Deep Cover

by Moira Reid

  Her bedroom door opened and Butch’s body filled the doorway.

  “Are you okay? Did you say something?”

  She’d forgotten how thin the walls were in this enormous house. “No, I was just talking to myself.”

  Butch shook his head and walked into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. He stood a safe distance from her, and she began to wonder: How distant was safe? And safe from what? Her own inexplicable desire?

  “Well, stop talking to yourself and get back into bed. I’ve checked all the doors and windows downstairs. I’m going to stay awake and sit outside your bedroom so you can sleep. Tomorrow we figure out where to go until this guy is caught.”

  “We’re going to my office,” she said without hesitation. “That bastard is not going to make me lose this deal and my freedom all at the same time. How are you going to go to work with me tomorrow if you haven’t slept all night?”

  “I’ll be fine. Are you all right?” He smiled, a look that she assumed was supposed to comfort her. It wasn’t a patronizing smile, more of an understanding sympathy smirk. Whatever he’d intended, his gaze burned through her blood.

  She nodded slowly as she looked at him, now fully dressed, although she could still easily picture him as he’d been a few minutes ago—naked and pressed against her.

  She rose from the bed and walked toward him before she could stop herself. Clenching her fists at her side, she refused to let herself touch him, although every instinct inside her wanted to.

  “I can’t sleep.”

  He nodded and straightened. “All right then. Why don’t I make a pot of coffee and we can talk for a while?”

  “Coffee?” The word sounded foreign on her tongue. “How would I sleep after that?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands over her upper arms. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep again.”

  He placed his hands on her forearms and stilled her body, which she realized had been shaking. She looked up into his eyes and waited. His gaze moved over her face, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Whatever it was, he decided to say it with his hands instead as he slid them to her neck and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.

  “Claire.” For a moment it looked like he was going to say something else, but no other words came. His eyes, however, spoke to her heart, unuttered words about her fear and his need to protect her from that fear.

  Maybe that was just her imagination and what she wanted to be in his eyes, in his heart. In his heart? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s an alien, for crying out loud. You’re losing your grip on reality.

  Standing here with him in the dark, in the aftermath of what had happened, though, she wasn’t sure any more. Had he held her in his arms to soothe her, or…? Here next to his warm, lean body, she didn’t quite know how to feel or what to think.

  She continued to wait for him to say something else, all language skills temporarily disengaged from her own brain stem. He bent over closer to her, his lips a breath away. She started to close her eyes and await the oncoming kiss she desperately wanted, but forced them to remain open.

  He didn’t kiss her. “Claire, get in the bed before…”

  Before indeed. Her body hummed with the nearness of his, the heat from him swirling around her. “I don’t want to.”

  “This is dangerous territory you’re treading.” He gritted his teeth and glared at her. “You’re not a fool. There is no way that the two of us…”

  The words meant nothing to her, and she stopped listening. All she knew for certain was that she wanted to kiss him. She placed her hands on his cheeks and stepped up on her tiptoes. He remained rigid until she pressed her lips to his.

  His lips parted, his hands tightening around her body, crushing her to the long length of him.

  A long time ago she’d been in a man’s arms, had pressed her lips to his, had even thought she’d enjoyed it. She’d had boyfriends, had seen kisses on television and in movies—passionate kisses between lovers, illicit kisses, even short, quick kisses on the cheek.

  Nothing she’d ever seen or experienced had prepared her for this.

  She breathed in the scent of him and drank the warmth and spice of his lips. Swaying against the fluid rushing of sensation flowing down her shoulders, her body remained buoyed solely by his hard flesh.

  Whether it was remnants of the fear that coursed through her or the tiredness that ached through her bones and lowered her defenses, she didn’t know, but every inch of her skin came alive as if she’d been living in suspended animation and was finally set free. From the first tentative touch of her lips to the quickly burning full heat of his, she fell headlong and without regret into the swirling, tumbling awareness of this moment.

  His breath was hot, his tongue at first licking the edges of her lips, then moving inside her mouth, capturing her tongue in an instinctive dance of desire. A blood-hot surge of raw want ran through her limbs. She grasped his flesh with unrelenting greed.

  Her fingers traced the defined muscles of his arms, squeezing until she felt him shiver beneath her hands. A sense of power coursed through her—she’d caused this tremble. Her hands, her touch…her. A mirrored shiver moved through her, and as she felt the press of his erection against her belly, she imagined him inside her.

  He broke the kiss and released her, taking a long step backward, his jaw tight as he clenched his teeth. “Claire, I feel every beat of your heart inside my head. The pheromones pumping through you are killing me. If you don’t stop, and now, I won’t be able to.”

  This was a terrible idea, but one she would not push from her mind. The image of Butch removing her clothing, then his own in front of her, the two of their bodies joining together—the enormity of her desire for him fulfilled. The possibility of such a reality surprised and amazed her. Not twenty-four hours ago, she’d wanted him gone. But the first notes of the song of their bodies together were a rhythmic, melodious dance of pleasure, one she did not want to end. A pleasure, indeed, that was beginning its first crescendo.

  She stepped forward and touched his face gently with her fingertips. “I don’t want to.”

  He looked down into her eyes, his own reflecting something like a question that remained unasked. She did not want to ask any questions, did not want to hear any, for she had no answers. Yes, this was insane, but she didn’t care. She slid her fingers across his shoulders to the buttons on his shirt and began to unfasten them one by one. His body became rigid as he watched her move slowly from one button to another, exposing his flesh to her hungry eyes.

  When she’d unfastened the last button, she let her fingers trail over the hardened muscles of his stomach up to his nipples. He continued to stand like a statue, his hands now frozen at his sides.

  “Claire.”

  The warning sound in his voice could not stop her. If he wanted to say no, then let him say it.

  “Butch, I know what I’m doing.”

  “I work for you, remember? I’m not your consultant; I’m not anything but your bodyguard. And I certainly shouldn’t be your lover.” The sound of his voice, low and deep, vibrated through her chest and increased her heartbeat another notch.

  She smiled at him, realizing that all the power belonged to her in this situation. Finally, for once, she was in total control. Letting her fingers slide down to his waist, she unfastened the first button on his pants, but as she began to lower the zipper he closed his hands over hers and stopped her.

  The ache that had begun low in her belly began to slip even lower. He had not moved, and she pressed her fingertips against his erection, which had not lessened in the slightest.

  His eyes blazed hot fire, and he took her hands, stilling them low between them. “Claire, don’t do that. I can’t be responsible for what I might do with your hands on me.”

  “I assume that means you want to touch me, but you are duty bound to ignore these desires. I am not.” She pressed their joined hand
s against his fly. “I don’t want you responsible. I’ve seen you responsible. Now I want you naked and in my bed. Let go of my hands, Butch.”

  Butch’s hold on her hands was so tight, she couldn’t move her fingertips over him anymore.

  “I don’t hear you saying no, and no is the only word I’m going to listen to.”

  He pulled both of her hands behind his back, bringing her body against his. As he stared down into her eyes, his jaw tightened. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her ear. “I can do this in complete silence, can you?”

  “Silence?”

  “If Garren comes back, he’ll kill you. I need to hear his approach. If you make a single sound, I’m going to cover your mouth with my hand, because, Claire, I am not going to let you die just because I couldn’t resist you.”

  The idea that he would cover her mouth sent her blood from a hot burning to a liquid boil.

  “I won’t make a sound.”

  He turned her around so fast that the room spun. He lifted her body and walked the two steps to the wall facing the hallway and pressed both of her hands flat against the wall.

  Before she knew what was happening, his hands were everywhere…over her breasts, down her sides, then pressing hard against the thin fabric of her panties.

  She squelched a low moan that started in her throat, for fear he would stop, and no matter what else happened, she did not want him to stop.

  He tore her panties down her thighs and grasped her body, pulling it hard against him. His hand moved down her back, then slid to his cock. He stroked the tip of his erection along her buttocks, sending a trembling shiver along her thighs. He slid his hands over her belly to her breast and gripped her nipple, twisting it hard. The brush of his breath against her ear taunted her.

  “Absolute quiet.”

  She nodded and leaned back against his shoulder as he shoved his cock inside her. Sucking in a hard breath, she bit down on her lower lip to stifle the moan of pleasure in her throat.

  With the sweet agony of his immense cock inside her, he held himself rigid, his chest pressed hard against her back. He took both of her breasts in his hands and squeezed her nipples, then whispered into her ear, “Okay?”

  She nodded fiercely and placed her hands back on the wall to brace herself.

  As his fingers slid over her shoulders to her waist, he pulled away from her until the tip of his cock almost exited her body, then plunged in again. It took every ounce of control she had to remain silent, to fall wordlessly into the beauty of this moment, spiral soundlessly into the intense pure joy of his filling the most sensitive part of her. His movements took on a steady rhythm, each plunge inside her moving her closer and closer to the orgasm building low and hot inside her.

  His fingers slid around her waist and circled her clit. He stroked her, and she pressed her buttocks hard against him, urging him deeper and faster against the increasing friction along the tightening walls of her pussy.

  The sound of a distant siren floated through the room, and the movement of his hips stopped. His fingers, however, continued to stroke her as he bit down on the soft flesh of her shoulder.

  “Butch.” His name came out as a faint whisper. She tipped her hips forward, then quickly back against him, working his cock with her pussy.

  A very low growl emerged from his throat. He pressed her chest flat against the wall and held her hips still against him. She was so close, on the precipice, but her hips were immobile. She tried to urge him deeper, harder.

  He held her still, but the caress of his fingers grew firmer, more sure, rhythmic, hypnotic. His warm breath caressed her ear. “Just let it happen, Claire.”

  Her name on his lips propelled her over the edge, her mind and body tumbling into waves of sensation and a cacophony of pleasure hidden in the midst of whispers.

  His arms slid around her body and he gently, slowly pulled out of her. In the darkened daze of satiation, she turned and opened her eyes to see him. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed and focused.

  “What…?”

  He pressed his finger to her lips and shook his head. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  She did, and as he lifted her into his arms, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands were on her hips as he settled his cock back inside her. “Still okay?”

  She closed her eyes and mouthed the words. Oh yes.

  Locking her fingers together behind his neck, she leaned back as he thrust into her again and again, each joining harder and deeper than the last, everything she had wanted to demand before, he now freely gave to her. She didn’t need words or patience anymore, nothing but the driving desire of his body with hers. The explosion of color and light and heat inside her catapulted her into oblivion with him, the orgasm she had worked moments ago to achieve a pale shadow in comparison.

  He clutched her body to his, and she tightened her legs around his waist. He turned and leaned his shoulders against the wall, capturing her mouth in the most possessive, most complete kiss she could imagine.

  He finally ended the kiss and disengaged her body from his with obvious effort.

  “Come to my bed.” The words were out before she knew she would say them.

  He stared down at her, his intense blue gaze mesmerizing. “I can’t protect you—”

  “Sleep beside me, Butch. Protect me here.”

  She took both of his hands in hers and led him toward the bed. She sat down and pulled him beside her. As she lay back on the pillow, he reclined next to her, wrapping her in his arms.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  He pulled her closer against him and rested his head against hers. Whether it was reality or not, she felt safe. If anyone tried to come into this room tonight, they would have to go through him first. She closed her eyes and finally gave in to her body’s exhaustion.

  * * * * *

  When Butch awoke the next morning with Claire still wrapped in his arms, he stretched for one languorous moment before he realized where he was. He jumped up from the bed, jostling her awake.

  Bodyguards didn’t sleep with the person they were guarding, and they certainly didn’t make love to them and then pass out cold. What the hell had he done?

  “Good morning, handsome.” Claire turned over and smiled up at him, her hair mussed and absolutely more beautiful than he’d ever seen it. Her gaze caused his groin to stiffen immediately, and he backed away from the bed so quickly he almost tripped.

  “Claire,” he began but didn’t know what else to say. How are you? Did you sleep well? What time is it? Every question that came into his mind seemed inane and not nearly close to what he really wanted to say. What in the hell were we thinking? Why did you let me do that? Did you enjoy it as much as I did?

  “Are you still going to work with me today?” she asked, derailing his train of thought.

  “Of course I am.” He blinked to focus his thoughts from her beautiful face to a dawning realization. “Did you think because I slacked off on my job last night that I was going to let you go on your own today? If anything, I plan to never let you out of my sight again.”

  “Touchy.” She stretched and closed her eyes. “Oh, I slept like a rock.”

  Butch hated to admit that last night was arguably the best night’s sleep he’d had in years. What they’d done, the danger he’d allowed himself to put them both in, had sucked every bit of strength out of him. This was a hell of a way to guard somebody.

  If Garren had returned last night and found the two of them in bed sound asleep… He rubbed his hand over his belly as fear clenched his stomach muscles. A smile crossed her lips, and the urge to take her again surged through him.

  Damn it. How in hell had he let this happen? It made no sense, and yet the truth lay tangled in the sheets before him. The thought of something happening to her now was worse than imagining something happening to himself. He didn’t know this woman well enough to feel this unrestrained sense of possession. There was no logic to it. Her pheromones and h
is response to them had taken over on a dangerous, visceral level, and as she lay on the bed, her fingers tangling and untangling in her long blonde hair, he knew he was in some deep, serious shit that could get them both killed.

  He would not—could not—make that mistake again. He had one purpose and one purpose only, and that was to keep this woman alive. And if you’re asleep with her body pressed against yours, your weapon is too far away, asshole.

  He cleared his throat and grabbed his underwear. Yanking them over his hips, he took a deep breath. Time to fix what he’d screwed up. “I hope you know what happened last night could get me fired this morning.”

  She smiled and stretched. “Yeah, I guess it could.”

  Oh yeah, once the captain found out what he’d done, Butch doubted the man wouldn’t throw him out or worse. No self-respecting employer would do anything less.

  You’re assuming she’ll tell him.

  But hadn’t that been her plan all along? She’d been scheming to get rid of him since the first moment they’d met, and he’d given her the reason she needed.

  Only last night, her hands and body—none of it felt like a scheme, which just went to show how he’d let her fool him, how he’d fooled himself. Had she done it for reasons other than the same unbelievable pleasure he’d sought and found? Or was this just him trying to shove his own guilt off onto her?

  “If that was the reason we did what we did, you can dream on. I’m here for the duration.”

  “The reason „we did what we did’?” She sat up and stared at him. “What we did was make love. And you think I made love with you to get you thrown out?”

  “Smart woman. That’s exactly what I’m saying. And you can forget it. I’m not going anywhere.”