Protect

by Reagan Phillips

  "Why are we stopping," Claire's voice came as a whisper over his right shoulder.

  "Camera," he tilted his head to answer. "We can't go out the front, and the back goes by the office and the guard room."

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "I'll do whatever you tell me."

  That was his girl. Ready to follow his directions, no matter how much of a beast he made himself out to be upstairs. She molded to his back, prepared to move when he did.

  "On three, follow my lead." He reached for her hand behind him and squeezed. "Claire. If I fall, you stop, understand?" his guts twisted, just saying the words out loud. "Stop and let them take you in. Don't try to run. You won't make it on your own. Promise?"

  He felt her head bob behind his. "Promise."

  "Good. Now, we move as one beyond the three doors in the hall. The first is the kitchen, the second a guest bathroom, the third is the dangerous one. We get past that door, and we run, full speed, no hesitation." He squeezed her hand again and let go.

  "I trust you," she breathed into his ear.

  His guts twisted. Claire had trusted him before, and he'd led her right into the lion's den. He couldn't stop thinking she'd be better off putting her trust anywhere else but him.

  Connor counted down with his finger above his shoulder. As his last finger dropped, Claire grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, ready to follow. Connor kept his Glock down by his side, making them the smallest, tightest package possible. Wishing he could make them invisible.

  He hugged the wall as much as he could while keeping Claire at his back for safety. The first two doors were closed. He had no issues passing them. But the third stood cracked, and one of the security guys, along with the chef were chatting just beyond. Words like dinner and bitch and kill reached his ears. Claire's fingers dug into his shoulder. If he'd had a hand free, he'd reach behind and reassure her.

  He was going to get her out of this. Or he was going to die trying.

  Claire fought to keep her head clear, and her body ready for movement. Molded to Connor's back, she waited for his next instruction, be it verbal or visual.

  Danny's harsh voice floated out into the hallways. She knew it was his. After the night behind the dumpster, she'd never mistake his face or his voice for anyone else's. The second voice she didn't recognize, but she picked up enough of the conversation to understand if she didn't make it out of the house with Connor, she was going to regret it at the party.

  Connor shifted forward, and she followed, leaning into him, becoming part of him. The second he made a move, she'd be ready to follow.

  The conversation behind the door turned to laughter and strings of incoherent words, and Connor made his move. Claire dug her nails into his shoulder as if holding him tight would make her truly part of him, and followed passed the open door and out the back.

  Connor didn't run but walked swiftly, and she wondered if it was for her benefit. He didn't need to worry. After what she'd witnessed in Henry's house, she could run faster than any animal if it meant putting distance between Henry and her.

  They reached Connor's SUV, and both slid in through the driver's door. Connor revved the engine and threw the vehicle in reverse. Her body lurched forward from the force.

  Down the driveway, Claire didn't breathe again until they reached the main road.

  "Are you hurt?"

  She glanced at Connor, not sure how to answer. "No," she finally choked out, though she'd never felt more unhurt in her life. She shivered, picturing Danny on the ground, body broken and bloody, looking up at her with pleading eyes, Her stomach twisted into a tight knot, and for a second she thought she might be sick.

  "You're cold?" Connor reached over to turn on the air, but all she saw coming was a hand, and she flinched from it. God, she'd be flinching at shadows for the rest of her life now. She glanced at Connor and found his wide brown eyes a darker shade, and she couldn't tell if it was hurt or anger she saw flashing in them.

  "I was only going to turn on the heat," he spoke softly. "Shock can make your body cold."

  "I'm not in shock," Claire answered as her body shook again. The endless wave of shivers already had her shoulder and neck sore.

  "It's going to be okay," Connor spoke. His gaze darted between her and the road ahead. "You are going to be okay."

  Claire glanced out the window instead of looking at him. "I don't think I will ever be okay again."

  "Don't say that." He reached for her hand, holding it in her lap and squeezing. "Please, don't say that."

  "Where are we going." Claire tried to ignore his plea. His voice sounded too much like Danny's when he was begging for his life.

  "To the safe house."

  "They won't find us there?"

  He glanced at her again in a look that made her feel like glass. A delicate glass that touched just right would shatter. She hated that look. She wanted to erase that look from all the looks Connor had.

  "They won't," he answered. "Are you feeling warmer?"

  "Yes," she lied. The way the numbness covered her body, she doubted she'd ever feel hot again, but Connor had bigger issues to focus on than her comfort, and she needed to make sure she wasn't the reason he wasn't focused on them. "I'm fine. Really."

  He squeezed her hand in his again. The only place on her body that was truly warm. She glanced at him again, the bear of a man sitting beside her, and wished she could crawl into him. Into his warmth and his safety. Crawl in so deep the world would never find her again. They'd be one for the rest of eternity.

  "Why did he do that to Danny?" she ventured as they turned on the main road. "Why did he hurt someone who'd been loyal to him like that?"

  Something deep in Connor's throat rattled before he answered. "Men like Henry Forge don't honor loyalty. He wanted to intimidate you, and Danny was the best way to do it."

  The knot in Claire's stomach twisted tighter, and she fought the rush of nausea that built in the back of her throat. "I'm the reason he did that to Danny? If I hadn't gone to lunch, he'd still be up and walking around instead of…" she choked off.

  "No, no, no. You can't think that way, sweetheart. You didn't do anything. Forge made that choice. Not you."

  Under her lashes, she looked up to Connor's face. He was watching the road and glancing at her. His set jaw made the days worth of stubble stick out more. She wanted to reach for it and run her fingers along the fine hairs hoping the pain would dull the ache inside her. "Would Henry have made that choice if I hadn't gone today?"

  Silence followed before Connor squeezed her hand again. "Danny was going to be used one way or another. If not to intimidate you, it would have been for something else down the road. That's what men like Forge do. They use, and they throw away. Think of it like this, sweetheart. He didn't kill him in front of you. He didn't want you to be that scared of him. That counts for something. Danny will heal, and he's still alive. For now."

  She'd heard the term of endearment but hadn't reacted to it until now. Sweetheart. She wondered if he'd even known he'd used it. Was it his way of comforting her? Had he used it before when things turned to shit, and he needed to put the broken pieces of a girl back together?

  The rest of the ride to the safe house passed in near silence, except for Connor asking small talk questions. Claire assumed he was using them to check on her frame of mind and her awareness. She was keenly aware. Too keenly aware.

  By the time he pulled the SUV into the back garage, she'd stiffened, and her limbs refused to move. When Connor opened her door and held out a hand to steady her, she crumpled in a tangle of spent muscle and useless bone.

  "I've got ya," he spoke into her shoulder, sweeping one arm under her knees and catching her. "Just lean into me."

  His arms scooped up under her legs and her head lobed against his chest until nothing held her but the air around them and Connor's arms. His chest was solid under her ear. The steady rhythm of his heartbeats, strong. She shut her eyes and let the thump, thump, thump lull her as she breath
ed in his heady scent.

  Connor unlocked the side door one-handed and carried her through the kitchen as Claire finally allowed her eyes to open. They stood in the center of the bedroom, ready to lay her gently on the bed.

  The bed that days before had only been a cot. Claire sank into the delicious softness of a blue spread and allowed it to bellow around her as her weight fell into the bed. She raised a hand to rest on Connor's cheek as he leaned over her, his arm still under her neck.

  "What is this?"

  He smiled. "I've made some updates since your last visit." His eyes gleamed. "Seeing as you were willing to stick your neck out for the department, I figured the least we could do was give you a safe place to land."

  Claire ran her hand over the stubble on his cheek, memorizing by touch each dip and rise of his lower jaw. This man. This beast was going to be the end of her.

  "You should rest. Today was a lot to process. I'll have something ready for you to eat when you wake."

  "I don't think I'll ever be hungry again." Her stomach revolted just at the mention of food.

  Connor laughed. It wasn't light, and it wasn't carefree. More like a weighted acknowledgment of her comment. "You will."

  "And will the vision of Danny's legs crumbling underneath him disappear from my memory as well?" She fought a sob.

  Connor sat next to her and stroked her hair behind one ear. "I wish I could tell you differently. But it will dull over time."

  How could the memory ever go away with the crack of his knees still echoing in her ears every time she closed her eyes. "If you hadn't been there…" she started, choked off by a sob. "If I'd gotten what I wanted at the party that night, I…"

  Connor laid a hand on her cheek. "But I was there then, and I am here now. I will be here until Henry Forge is behind bars. You have my word on that."

  "Is that a promise you can really make?"

  Connor's eyes darkened, and his fingers stilled on her face. He studied her for a long few seconds before answering. "However long it takes. I won't leave you alone. That promise I can make."

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'm going to leave you now. Try to sleep, sweetheart."

  "No," Claire protested the second he stepped away, and the familiar heat of his vanished. She didn't want to be cold or alone. Not ever again after what she'd seen. "Please." She lifted to her elbows. "Stay with me."

  Connor moved to the other side of the bed and scooped her up into his arms, so her back pressed into his chest, and her head rested on his upper arm. He stroked her hair. "Close your eyes and try to sleep. I won't leave you."

  "I don't think I can," she answered. With Connor's heat on her back and his hand in her hair, the last thing on her mind was sleep, in fact. From the first time he'd called her sweetheart until seconds ago when he'd probably absentmindedly done it again, she'd thought of what those big hands of his would feel like roaming her body. What his warm lips would do to her skin and how the dip from his neck to his broad shoulders would taste. Was it strange that stress and fear turned her one? It never had before meeting Connor.

  She squirmed her body closer until her ass fit perfectly into his lower waist. Either his jeans had bunched over his thigh, or his mind was on the same dirty pleasure as hers.

  "That's not sleeping," Connor countered.

  Claire turned over to face him. "I told you, I'm not tired. If I close my eyes now, I'll only see Danny." She nudged her cheek under his chin, and Connor countered by pulling her in closer until he surrounded her like a security blanket.

  "You need something to take your mind off of today."

  "Or someone," she spoke into his chest.

  The low rumble of his voice shook her cheek as he groaned in answer. Before she could react, he'd lifted her face to meet his with a finger crooked under her chin, and his eyes had darkened to almost black. Hunger radiated in his stare before he closed the gap between them, and his lips came down soft on hers.

  Soft, she didn't want. Soft was him holding back. Protecting her. She needed something more. Something real and rough and reminded her what it felt like to be alive.

  Claire wrapped her fingers around the back of his head and pressed her mouth, hungrily into his. She parted her lips, and the invitation was taken almost instantly. Claire squeezed her fingers in his hair, pulling the strands at the same time she plunged deeper into Connor's mouth. She pushed up until she was on her knees, her mouth still pressed to his, both taking eagerly from the other. She dropped her other hand to his shoulder, gliding her palm over the rise of muscle from under his shirt.

  A moan built in her throat as she moved down his bicep, her fingers pressed into every peak and valley of his vast upper arm. The man was massive.

  "Do you know what you're asking for?" Connor pulled far enough away to speak. "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to tell you no right now?"

  "I do," she answered, tracing her finger along his arm again. She swore she felt his hairs stand as the pad of her finger moved over his skin.

  "And you're still asking?" His gaze landed on her fingers.

  Claire moved to his waist. She lifted the hem of his shirt and splayed a palm over his warm lower abdomen. Warm was an understatement. His skin burned her fingers, and his muscles tightened at her touch.

  "I'm still asking," she answered, raking her gaze from his tanned skin upward to eyes so darkened with desire she feared Connor was already gone.

  As if permission was all he needed, Connor grabbed one wrist, then the other and pulled her underneath him on the bed, straddling her and keeping his weight focused on his knees. "I'll try to be gentle, but you've got me so turned on I don't know if I can hold back."

  Claire smiled up at him. "I don't want you to." She reached for his stomach to run her hands over him again as Connor stripped his shirt then made quick work of discarding hers.

  His head fell forward to her neck, where light kisses turned to sharp nibbles that pulled on the string in her middle and made a pulsing ache between her thighs. She arched her neck, giving him more room to work, realizing she'd needed this. She'd needed a release more than she'd needed comfort.

  She'd needed Connor.

  While focused on her shoulders, laying kisses that threatened to burn through her skin, Connor worked the clasp behind her back and released her breasts. A smile played on his lips when he lifted his head, and his gaze glided over the exposed mounds. His fingers kneaded softly, taking each orb into hand and squeezing until her nipples tightened from his work.

  As the pressure pulsed, Connor dropped his mouth to one peaked nipple and sucked away the pain before following the same routine with the next. His warm mouth eased the pain, but only caused the building pressure to move lower into her belly and outward to the petals of her folds.

  Claire ran her clit along the seam of her panties and swore if he didn't touch her there soon, she'd burst into flames like a phoenix. She squirmed to ride the seam harder when Connor's thick thighs tightened along the outside of her legs.

  "Pleasing you is my job." His mouth turned into a grin that set her inner thighs ablaze.

  Claire pressed her legs together as tight as she could, but she couldn't quell the throbs. "I can't wait much longer," her voice came out a pleading whisper.

  Connor moved strands of hair from where they'd fallen over her cheek and softly kissed her there. "Aren't I worth waiting for?"

  There was no answer to the question that made sense in her scrambled brain, so Claire bucked her hips instead. She reached for the hem of her skirt to pull it up to her waist when Connor's heavy hand clamped down on hers.

  "That won't do. I want to see you naked under me. I want to enjoy the view of your body's reaction to mine. I want the whole show."

  He kissed along the waist of her skirt before his palms slid the smooth fabric down her legs, leaving only the black silk thong she'd worn underneath. Connor's eyes lit as he studied the thin triangle of fabric covering her sex, and the grin that f
ollowed sent Claire's head spinning.

  How could a man be so damn sexy that just a smile sent her tumbling into ecstasy? It wasn't fair to have that much power in that one small movement, yet she swore right there she didn't want to live another day that didn't have that smile in it.

  Connor hooked his thumbs along the strings riding her hips, and within seconds she was bare, no boundary between them but his slacks. Her attention shifted from his lips to the exposed feeling of her naked flesh and the way his eyes glowed as he devoured her with a heated gaze that warmed her to the core.

  Connor spread her legs with his palm, then ran it down the inside of one thigh before he dipped his head and rubbed his stubble along the inside of the other.

  Claire bucked at the sensation of pain and pleasure along the sensitive flesh. She dropped her hands to his hair and flexed her fingers within the mounds, taking fistfuls at a time and guiding him to her core.

  His tongue pressed into her folds, the tip moving along the slit of her sex until her lips parted, and then he licked along her clit. She fisted her hands and pulled at his hair, bucking her hips into his face, begging for him to move deeper to ease the pressure.

  When Connor added a finger to the torture, she undulated against him, her back arching and her thighs tightening around him. One rhythmic spasm hit before waves shook her body. When Connor lifted his head, his lips glistened with her desire.

  "You are the most goddamn beautiful woman I've ever seen." He bit his bottom lip and made a sucking sound. "I don't think I'll ever have my fill of you no matter how many times you spread your legs for me."

  Claire shivered in the sudden cold of his departure. "Then don't make me wait so long next time."

  "Wait?" Something sparked in his eyes. "You don't know how hard it's been to wait. How many times I've had to spread my legs to ease the pain of a straining cock at the sight of you." He shook his head. "That skirt," he whistled. "That skirt will only be worn behind closed doors for me from now on."

  Claire nodded her understanding, ignoring the fact that after tonight they may never be together in this way again. It was too sweet a thought to break with the harsh truth. Instead, she smiled, a beacon calling him home before he reached for the button of his jeans.