now. I'm so, so ready."
"I'm working, Blair," Cam said gently, hoping Blair couldn't feel the trembling in her thigh. She swallowed a moan as Blair thrust into her again. "We can't."
"You can be a few hours late for wherever you need to be. You're a regional director now," Blair muttered. She wasn't really listening to anything except the need singing through her pelvis.
Cam moved her fingers to Blair's wrist, circling it softly. "I'm workingnow , Blair. Here."
Something in Cam's tone finally penetrated Blair's awareness. There was a hint of sympathy in Cam's voice that shadowed the desire Blair felt simmering in Cam's body. With effort, Blair took one step away so that their bodies were no longer in contact. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice unnaturally calm. She searched Cam's eyes for the answer, because Cam's eyes never lied. Not to her. What she saw there hurt. Hurt in a way she hadn't thought she could hurt again. "Damn you," she breathed, not knowing which of them she meant. "What have you done?"
"I've been reassigned, Blair. To you," Cam said, watching Blair back away from her, forced to let her go. Jesus, she had hoped it wouldn't be this hard. She just needed a little time to find out what was going on. Then she could make her understand. "Blair -"
"When?" Blair asked coldly, making herself move farther across the room. She needed space between them. She had to stop wanting her long enough to think.
"Yesterday," Cam answered.
"And you said yes?" Blair demanded.Did what we shared mean so little to you?
"Blair," Cam said quietly, "I received a directive from my superiors telling me that the President of the United States wished me to assume responsibility for his daughter's security. I could hardly say no."
"Of course you could have," Blair said bitterly, "if you'd wanted to. There are plenty of other people who could do this job. Mac is handling it just fine."Don't do this, please don't do this!
Cam wasn't sure how to explain that part of her didn't want anyone else to do the job. Couldn't explain that ever day that she was somewhere else, doing something else, she worried about Blair. She couldn't forget that there was an UNSUB, an 'unidentified subject', who had stalked Blair, photographed her, left messages for her, and ultimately, shot at her, and the Secret Service had failed to apprehend him. Shewanted to be with her. She needed to be with her.
"It's not that simple," Cam began, knowing her words would not help.
Blair turned away, struggling to contain her disappointment and hurt. Clearly, whatever she thought had been developing between them was over. Cameron Roberts was not the kind of woman to compromise her professional ethics by carrying on a clandestine affair with someone she was supposed to be guarding. It would have been difficult for them to see each other under any circumstances, but now it would be impossible. Blair swallowed her pride and made one last attempt to undo what had already been done. A decision that had already been made without regard for her feelings, like so many others in her life.
"I could speak to my father," Blair said quietly, disguising the hope in her voice. "The security chief can name someone else to command the detail."
Cam struggled not to go to her. No matter how hard Blair tried to hide it, Cam could hear her sense of betrayal. She had never wanted to be the cause of that, but Blair's safety was more important than anything else. "There's a reason I've been recalled," Cam said quietly. "I don't know what it is, and neither does Mac. Until I find out, I'd prefer you not say anything."
Blair's face was a careful blank. "Well, that's it then, isn't it?"
"Yes," Cam said, unwilling to offer Blair further excuses that would only be insulting to both of them. For the time being, she didn't have any choice except to assume the responsibility that had been given to her. And in truth, she wouldn't want it any other way. Still, watching Blair's eyes turn cold rocked her. She couldn't think about losing her, not and still do what she needed to do. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, Commander," Blair said dismissively. "We both know how important your job is to you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm busy."
Cam worked to keep her voice neutral. "I understand. I'll need to discuss plans for the rest of the week with you."
Blair walked past her, careful not to touch her, and opened the door. "Then you can come back this afternoon for the scheduled briefing."
"As you wish," Cam said quietly, stepping out into the hall. When the door closed solidly behind her, the ensuing silence was lonelier than she could have imagined.
Chapter Three
"Mac," Cam said into her transmitter as she keyed the penthouse elevator outside Blair's apartment.
"Go ahead, Commander," Mac replied as he automatically checked the monitor providing visual surveillance of the hallway in front of the elevator. His eyes switched to the adjoining screen showing the interior of the elevator as Cam stepped on.
"Sign me out to my apartment," she said tersely. "It's the same address as before. Someone pulled a few strings to get it back for me." She needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a few minutes to herself to erase the sound of Blair's disappointment and the image of the hurt in her eyes. She had to meet with her later in the day to confirm the agenda for the upcoming weeks, and she needed to be in control of herself when she did. The very first moment she had seen Blair Powell, just over a year ago, she been attracted to her. She had been able to ignore those feelings for months, but, as time passed, she had come to know her, and her desire turned to caring. Finally she had succumbed. She hadn't been able to withstand both the pull of her body and the demands of her heart, and she had touched her. Now, she would somehow have to learn to live with her need.
Mac studied her face in the monitor, and even with the mild distortion of the transmitted image he could make out the tense set of her jaw and the grim line of her mouth.Uh oh. Things had not gone well with Egret. He wasn't surprised. Cameron Roberts had been shot in the line of duty less than a year before, shot while guarding Blair Powell. Shotin place of Blair Powell when she had stepped in front of her and stopped a bullet from a sniper's rifle. Cameron didn't remember the nightmarish scene when she lay bleeding on the sidewalk and agents surrounded Blair, dragging her to cover. Mac remembered it very well. He remembered Blair screaming Cam's name as Cam went down. He remembered Blair sitting by Cam's bedside for over twenty-four hours while Cam's life hung in the balance. And he knew that Blair had requested that Cam be removed from her security detail once she had recovered. He couldn't imagine that Blair would be happy about this new arrangement.
"You're scheduled for a briefing with Egret at 1300 hours," he said while glancing over the day's events printed out on a clipboard by his right hand. When in doubt, revert to procedure.
"I've got that," she snapped as she walked quickly through the lobby, nodding curtly to the doorman as he hastened to hold the double glass doors for her. She stopped under the short green awning and surveyed the rooftops of the buildings across the park. It was the first time she had been back since the shooting. She stared at the sidewalk and recalled the fine red mist on her hands and the clear blue sky overhead. She shivered lightly, thinking that it might have been Blair that day, and not her. Then she shrugged the memory away and crossed the street toward her apartment on the other side of the square.
When she'd stripped off her jacket and eased out of her weapon harness, she walked to the windows overlooking Gramercy Park and stared across the treetops at t
he penthouse of Blair's building. She thought about her up there now, in that space that should have been a haven. The windows in Blair's loft that faced the street were bulletproof, the fire escape ended one level below her floor, and the skylights on the roof above were crisscrossed with woven titanium mesh that would require a blowtorch to cut. A posh fortress, but a subtle prison nonetheless. Cam couldn't blame Blair for hating it. She couldn't even blame Blair for being angry with her. She wished she could change it, but the facts of Blair's life were beyond anyone's control. She turned away from the image of Blair's smile and the memory of Blair in her arms. Wanting her would not help either of them now.
*
After Cam left her loft, Blair waited motionless on the other side of the door, listening to the faraway hum of the elevator climbing to the penthouse to carry Cam downstairs. Long after she knew Cam was gone, she waited, foolishly hoping that she might return. By the time that she finally turned back into her empty apartment, she had managed to replace longing with anger, a familiar antidote to disappointment.
Then, she needed only to convince her body that she no longer cared. Cam's arrival that morning had been so unexpected she hadn't done anything except react. Few women had ever been able to excite her the way Cameron Roberts seemed able to do with little more than a smile, and it was one of the things that made her security chief so frightening. Blair made a point of keeping everyone at arm's distance, physically and emotionally, and she had failed miserably with Cam. Walking through the loft, she was still throbbing with the aftermath of unanswered arousal. She was so angry with herself for allowing this to happen that even her body's automatic response seemed like a betrayal.
"Shower," she muttered under her breath, shedding clothes as she crossed to the partitioned area in the corner that adjoined her sleeping alcove. She twisted the dial and stepped under the still-cold spray, gasping at first contact. Her nipples were still full and tender from the recent stimulation, and the wetness between her legs was not from the rivulets of water running down her body. She leaned against the far wall and let the warm cascade engulf her. She closed her eyes, and that was a mistake.
As soon as she surrendered to the soothing beat of the water on her skin, she saw Cam's face again. She felt Cam's body along the length of her own as they had pressed together against the door. She imagined Cam's hands on her, just as she had imagined them many times during the weeks they had been apart. Ordinarily such remembrances produced just a pleasant hum of pleasure, but she was already aroused, painfully so. The pinpricks of heat on her skin seemed to streak directly between her legs, and the tingling pressure building there warred with her self-control.
She would not think about her.
She grabbed soap and began to lather her neck and chest, smoothing her palms over her breasts and stomach. The sensation of her fingers passing over her nipples made her gasp. Without consciously meaning to, she caught one between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed, arching her back slightly into the warm spray as the sharp pinpoint of pleasure-pain seared down her spine. It was too good, too good not to lift her hands and cup both breasts, squeezing as she rhythmically twisted her erect nipples until all she could feel was a steady burning pleasure beneath her fingertips.
She pressed her shoulders harder against the rear shower wall as her legs began to tremble. She ached inside. Still massaging her breasts with one hand, she pressed the other to her stomach, running her fingers lightly over her skin, moving lower with each stroke. Her pulse beat between her legs like a second heart. She knew how hard she was, had felt the stiff swelling as she had straddled Cam's thigh. If she touched herself, she would never be able to stop. She had been ready the minute her lips had found Cam's mouth. She was always so damn ready for her. She imagined Cam's fingers where her own brushed through the hair at the base of her belly and her clitoris twitched.
"Ah god," she whispered, eyes still closed, shuddering at the memory. She needed to ease the pressure, couldn't think of anything else. Her fingers slid lower, one on either side of her distended clitoris. Her hips jerked as she squeezed lightly, and she had to brace herself with one arm against the wall to keep from falling.
Her mind was empty of everything except the exquisite sensation of her fingertips rubbing over her blood-engorged flesh. She was dimly conscious of her muscles quivering and the pounding pressure of her orgasm building. Faintly, she heard herself whimpering with each teasing stroke. Neck arched, she thrust her hips steadily back and forth as her hand move faster between her legs, setting her nerves on fire. When the inferno roared in her pelvis and scorched along her veins, she choked back a cry, her fingers squeezing down with each spasm, milking each pulsation to the very end.
When the contractions that ripped through her finally quieted, Blair leaned weakly forward into the spray, her arms outstretched, palms against the opposite wall, barely able to stand. Her body was satisfied, but she took no satisfaction from it.
"Damn you, Cameron," she whispered.
Chapter Four
At 1255 Cam approached Blair's building. Two things occurred simultaneously. The earphone connected to her radio transmitter crackled to life and she saw Blair Powell flag down a Checker cab, slide into the rear seat, and disappear as the vehicle pulled away into traffic.
"Commander, please be advised that Egret is flying solo," Mac's voice informed her. "Unit one has been detached but does not have visual."
She turned abruptly, stepped into the street, and hailed one of the many taxis passing by, practically walking in front of it to get it to stop. As she pulled open the front door, she extended a hand displaying her open badge folder and said, "I need you to follow that cab up ahead."
The taxi driver stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"
Cam shook her head, her eyes following Blair's vehicle around the square. "I wish I were. You're going to lose them if you don't get going."
It was something about the utter stillness in her face and the unnatural calm in her voice that made him face forward, sit up straight, and, with his hands gripping the wheel tightly, execute a performance of New York City driving that would have won him a trophy at Daytona. He pulled to stop ten feet and twentyfive seconds behind the cab that had carried Blair to a small coffee shop deep in the heart of Greenwich Village.
"Thanks," Cam said, handing him a twenty as she stepped out.
He leaned across the seat to look up at her. She looked familiar and he thought he finally understood. "You're making a movie, right?"
She didn't answer. She was already halfway across the sidewalk. She entered the small storefront cafe and immediately saw Blair at a small table in the rear with another woman. Blair looked up, her eyes meeting Cam's, but she gave no sign of recognition. Cam threaded her way through the few tables to the counter and ordered a double espresso. While she waited, she glanced around the room, noting the location of exits and the general position of the few patrons, mostly twentysomethings reading newspapers.
She paid and picked up the small espresso cup, moving to the far corner of the room diagonal to where Blair was seated. She sat at a small circular table for two, her back to the wall. From there she could watch the front and rear doors as well as everyone in the room without infringing on Blair's conversation. She would have been happier to have a car out front in case they needed to leave quickly, and she hoped that Paula Stark and her partner would arrive momentarily. She had seen them getting into one of the unmarked vehicles in front of Blair's apartment building as she went by in the cab.
Fortunately, most civilians didn't recognize Blair when she went out dressed casually, with her hair down and wearing little or no makeup. Today, in jeans, a cotton V-neck sweater over her T-shirt, and scuffed boots she looked like most of the younger denizens of the neighborhood. The man-on-the-street usually recognized public figures only when they were attired formally and placed in the appropriate surroundings. That was the one thing that made Cam's job easier. Because Blair Powell certainly didn't.<
br />
"Commander," Paula Stark's voice asked in her ear.
"Yes," Cam murmured, tilting her head slightly as she listened to Stark relay her position. She gave Stark her exact location and informed her that she'd stay inside with Blair. "Just maintain in the vehicle outside."
"Roger that," Stark replied morosely, wondering just how pissed off her commander was going to be that they had let Blair Powell walk right out of the building unescorted. Blair hadn't done anything like that in so long that when she said she was going to the lobby to get her mail, they hadn't brought the car around front in the event that she pulled one of her old tricks. They lost two minutes mobilizing when they finally realized that Blair had exited the building and was hailing a cab. Stark sighed and settled back to watch the door to the cafe and the people going in and out.
Forty minutes later, the statuesque blond with Blair stood up and crossed the room to Cam's table. She leaned down and said in her low throaty voice, "How nice to see you again, Commander. Blair tells me that you're back in charge of her."