His to Defend (The Guard Book 2) Page 7

  “Non.”

  She never should have kissed him…and damn, she wanted more.

  He issued a huffing noise, stomped to the steps and disappeared down them, ducking his head to work his height beneath the bulkhead.

  For a moment, she stared at the open water, wondering what had come over her to make her slide into his lap and kiss him. The stress of the situation cost her some precious sanity.

  Well, whatever the reason, she’d gotten her way now. He didn’t return to the deck and left her alone to guide the vessel on the course he already set. The pale glow of the moon on the small waves didn’t bring her the peace she craved, and the lights of the controls and GPS had the exact opposite effect on her nerves.

  She gripped the wheel. She asked for this, and she’d see the job done. As the open water stretched before her, she realized she only knew one thing about her life at this moment—she couldn’t let Lars touch her again, because she liked it far too much.

  Chapter Five

  Lars ground his teeth as he skimmed a palm over Lillian’s spine, guiding her into the vehicle that would take them to the next—and hopefully the last—stop. He hated moving a ward around. The more they were in the open, the bigger the danger.

  Once she settled in the passenger’s seat, he gripped the door and stopped himself short of slamming it in her face again. He closed it more gently than he would in any other circumstance. Damn, the woman had him trained like a flipping circus poodle. She’d even ordered him to get some rest, though he only went below deck in order to get away from her. After that kiss, he couldn’t risk being around the woman.

  Exhaustion settled like bruises under her eyes, leaving him feeling worse. He never should have allowed her to navigate the boat. Besides wanting to avoid any more slips when it came to his ward, what drove him to give in had been how much he liked the determined look on her face.

  He pressed his lips together, keeping his smile from surfacing. Lillian was a very unwilling princess who didn’t want any white knights stepping in to save her. No matter what her beliefs, she needed someone with the skills to keep her alive, and no man on Earth could guard her like him.

  Jesus Christ. Now I’m getting possessive, not just protective. Fuck.

  The island of Guernsey lay north of Normandy in the English Channel. While it boasted a huge tourist industry, those visitors would actually help him hide her. Early in his career with The Guard, he’d discovered the safety in numbers and employed the technique time and again, using crowded major cities to blend in and conceal his wards.

  He didn’t like her silence or the way she slumped in the seat next to him. Had she finally buckled under the pressure? He needed his spunky ward firing questions at him and not the silent and pale woman he saw now.

  When he started the car, the headlights penetrated the darkness.

  “We’re on Guernsey, in case you didn’t know.”

  “I know,” she said faintly.

  “I have a room waiting for us.”

  “All right.”

  He eyed her. The fight seemed to have left her.

  Hell, I don’t like that one bit.

  The sooner he moved her to their accommodations, the sooner she could rest properly. Their long day on the run obviously took its toll. Her ceaseless strength would fool anyone into believing she was holding up, but maybe all those questions covered the true despair she hid from him.

  Part of his job required mental health support, and he’d told her she talked too much, kissed her into silence and then pushed her away.

  I had no choice. I can’t touch her again.

  The drive to their resort only took minutes, since they’d docked nearby. When he parked, Lillian didn’t stir in her seat, and he thought her asleep. Putting a hand on her arm, he shook her gently. “We’re here.”

  “I can see that.”

  Okay, for once she wasn’t in the mood for chatter.

  She reached for the door handle, and he stopped her. “Let me come around for you.”

  Quickly, he climbed out, retrieved her clothing bag from the back of the car and circled the vehicle. On alert as always, he led her by the arm into the building, down a short corridor and to their room.

  “Is this a resort?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we have separate rooms?” She avoided looking at him.

  “No.”

  When he set her bag on the bed, she stared at it for a long moment.

  “Lil, are you all right?”

  Her stare slid to him, but she didn’t move from the spot where she stood.

  “Why don’t you take a hot bath?” he suggested, swinging the door open to reveal the empty and much grander facility than their last stop.

  She nodded and slowly moved to the bathroom. As soon as she closed the door, he drifted to the window and checked outside. No threats loomed up, and he dropped back to sit on the edge of the bed.

  Damn…he was tired, and he didn’t like Lillian taking notice. His wards never mentioned his fatigue—he was supposed to be a goddamn machine.

  And none ever showed concern for his wellbeing by suggesting he should get some sleep.

  He threw a glance at the closed bathroom door. The strains of water flowing into the tub roused thoughts of silky, fragrant, bare skin sliding under the water’s surface.

  “Fuck. I need a drink,” he muttered.

  He didn’t drink on the job often, but one small vodka wouldn’t affect his reactions. On the way across the small suite to the wet bar, he double-checked the door lock and found it regulation issue, yet acceptable. He poured himself that vodka and tried not to listen to the water pouring into the bathtub. And he definitely cut off thoughts of Lillian, naked on the other side of that door.

  Drawing out his phone, he sat at the table for two and then set his drink on the wooden top. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the sore spots on his temples. Before he called for more information about this mission, he needed to gather his thoughts. He threw another glance at the closed door and then reached for his drink and slammed back the alcohol.

  Christ, he couldn’t get the feel of her curled on his lap out of his damn head. That kiss… Hell.

  A low growl rumbled in his throat, though it didn’t root from his own self-disgust for touching her. No, he barely contained his want.

  He stabbed a finger over the phone and brought it to his ear. Oz picked up.

  “Brother. I didn’t think you’d check in so soon.”

  Now Lars detected a bit of strain to his voice. “Everything all right there?” he asked.

  “Yes. No. Hell, I’m not sure anymore.” Oz gave a rueful chuckle.

  Lars stretched his shoulders and felt a pop in the center of his back as his vertebrae aligned. He’d broken his back there years ago, and he always felt the stiffness, especially after a long day.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Oz.

  “It’s the boys. My sons.” Pride tinged his voice, along with more strain. “They stayed out past curfew for the second time. I think they’re testing me.”

  “Well, you’ve only been in their lives for a few months. Of course they’re going to see how far they can push you.”

  Oz just discovered he’d fathered twin sons after reconnecting with their mother and his long-time love, Rose. Lars had never seen the man happier in all their years of working together, except he also bore the stress of having a family while trying to run The Guard. The operation served as a full-time job plus some, and now Oz juggled family life too.

  Lars experienced a pang of regret. “I should be there to help you. Someone else should have taken this mission.” Even as the words escaped him, he experienced a rising panic at the thought of another guard watching over Lillian. He cast another look at the door.

  The water had shut off.

  Could he have another drink yet?

  “You’re right where you should be, Lars. Nobody could have driven out of that crash but you.”

  “
You saw that, huh?”

  “It’s all over the TV. You should have heard the whoop that went up when we watched the highlights.”

  Lars’s lips tipped into a crooked smile. “Glad to provide the entertainment, as always. Look, your sons… Alex and Nick will come around in time. It’s early days, man.”

  “I know. And Rose is beside herself. I can’t imagine the stress she’s under to bridge this gap between us all. Poor woman deserves a real vacation. Enough about that, now. You’ve got questions.”

  “Yes.”

  Oz filled him in on everything he knew concerning the group hired to take out Moreau, as well as how Lillian’s client fared with the missionary guarding him.

  “I hear that Moreau’s a difficult ward. You lucked out with the woman. Usually women are much more compliant, unless she’s a crier. Is she a crier, Lars?” Oz asked.

  He slid his stare to the closed door. “No. She’s not a crier.” She was, however, a goddamned torment.

  “That’s good to hear. Roman’s tracked down the place where the group is holed up these days. He and Archer are putting together a raid with Madeline and Sanders backing them.”

  “Of course Sister’s involved.” He referred to Madeline, who seemed to have her finger in every single mission taking place around the world. Too many to count let alone keep track of, yet the woman was a godsend to the Church, even if she was a pain in his ass.

  “Sanders is doing great too. That man couldn’t have walked into our lives at a time we needed him more. There’s so much intelligence that needs gathered right now, and that man could hack an alien mothership, I swear.”

  “No doubt he has skills we haven’t even learned about yet.”

  “It’s true. Pure genius, and I’m just glad he’s on our side and not the opposite. Anyway, you keep your head down and stay put. Nobody knows where you’ve got the ward hidden, and it seems no one took notice of you taking that boat out of Saint-Malo. I’ll fill you in when we know more from Roman and Archer about the cell.”

  He almost asked where Pierre Moreau was hidden, so he could tell Lillian her client was safe, though he held his tongue.

  “I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Oz, and hang in there with your boys. Fatherhood isn’t built in a day.”

  “No shit. At their ages, I was a total dick. So I know what I’m dealing with.”

  They shared a chuckle and ended the call. Lars stared at his empty glass. The vodka hadn’t begun to take the edge off his desire to kick open that bathroom door, shuck all his clothes and join Lillian in the tub.

  Seconds later, he heard water flowing down the drain with a gurgle. He sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, body reeling at the thought of her naked and wet. Fuck, he could lick the droplets from her bare skin for the rest of the night.

  She cracked the door and peeked out.

  “Do you need something? Your bag?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  He retrieved the bag and carried it to the door. To accept it, she had to open the door wide, and he managed a good look at her straight body wrapped in a white towel before she thanked him and shut the door again.

  Fuck. Dampness coated her shoulders. The hollows of her collarbones too. His jeans tightened, and he moved away from the door before he did something stupid.

  Another minute passed. He breathed through his urges. He thought of every physical fight he’d engaged in over the past six months just so images of Lillian, naked and sprawled on his bed, didn’t enter his mind. Then she walked out of the steamy bathroom, and he drowned in fantasies all over again.

  What the hell? Even with that gorgeous redhead at the party, he remained in complete control. Either he’d gone too long without banging some beautiful woman or he needed a vacation like Oz’s woman.

  Wearing loose pants and a tank top, Lillian walked over to the bed and climbed straight under the covers. He followed the line of her bare shoulder with his gaze and stopped where the sheet pulled over her skin. A citrus fragrance filled the air, and it could only be her own bodywash.

  One taste.

  Hell no. You’ll never stop.

  Her back faced him, but he knew the exact moment she drifted off to sleep…leaving him tortured in the chair for another night. Had he only been with her such a short time? The problem with these missions was they were thrown together for endless hours that stretched into days and sometimes weeks or more. He never had an issue with separating himself from his ward. What made Lillian different?

  He started at the top. Brown hair was surely boring, and he definitely wasn’t interested in the way it flicked up at the ends as it dried in a natural wave.

  As he scanned down her spine to her backside, he couldn’t even detect the curve of her ass under the covers. Slim-hipped with not much to grab hold of. Not his type.

  Goddammit, the woman had him totally fucking mesmerized and acting like a dumb ass. He had to stay on the path. Bodyguard and ward relationships sometimes happened in movies or books, though he’d taken an oath, which he recited now to remind himself to never go there.

  He adjusted his dick two more times. He reached for the hard, throbbing length again and was just about to slip into the bathroom and rub one off, when she cried out.

  Jerking to his feet, he watched her.

  She issued a small scream and curled up.

  In two strides, he reached the bed. Another whimper escaped her, creating the final crack in his heart.

  He eased onto the mattress behind her. With him on top of the covers, he could only hold her. He slipped an arm around her middle and edged up behind her enough to lend her the comfort of his body. In seconds, she settled once more and didn’t make another noise.

  But fuck, he’d found a curve, and her ass nestled tight against his groin. He wished to hell he wasn’t hard, and hoped like hell she didn’t wake up and make the discovery. He stifled a groan. After he returned Lillian to her life, he would definitely put in for that vacation.

  * * * * *

  Lillian had so much work to do. She had at least two press conferences to schedule, and she needed to get Pierre’s personal stylist to work on his attire for an awards ceremony honoring retired racers.

  Though the bed felt too warm and comfortable to climb out of and start her day. While she didn’t hate her work, she did find herself burning out quicker than when she’d first begun. Maybe she’d load up the car this weekend and take a drive out to one of the new destinations on her list.

  A heavy weight around her middle anchored her to the bed, and her back pressed against a solid and comforting object. She never remembered her bed feeling so nice, and certainly no hotel provided such comfort.

  With a soft sigh, she drifted another moment before his scent hit her. Pine and musk. Where had she smelled that before?

  It came back to her in a blink—Lars. When she sat in his lap and kissed him, she’d felt dizzy with his scents.

  Wait. He must be close. He must be—

  She rolled over, coming face-to-face with the man. Encircled in the wreath of his arms, she tingled with awareness. That gut-punch of attraction hit as her gaze washed over his rugged features. So close, she made out every tiny scar and crease he bore. The brackets around his mouth softened in sleep. Each hair sprouting on his jaw invited her fingertips to explore.

  How did he get here? She had no memory of him climbing into bed with her, and he remained fully clothed and atop the covers. Is this how bodyguards act? Surely he didn’t snuggle up to all the people he protected. Why her? He’d pushed her away the previous night.

  Only after he kissed her back.

  And ohhh, what a kiss too.

  Her insides fluttered, down low. She closed her eyes on the sensation she felt far too few times in her life. She was far from asexual, but she rarely took a chance with a man. Now lying so close to the chiseled man who’d saved her life, every nerve ending awakened and reminded her just how much of a woman she was.

  The urge to lift her hand to
Lars’s jaw and touch the spiky hairs there made her ball her fist beneath the cover. Slowly, she drew it out. With her fingers hovering just short of his skin, she watched his face in repose. Without the glare, he might be called handsome. Who was she kidding? Even with the thunderous expressions and lowered brows he wore nonstop, the man was still hot as hell.

  Her breathing grew uneven. She couldn’t touch him.

  Too late.

  Without conscious thought, she skimmed her fingertips over his jaw. The prickles underneath her fingers sent shockwaves of desire through her system. While she knew she should pull back, she continued to stretch her fingers over his jaw to his cheek.

  Studying his tanned skin and a small divot of a scar near the corner of his lips, she became aware of the throb between her thighs. The ache increased and her panties grew wet. A soft sigh trickled from her parted lips.

  Lars returned the noise with a low growl.

  Her gaze shot to his, and she found his stare penetrating her.

  She reached for him, and her lips touched his first. He deepened the caress at once, angling his head and seeking more from her. Nibbling at her lips with a demand she never knew before from any man and probably never would again. His low hum of want slicked through her body, and she surrendered to Lars’s kisses.

  As he probed at the seam of her lips, hot need rushed up. She moaned.

  He tore his mouth free, and she feared he would shove her away a second time. “Fuck,” he said and slammed his mouth over hers again.

  When his tongue slipped against hers, she jolted. He didn’t taste like bad morning breath. In fact, she swore she tasted a trace of Russian vodka on his lips and tongue. The only way to be sure was to move closer.

  She wiggled into his embrace, and he tore the blanket and sheet down her body. Under her top, her nipples hardened with desire and the brush of cooler air. God, if only he’d touch them, circle each bud with his callused fingertip until she writhed and begged for more…

  He peeled the covers down farther and then gripped her hip and yanked her flush against his steely body. Oh God, she wouldn’t survive this man. One way or another, he’d finish her off and she’d never be the same again. She only hoped he gave her the pleasure she craved instead of pushing her away.