Guarded by the Cowboy (WEST Protection Book 2)

by Em Petrova

  Not to mention when Boone touched her. Arching off the blanket into his fingers and lips and tongue gave her another kind of workout.

  Exhaustion seeped in. When she slid from the saddle, her inner thighs quaked. She gripped the horse to steady herself.

  Boone’s face was shadowed enough that she couldn’t make out his eyes as he stepped up beside her. “You all right?”

  “Yes.” She started stripping off the horse tack, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm. “If you can get inside on your own, I’ll take care of this.”

  She nodded.

  “You know the way?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, if you get lost, make sure it’s near the wife’s room.” His voice was tinged with amusement.

  As she made her way across the grounds, she passed a few guards who gave her nods of greeting. Her stomach knotted with every step toward the big ranch house that appeared to be a nice, welcoming place to stay but in reality, scared her witless.

  All those corridors that led who knew where, and behind a door a woman was being held against her will.

  Boone was right—the sooner they got out, the better. Not only for Isadora Black’s safety, but so they could nullify this sham of a marriage and get back to their own lives.

  She stopped with her hand on the door as it struck her—Boone hadn’t consummated the marriage, which ensured it would be easier to end things with an annulment.

  When she tugged the door handle and found it locked, a man came out of the darkness and punched in a code to open it for her.

  “The doors automatically lock at sundown.”

  Her mind seized on that tidbit of information, and the prospect made her stomach twist in fear again.

  “Thank you,” she said as she passed the guard. As soon as she stepped inside, she took a look around. Seeing no one, she set off through the house, deliberately choosing a path that led away from her room.

  If ever there was a time to explore, it was right this minute. Black and the other staff members would believe her if she told them she’d lost her way going to their suite today. Later on, exploration would prove much more difficult.

  She turned down a dimly lit corridor, feeling the walls close in around her like a haunted funhouse at Halloween. When Boone reached their room and found she wasn’t there, he’d probably lecture her on safety.

  Right now, she wasn’t concerned about her physical welfare—she was more afraid of being alone with Boone in a bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  Boone swept his gaze over the empty room and cursed.

  He was tired, and still semi-hard with want for a woman he shouldn’t lay a damn finger on. Hell, he was also apparently married to a woman who didn’t know her right from left when it came to navigating the ranch.

  He whirled back to the door and stopped short of bashing into Lauralee.

  His muscles hardened with irritation while his heart gave a sputter of relief that he didn’t have to go searching for her.

  Closing his fingers around her wrist, he leaned over her for a heartbeat, about to ask if she had any sense of direction. This wasn’t the place to hold such a conversation, where any of the staff might open their door and overhear them, so Boone pulled her inside.

  He shut the door and twisted the lock.

  When she walked straight to the bag she hadn’t yet unpacked and pulled out a garment without a backward glance at him, he didn’t bother to muffle a low grunt of annoyance and stepped into her path.

  “Where were you?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Having a look around.”

  His eyes widened. “What? Alone? Jesus, Lauralee.”

  “I had the chance, so I took it.”

  “You mean you took chances with your personal safety.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re overreacting. Did you know the security system locks the doors at sundown?”

  Her question threw him off course. “What? Yes, I knew that.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t expand on her response and sidestepped him.

  He caught her arm. “What are you doing? We’re having a discussion.”

  “I’m hot, grubby, grimy, exhausted and you’ve grabbed my arm one too many times today.” To prove her point, she stared at the place where his fingers wrapped around her forearm, just above a mosquito bite that had become an angry welt.

  The woman must be sensitive to bugs. And pollen.

  And his questing fingers between her thighs.

  His lips wrapped around her uber-sensitive nipples.

  Hell, now he was hard as well as ticked off.

  Releasing her, he stepped aside. “Take your shower, but dammit, we’re having that talk, and it’s going to touch on you wandering through the house without anyone to watch over you.”

  She threw him a “whatever, Boone” look similar to those from WEST’s office and shut herself inside the bathroom.

  The noise of the shower had his teeth clenching instantly. Imagining her stripping off her clothes and stepping under the hot water made him a little crazed.

  Shit, he’d forgotten to check in with Ross.

  In a funk, he kicked off his boots and tossed them haphazardly into the corner of the room. He removed his shirt and went for his belt, when he realized he couldn’t risk being naked and alone with Lauralee.

  The shower stopped.

  He swung to stare at the door. Had she finished already? He knew birds who took longer baths in his momma’s garden puddles than that.

  His mind lit on images of water streaming off her skin, her hair darkened even more. And his tongue stroking over the droplets, catching each on the tip and tasting her sweet flesh…diving between her legs.

  Hell. Ross would get a big, angry piece of his mind when they returned to Stone Pass. How was Boone supposed to keep his mind on the job with a woman like Lauralee within grabbing distance? Kissing distance?

  He clamped off the artery of thoughts spurting far too many lurid sex positions into his head and shot a text to Ross.

  His brother answered instantly.

  Wedding bells emoji. Rings emoji.

  Not funny, Boone thought, returning with a text of his own.

  Devil face. Eggplant. Meat cleaver.

  Ross responded with real words. Ouch, man. What’s got you riled?

  Should Boone tell him that she’d driven him to madness by wearing a maid uniform? Or how he’d damn near taken his new bride in a copse of pines tonight?

  He’d take the high road and responsible employee route here. Take control. Any info for me?

  No news. S is on the job.

  Silas—of course, he’d be digging deep into Black’s life from behind the scenes, exactly where Lauralee should be, rather than in the bathroom, nude and…smoothing lotion on her curvy, bare legs?

  He jammed his fingers through his hair. Focus, Wynton. Find some answers, do your job and get out of this place.

  The door opened, and he jerked his head up. The instant his gaze hit Lauralee, he wished to hell someone would step into his boots for him right about now.

  No way would he be able to keep his hands off her—not tonight after she’d whimpered for him and spread her legs and come on his fingers in tight, clenching waves.

  And definitely not with her wearing an oversized T-shirt that skimmed the tops of her bare thighs.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Her face blanked, and she looked down at herself. “A nightgown.”

  “Aren’t nightgowns supposed to be to your ankles?”

  She closed her eyes as if praying for patience in dealing with him. When she opened them again, she said, “What century do you think this is, Boone? Men don’t get tangled up over seeing a woman’s ankles anymore.” She strutted to the bed, yanked back the covers and climbed between the sheets.

  When she spoke, he’d automatically dropped his stare to her shapely ankles, which meant as she climbed into bed, he caught a flash of inner thighs and even a
fresh pair of white panties.

  His gut clenched.

  “Were you texting Ross?”

  For a minute, his mind got stuck on a hamster wheel of lust, turning around and around in the same endless lap of wanting something he couldn’t have. He could almost hear the squeaking gear.

  Suddenly, he realized he was still holding the burn phone and set it on the nightstand on what would be—if he chose to sleep here—his side of the bed.

  “You sleep on that side?” he asked her.

  She punched her fist into the pillow before settling her cheek on it, back to him. “Usually I sleep in the middle, but I’m trying to be nice.”

  His eyes blurred and his cock pulsed at the vision of her round little ass snugged up against his cock. “I’m gonna take a cold shower,” he grumbled, grabbed his clothes and stalked into the bathroom.

  “I thought you wanted to talk!” she called before he slammed the door.

  People on the other side of the wall probably thought they were having a lovers’ tiff. He had to get a handle on his feelings.

  Feelings? What the hell were those? He was as far outside her wheelhouse as possible. He should be searching the place for the wife’s room so they could get out of here. Instead, Lauralee’s presence invaded every crevice of his brain, shoving him out of the saddle into the dust.

  He grumbled his way through a shower as brief as hers had been, trying not to think of her washing in this same tiled cubicle. Then he donned boxers and jeans and walked into the bedroom.

  He expected her to be asleep, but her eyes were wide and glassy when they landed on his chest.

  With a low growl, he started toward the bed.

  She scooted into a sitting position. “You can’t sleep here, Boone.”

  “Too bad—I’m not sleeping on the floor.” He climbed under the covers and switched off the lamp on the nightstand, pitching them into darkness. “I hope you don’t snore.”

  She didn’t even seem to be breathing. She lay dead still and silent for countless minutes while his brain did acrobatics, picturing ways to bend her over, grasp her by the hips, yank her in and impale her on his cock.

  “I thought you wanted to talk,” she said breathlessly.

  He had intended to explain his actions back on that blanket on the trail, but now he could hardly find the will to stop himself from rolling over and grabbing her.

  “I wandered a few halls looking for signs of our charge’s room.”

  He flipped onto his back, and seconds later, so did she. They lay a hand’s width apart, staring at the ceiling.

  “Did you find anything?” he finally asked.

  “This place is big. I think I was behind Black’s personal office, but I can’t be sure without seeing a floorplan.”

  “You shouldn’t have taken the risk, Lauralee.”

  “You would have done the same. I’m surprised you didn’t.”

  “How do you know I didn’t already explore?” He turned his head on the pillow.

  She turned hers too. Their eyes met, and in the darkness, hers only looked shiny, devoid of color.

  “Did you?” Her voice came out as a breathy rasp.

  “As much as possible with Thornburne tailing me.”

  A look of triumph came into her eyes. “See? I did the right thing in having a look around. I was alone and not followed.”

  “The cameras caught you.”

  “I’m new here. Nobody will think anything of me getting lost on my way to my bedroom.”

  The way her voice rasped over bedroom had his cock shoving upward, swelling until the tip breached the elastic of his boxers.

  He dropped his gaze to her lips, willing her to say it again. My bedroom.

  He flipped onto his other side, facing away from her. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  “Nothing can be longer than this one.” She yawned through the last of the sentence.

  Within seconds, her breathing turned deep and even, but damn if he could remain in bed with her lying so near in nothing but a skimpy blue T-shirt—his favorite color—and panties.

  Stifling a groan, he eased out of bed and grabbed his phone. He stared at the inky screen in the darkness, thinking to dig into Black’s past. But in the end, he broke into the WEST Protection system and located Lauralee’s file.

  After a long hour, he knew a hell of a lot about the woman impersonating the love of his life. She was a Virgo, won awards for academics and was offered a top-paying position with a company in New York, but she’d taken the internship that eventually led her to the still-growing WEST Protection, earning much less.

  He also knew her address back in Stone Pass, so he could drop in on her with a pizza if he wanted. Did she even eat pizza? Food preferences didn’t make the file, but she’d told him her favorite was Alfredo.

  He fastened his gaze on her sleeping form. She was a side sleeper and had the sweetest pair of lips he’d ever tasted in his life. He’d lost his damn mind over her soft, throaty moans when he stroked her to completion.

  And he was in big, big danger of fucking up this job because of his reaction to her.

  * * * * *

  Awareness seeped into Lauralee’s dream. Something warm and hard banded around her waist. Something even harder plastered against her spine.

  The only thing she knew to be so hot and hard? Boone Wynton.

  It couldn’t really be Boone, could it? He wouldn’t grab her in his sleep.

  Without even opening her eyes, she tested the object behind her by pressing her hips back.

  The hard weight around her middle tightened.

  She gasped out loud.

  “So you’re finally awake.” His sleep-roughened whisper danced across her barely conscious senses, waking her fully with a desperate, needy flip of her heart.

  She fell still, heart hammering, air trickling from her lungs. When they deflated, it took her a moment to realize she needed to pull more air inside. That was how lungs worked.

  “How long have you…” Been lying here with an erection? “Been awake?”

  “Long enough.”

  Though he didn’t move to grind against her or cup her breast, the fact he didn’t only spurred her desire.

  Seconds passed. He was waiting for her to decide, wasn’t he?

  Knowing he placed the power in her hands—to take what she wanted or reject it—left her feeling even softer toward the man. But going this final mile to the finish line would toss them both into unknown waters. Even though she didn’t answer to Boone directly, he still owned part of the company where she worked. She’d be sleeping with her boss, and after this was all over and they were nothing more than colleagues again, then what?

  “If I turn over into your arms, it means we can’t get an annulment. We’d have to get a divorce,” she said.

  “Yes.” His gritty tone hooked her gut and twisted her up.

  “Things could get…complicated.”

  “We’re halfway there already.”

  “Ross could fire me if he finds out.”

  “I wouldn’t let him. I’d step down first.”

  She did flip over and looked into his eyes. “You can’t do that.”

  “Would if I had to. There’s always the ranch, and I love that almost as much.”

  Almost wasn’t as much.

  She studied him in the darkness. In her month working with him, she’d rarely seen the eyes he hid beneath his Stetson. But here, he couldn’t hide from her.

  What she saw in those depths spread like warm gooey marshmallow through her. He wanted her, but was gentleman enough not to pressure her.

  When she inhaled, her chest expanded to brush against his. Her nipples began to throb with a heaviness that reminded her of how freakin’ hot his fingers felt on them.

  And his mouth.

  “Boone…”

  He didn’t blink or shift his gaze from hers as he waited for her to continue.

  “I want you.”

  His
eyelids shuttered, and a ripple ran through his shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, flames scorched over her. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down even as he trapped her lips under his.

  His clean, musky scent flooded into her brain, and she moaned. He took advantage of her parted lips to plunge his tongue inside.

  She wiggled against him. Wantonly rubbed. Still, he didn’t do more than kiss her into a smoldering, shaking knot of want.

  This big man waiting for her to make the first move only inflamed her more. She scraped her fingers down his shoulders and pecs, stroking her fingertips over his nipples on her way to his washboard abs.

  While she explored, he clamped his hand on her hip. She wanted him to yank her onto his hard cock, but he remained unmoving, letting her trace her fingers across his torso in a quest toward the waist of his boxers.

  As she settled her palm over his long, impressive shaft, she flicked her eyes up to his. He broke the kiss, panting harder. His eyes urged her on, as he waited to see what she would do.

  Suddenly, she wished she had more experience with men. Her former boyfriends were in, out and done in minutes, leaving her no chance to take charge this way.

  But she always wanted to.

  Why not with a gorgeous man like Boone Wynton? He was in her bed, hard for her, and this could be her chance.

  Did she shrink away, lie on her back and have the same boring sex she always had? Or did she go after what she wanted?

  Boldly, she flattened her hand on his cock, pressing down. When she conformed her hand to fit the ridged length and then gave it a slow caress, he groaned.

  “You’re big.”

  He steeled his jaw.

  She rubbed him through his boxers, learning his size, girth and how the tip flared. As she rounded the crest with a fingertip, he squeezed his hand on her hip tighter, as if he fought to hold himself back.

  Watching his face, she took the power he placed in her hands and slid her hand into his boxers. He swallowed when she gripped his length and pulled it free of the cloth. At the same moment, she kissed him. Surging upward, she captured his hard mouth for her own, swirled her tongue over his and made him rumble with a growl.