Deep Cover

by Moira Reid

  Her mouth dropped open. “What kind of whore do you take me for?”

  Was she actually trying to deny it? He’d been stupid last night with the dark and his own rampant desire for her body hiding the truth. This morning, though, while she was still beautiful, he was seeing things a lot more clearly.

  “Based on your behavior, I’d say a very talented and conniving one. Right up until you kissed me, the only thing you really wanted was me away from you. Now you’re trying to tell me that changed? Or did you expect me to be as stupid as I’ve behaved?”

  How could he have been so blind not to realize it last night? In the moment, when she’d walked into his arms seeking comfort, so beautiful and so vulnerable, looking at him with those huge green eyes…well, he’d lost his brains in his pants.

  She climbed out of bed and placed her hands on her naked hips. “I expected something a little nicer this morning than you calling me a whore! How could you believe I would do something like that?” She shook her head vehemently, her eyes narrowing. “Okay, wait. I will admit I tried to come on to you in the car—I wanted you fired. But I didn’t and you didn’t, and that has nothing to do with last night!”

  “So you just came on to me last night in this room because you wanted me.” The statement sounded ludicrous in his ears, and he wished he’d said it out loud last night before he’d managed to screw up everything by listening to his damn hormones.

  She pushed past him toward the adjoining bathroom, then stopped in the doorway, her back to him. “You are an idiot. Get out of my bedroom and get ready for work.”

  She stepped onto the tile floor and yanked the door closed behind her.

  The bitterly uttered sanction rolled over in his mind. Had she begun with the thought of getting him fired in mind but changed her mind? Was she telling the truth?

  Yeah right. Everything changed when he was deep inside her and she was bucking against him. She forgot she wanted him gone, and he’d imagined all of this.

  Sure. Right. You’re good, but not that good.

  To hell with it. He needed to get a shower and a shave and maybe his attitude would improve. He’d need all the energy and vitality he could muster just to make it through another day of dealing with her business clones. Not to mention the little matter of keeping her alive. And after last night, there was no mistake: Garren wanted her. Whether he wanted her dead or alive was something Butch didn’t even want to think about.

  He showered and shaved quickly, put on the same suit with a clean shirt, and slipped his feet into the expensive dress shoes. After this job, he would never wear another suit like this. Business suits were for businessmen, and he’d never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Put a pair of fatigues on him and slip a weapon into his hand, and he knew exactly what to do. He knew who the enemy was, knew where the target was, and knew exactly how to eliminate it.

  Claire’s office was much more complicated and well out of his realm of experience, if not ability. Yesterday he’d done all right faking it, at least until she’d ditched him. Even the idiot clones who worked for Claire would be able to see through him soon enough. The more he talked, the more it would become apparent he was not trained in one of this country’s finest business schools, but rather on foreign soil—really foreign soil. He’d not ridden around in company cars and limousines, but instead for the past ten years had driven tanks and ridden on aircraft carriers.

  He ran a brush through his hair quickly, then left the bedroom and jogged down the staircase toward the kitchen. Keep your eye on the ball, and that ball is Claire. She’s your only concern. Everything is about sticking close enough to her to keep her alive.

  Chapter Five

  Claire slumped under the shower’s jets and ignored the tears burning in her eyes. How dare he accuse her of being a whore? Had she been the only one in her bedroom last night? She’d opened herself to him in ways she didn’t even understand and could not control—didn’t want to control. How humiliating to wake up this morning and find out it was all a lie, just a roll in the sheets for a few breathtaking moments.

  Oh, and those moments had been breathtaking.

  “Damn it.”

  She sniffed and squared her shoulders. She hated feeling like this. He believed he’d been deceived? She had never felt more betrayed.

  Yes, all right, yes. She had started to fake an attraction for him in the car to get him fired. Maybe he had reason not to trust her, but couldn’t he tell that her lame attempt at coming on to him in the car and last night were completely different things?

  She’d made love with him because she’d wanted to, needed to, and for absolutely no other reason, overwhelming common sense, danger, and everything else.

  Now she wanted to kill him. The look on his face this morning hadn’t been regret. No, it was much worse—anger and mistrust. And between her own fury and his mistrust, they were not where she’d expected to be in the cold light of day.

  How could she face him now? She’d love to think that her feelings for him were momentary, a sudden itch she’d needed scratched, but she knew better. She wasn’t ready to call it love, but there was something between them.

  Something between herself and an alien.

  Crazy. She didn’t have time for this complication right now. The last thing she needed when she was supposed to be concentrating on this deal was Butch Markham filling her mind.

  She could fire him. Contrary to anyone’s opinion, even her father’s, she didn’t need a reason. She could just do it—do it today. Find herself another bodyguard, and be done with him.

  But you won’t. Because you don’t want to.

  “Damn it.”

  Finishing her shower and getting ready for the day in record time, she walked down the staircase to the kitchen. He stood next to the coffeepot as he had yesterday, in the same suit, the same shoes, the same perfect hair.

  He placed his coffee cup on the counter and turned toward her as she approached.

  “Claire—”

  “Don’t say one word to me. You listen.”

  His lips closed, his eyes sparkling so beautifully her stomach wrenched in pain. She narrowed her eyes and ignored the rage of almost physical burning inside her. “I am not a whore.”

  “I know that. I’m sor—”

  “Shut up!” Claire held her hand up and took a deep breath. “Now, let’s get a few things straight. As far as we’re concerned, last night didn’t happen. You are my bodyguard, and you’re going to do your job—keep me alive so I can do mine. When this is over, you’ll be gone, and all of this will be forgotten. You got me?”

  He didn’t move for a long moment, then shook his head. “No.”

  “No? What do you mean, „no’?”

  “I mean this.” He wrenched her to him with one hand behind her neck and the other at her waist. The movement was so quick, she didn’t realize what was happening until she was pressed hard against his body. He captured her lips, the taste of coffee, the smell of soap, and the heat from his body blasting through her senses like a bomb through a retaining wall. She moaned and felt herself lean into him, felt the vibration of his return moan. His clutch around her nape tightened.

  The kiss deepened as the sound of his breathing filled her head. His hands were everywhere, and she lost control of her own. One moment she’d been ready to slap him as she had yesterday. But now all she wanted was that day-old suit off his body.

  His lips dipped to her neck, his teeth gently nibbling the soft flesh at the base of her throat. “I’m sorry about what I said. You are not—”

  She stopped listening as she grabbed for his tie and pulled the knot hard, struggling to release it. “Take this off.”

  He lifted his hand, but she grabbed it first. “Don’t you dare do that palm thing.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Oh no. Not this time. Watch.”

  He waved his hand again, and his clothing disappeared before her eyes.

  Cool air touched her flesh. She glanced down to
find her own body as naked as his. “Wow.”

  “I have no idea what it is about you, Claire.” He pulled her body back into his arms, pressing her chin up with his thumb. His eyes glittered like flames in a frosted crystal votive. “I’ve thought of a million reasons not to do this, but I don’t give a damn about a single one of them. Last night did happen, every fucking second of it, and whatever the reason, it’s going to happen again.”

  Lifting her body into his arms, he carried her to the kitchen table and set her down firmly, her hips at the edge of the smooth oak. He pressed her knees wide and dropped down to the floor, his head between her thighs.

  “Do I have any say in this?” Her words were breathless and meaningless in her own head, yet they emerged as one last grasp for control.

  He stroked the insides of her legs with his thumbs, slowly moving upward toward the apex of her thighs. “You can say no even if every molecule in your body is screaming yes to me at this very moment. You can open your mouth and say no.”

  Whatever she might have said was lost when he placed his tongue on her pussy. The heat from his mouth at first surprised her, then lulled her into a place far from the firm, hard table under her. She leaned back, caught herself on her quivering arms, her head suddenly too heavy to hold upright. Closing her eyes, she slid her hips closer to his mouth.

  His tongue slid over her once, then again and again, circling, dipping inside, and circling again. Oh God, he might not be from this planet, but he knew what to do with a human woman. The ache inside her burned hot and low and steady, gathering fury with each swirl of his tongue. As if he’d been born to drink in her body, his groaning voice became a hum that titillated her clit with each stroke.

  She leaned on one elbow, burying the fingers of her other hand in his hair, moaning his name over and over. The pressure and heat built quicker and quicker, and hot, pulsing, raging, she finally found her voice, but “no” was not the word she wanted.

  “Oh yes!”

  The orgasm broke through her, and her shout shattered the silence of the space around them.

  Drinking every drop of her, his tongue lashed in and out as the waves of pleasure coursed through her, shaking her body against his mouth. She fell back on her elbows, bent her knees, and held on to him, lifting her hips off the table, but it was not enough. Not nearly enough. With each empty clench of her muscles, she gasped another breath.

  “Inside me. Inside me now.”

  He stood and pushed her body farther up the length of the long table, then climbed over her. He stared into her eyes, seeing everything—her need, her ache, her urgency.

  “You are too used to having your own way, Miss Simonson. It’s time you gave up some of that control.”

  She blinked through the haze of her receding orgasm and tried to focus on the words.

  His voice was low and steady, his eyes burning into hers. “Take my cock in your hands, Claire. Rub it across your clit. Do it now.”

  She hesitated. How long had she been in charge, completely managing everything in her life down to the most mundane detail? What would it be like, for even a moment, to let it all go? To hand the responsibility, the power, everything—over to someone else?

  “You can trust me, Claire,” he whispered.

  She gazed into his eyes. What would it be like…?

  She touched his erection cautiously at first. It would be heavenly. She threw the reins of power blissfully away from her and encircled his firm, hot flesh in her hand.

  The house of control she’d lived in all her life now abandoned and disappearing in the rearview mirror, she drove onward, squeezed his cock in both of her hands, then brushed him along her spread legs. As the hard tip of his cock touched her wet flesh, she lifted her hips again, stroking him over her pussy, so close to being inside her, so near to filling her again.

  “Close your eyes and see what I can see.”

  She obeyed him, and a complete and full-color view of their bodies opened like a curtain. Her hands, in full view behind her closed eyes, were on him, his smooth, narrow hips poised just above her body.

  “Stroke it, Claire. Stroke it over your pussy.”

  She squeezed him between her palms, seeing the movement in her mind as she felt it in her hands. Sliding her hands up and down his long shaft, each stroke moving the head of his cock across her swollen clit, she saw and experienced the pleasure simultaneously.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He took in a deep breath. “Now watch this.”

  The thrust was unexpected, hard and deep. Her eyes flew open on their own in time to see his jaw tighten, his eyes squeezed shut in rapturous pleasure. As he began a slow, steady thrusting, a small smile curved the corners of his lips.

  “Your eyes are open.”

  “You’re beautiful to watch from here too,” she gasped.

  The slow, easy thrust of his hips shifted to a harder, faster movement, and the change burned inside her. As a damp sheen of sweat covered her skin, she slid her hands to his face and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  His kiss was possession, ownership, and control, and she gave way to it all. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her hips even higher to meet each thrust. As his mouth moved over hers, his body pounding inside her, the sweat on his skin mingled with her own.

  The echoes of his pleasured shout of release rumbled inside her mind as another orgasm built, bloomed, and exploded within her body. His mouth moved over hers less ferociously as they clutched each other, the only steady, solid things in the swirling world.

  Holding his body over hers, he placed slow, soft kisses on her cheeks and her eyes, then dropped his lips to her ear.

  “It’s crazy, but I…”

  She gasped for breath, holding on to his shoulders for support in the remaining swirling of the ceiling tiles in her vision. “I know it’s crazy.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I love you too”

  He cleared his throat and pushed himself up on sinewy arms. His eyes widened, and the smile fell away from his face. “You’re going to be late for work.” He rose and helped her up from the table. “I’m going to need another shower. Want to join me?”

  Her heavy breathing continued, but she struggled to contain it. Naked, postcoital in the most obvious way, and standing in her kitchen with a man she’d just confessed love for—who had blatantly not confessed shit to her—great. Humiliation burned in her cheeks as she glanced around the room. “Where are my clothes?”

  He pointed to the countertop. “There.”

  The clothes were folded neatly in a stack, her shoes side by side next to them. How in the hell he did that took a backseat to her self-flagellation. She’d had a plan, which had instantly evaporated with one kiss, and to top it off, she’d confessed love for an alien.

  It was going to be one hell of a day if this kept up.

  She walked to the countertop, scooped the suit under her arm, and turned with as much dignity as she could muster. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. All right?”

  “Good,” he said, then turned and walked out of the room.

  * * * * *

  Butch sat in the driver’s seat waiting for Claire to come outside and tried to ignore the pattern of his thoughts. Shit, this was such a fucking mess. He wanted her; he could still feel her body beneath him. Even after the rigorous shower, he could still smell her shampoo and lavender perfume, almost as if it were the largest part of the air he breathed.

  She’d told him she loved him. Damn it to hell. He’d almost told her the same thing! This was a nightmare.

  She sat down in the passenger seat and turned to him. “So you no longer think I’m a whore, is that right?”

  He shook his head. “I never thought you were a whore.” He groaned in frustration. “Hell, I don’t know what I thought. I’m an idiot.” In more ways than I even want to think about.

  She pulled the car door closed. “Let me see if I can help. You thought I wouldn’t have sex with you unless I was trying to get somethin
g I wanted.”

  Oh man. This is worse than a nightmare. “Yeah.”

  “That’s a whore.”

  “I apologize, Claire. I should have never—”

  “And I guess we know that isn’t true for sure now, don’t we? It appears I’ll have sex with you whenever I’m near you, and I don’t have to want anything from you—except sex, I suppose. Well, at least we have that out of the way.”

  He turned to her and tried to ignore the hypnotic lavender scent and beauty of her face. He tried to forget about what she felt like in his arms, under his fingers, in the control of his body as she gave hers over to him. But as he gazed into those green eyes, he found himself wanting to believe.

  But believe what? That she really did love him—that he loved her? It was impossible, for one thing, and ludicrous for another. He could not join with her. She was a kindred, and the Auquerel had spoken long ago. This woman was not to be his mate. He could not fall in love with someone who was not his mate. Impossible.

  Yeah, well, maybe she’s confused about what’s possible since you keep jumping her bones every chance you get, fool.

  “Are you going to drive us to work, or beam us there, Mr. Spock?”

  “I need to talk to you, Claire.” He should say something, but what? What a shit he was. A low-life, slimy pile of stinking shit. “I—”

  “Just drive,” she said, her voice clipped and professional. He knew that voice. She’d used it all day at work with every employee she’d come in contact with. Is this what happened between human beings when one spoke the sacred words and the other did not? He should have watched fewer action movies and more chick flicks.

  “Claire.”

  “Move it, alien. Before Garren drives a tow truck behind us and drags this car away. Go!”

  He cranked the engine and pulled out of the driveway. Maybe they were done talking. She’d made an offer, and he hadn’t consented. So, were they done now? Was that how the people on this planet handled situations like this?

  Shit, who knew? Well, no matter how beautiful or desirable she was, and no matter what memories of their bodies were now burned in his mind, she was not the one. The fact that his body wasn’t inclined to listen made the situation a hell of a lot worse, but obviously only for him. The real question was, how was he going to leave her clothes on now that every moment she was near him all he wanted to do was take them off?