Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1) (12 page)

“Um?” What was I gonna say? Wait, what
was the question?

Fuuuuck it. I’ll just ignore him. I
picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the sauce. Wait, what was I
doing? I need to drain the pasta. Did this kitchen even have a
colander?

I didn’t know, so I just stirred the
sauce some more. Suddenly, a warm hand gripped my arm, then spun me
around. I was met with stormy blue eyes.

I giggled. “Hi, Cowboy.”

He narrowed those beautiful eyes at
me. The dark lashes framing them were just too much. “I asked you a
question.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I said, “What
was the question?”

I noticed the wooden spoon was still
in my hand and was dripping sauce all over the floor. As if in slow
motion, I looked at the drips, then the spoon, and without
thinking, I brought it up to my mouth. My tongue snaked out and
licked the sauce, from the base to the tip of the spoon while I
stared unblinking at Duke, waiting for him to tell me what his
question had been.

“Holy fuck,” I heard him whisper, his
eyes now fixated on my mouth.

I was suddenly acutely aware of how
his hard chest was almost pressed against mine. While one hand
still held the spoon, the other reached up. My fingertips grazed
his rock-hard pec under his T-shirt. My eyes flicked back up to
his.

Before I could register what was
happening, his mouth crashed down onto mine, his right arm snaking
around my waist and then down to my ass, grabbing it with his
strong hands, pushing my body into his.

Wait.

Duke was kissing me. What the hell?
He’s not supposed to kiss me! He’s a jerk. I don’t like him. I bit
his lip – hard. He pulled himself away from me, his thumb grazing
his bottom lip.

“You bit me!” he said,
incredulous.

“You kissed me!” I replied, as if I
had to remind him.

He stared at me dumbfounded for a few
seconds, then said, “You were licking… you were ignoring me when I
asked… you were giggling… oh, my God. What the hell is
that?”

He reached around me and picked up my
bottle of bourbon, holding it up. “Where did you get this,
Blondie?”

I shrugged and giggled.

Hiccup.

“My spaghetti’s burning,” was all I
said.

Turning my back on him once again I
began to rummage through the cabinets for something to drain the
pasta in. I grinned as I located a colander and placed it in the
sink. Before I could pick up the heavy pot of water and noodles,
Duke spun me around and pinned me against the countertop. This
time, he pressed his hard body into mine, while shoving the booze
bottle into my face.

“Where. Did. You. Get. This?” he
asked.

Jerking a thumb behind me at the
cabinet in which I was now pressed against, I said with a grin, “In
there. You want some?”

It didn’t go unnoticed by me that he
was pressing a very hard member of his body against my belly. I
kinda liked it though, and began to wonder what he was working with
under those jeans.

He sighed and pushed off of me,
scrubbing a hand over his beard and storming out of the kitchen
with my bottle of contraband in his hand.

Damn him!

I continued to make the spaghetti,
hoping the noodles were done.

Aside from the roaring of my blood in
my ears, the kitchen was awfully quiet. After carefully draining
the noodles, in which I’m shocked I did not spill, I let them cool
in the sink and put my hands on my hips. Looking around the
kitchen, I spotted a small transistor radio, complete with antenna,
and smiled. This kitchen was looking more like my grandmother’s by
the minute. I walked over to it and picked it up. It was plugged
into the wall by a black cord and it took me a few seconds to
figure out how to turn it on. It crackled to life and soon, Patsy
Cline was crooning though the tiny scratchy speakers. I used the
side dial to adjust the station and smiled at the old country
song.

Humming along to
I Fall To Pieces
, I
carefully began to mix the sauce with the noodles, layering them in
a small dish with cheese.

Hiccup.

Still humming along to the song, I
smiled at what had just happened. That Duke, not so tough, is he? I
had showed him. He shouldn’t have kissed me, as much as I might
have liked the temporary feel of his hot mouth on mine.

My fingers slid up to touch my lips
where his had just been. The feel of his hand on my ass as it
squeezed. Lord knows I have enough back there to grab. He
definitely liked it, too. I smiled.

Once the spaghetti was mixed, I called
out, “Spaghetti’s ready!” and then giggled at my little
rhyme.

Seeing double, I fumbled around in the
kitchen until I found some plates and set them on the counter.
Still humming to another classic country song, I scooped some onto
a plate, and groaned when it splattered on my shirt. Then I giggled
when I realized I had already splattered sauce on me long ago while
cooking.

Noticing Duke hadn’t shown, I yelled
out again, “Spaghetti!” and sat at the small table after grabbing a
fork.

I was starving. Forking some spaghetti
into my mouth, I groaned at how delicious it was. I was proud of
myself for improvising and totally slaying this meal. I then
realized that the meal was almost gone. Why did I eat it
alone?

Placing my plate in the sink, I went
out to the small living room to see Duke sitting in front of the
TV, watching some sort of sports. I leaned on the doorjamb between
the kitchen and living room and said, “What, you have something
against spaghetti?” Then I giggled.

Hiccup.

He turned to look at me and said,
“No.” He then turned his face back to the TV.

Nodding, I said nothing more and went
back into the kitchen. I spooned some the meal I’d worked so hard
on to a plate and went into the fridge and grabbed a can of iced
tea. I spied a large curio cabinet in the corner of the ancient
kitchen and opened its old doors. They squealed on unoiled hinges
and I looked inside. There was a medium-sized sterling silver
serving platter and I suppressed a giggle as I removed it. It
wasn’t as dusty as I thought it would be but I wiped it down anyway
with a dishtowel.

Placing the plate, a napkin, knife and
fork on top of it, and the can of tea on it, I carried it out on
one hand like back in my college waitressing days and walked out to
the living room. Honestly, I was surprised I didn’t drop the damn
thing. I was still sorta seeing double.

Smiling, I stood right in front of
him, blocking the TV. His eyes slowly traveled from my stomach, up
my chest, neck, lips, then to my eyes. “You’re blocking my
view.”

Since I was already being a brat, I
decided to lay it on thicker. Turning my head around to glance at
the TV, I turned back around and said, “Oh, but this view is so
much better. So much deliciousness.”

His eyes went wide momentarily, and I
had to bite back a laugh as I slowly leaned forward and placed the
tray on his lap. He grabbed it because he had to, and then I stood
up. “A peace offering for biting you.”

Grunting in response, he said nothing
else, and picked up the fork and began twirling spaghetti around on
it.

I walked away, satisfied with myself
for some reason, and yelled out, “You’re welcome.”

“You have sauce all over your
shirt.”

Laughing from the kitchen, I pulled it
off over my head and with a few dramatic twirls, I tossed it into
the living room and snorted when it smacked him in the back of the
head and landed on the sofa cushion behind him.

Chapter 15

Duke

I reached behind my head and pulled
the assaultive fabric around to inspect it. Her white T-shirt,
splattered with red sauce but smelling deliciously like her, was
gripped in my fist. Resisting the urge to put it up to my nose and
really inhale it, I tossed it aside and continued
eating.

Damn, she could make a mean
spaghetti!

Wait. She just took her shirt off.
That must mean she’s shirtless in the kitchen. I inhaled my food
faster than I should have, scraping the plate until it was gone. I
never left food on my plate. Not ever.

I got up to put it in the sink,
because I was a gentleman like that, and stopped dead in my tracks
when I saw her at the sink washing dishes. The jeans she wore
hugged that curvaceous ass of hers, and she had nothing but a white
bra on. Her back muscles clenched as her hands worked on the dishes
in a sink full of suds. Dammit, why did she have to drink? I had
the sudden urge to touch her. I wanted to put my hands on her waist
and run them up and down and feel her soft skin.

Real professional,
Duke,
I chided myself with a shake of my
head.

But really, how was I supposed to
remain professional? I was a 28-year-old dude who, admittedly,
hadn’t had sex in weeks. Okay it had been months. I
think.

Adjusting myself behind my pants, I
walked over to her and decided since I was so bored, I was going to
have some fun with her. Placing myself up behind her but not
touching her, I leaned down and whispered into the side of her
face, “Do you need any help?”

She didn’t flinch. She must have been
expecting me. She shook her head slowly. “I think I can handle
dishes, Special Agent.”

Grabbing her shirt, which was hanging
out of the pocket of my jeans, I slipped part of it into the small
gap at the back of her jeans where, if I pulled them down just a
little, I’d be able to make out exactly what kind of tattoo she had
stamped there on her lower back. Instead, I shoved the shirt in it,
and let it dangle over her very fine ass.

She gasped a little, then giggled,
then hiccupped.

Arching an eyebrow, I stood next to
her at the sink and said, “I hope there are no sharp utensils in
there.”

Rayanne shook her head and said, “Just
a pot, a skillet, and a wooden spoon, two forks and two
plates.”

My fingers twitched. They wanted to
touch the bare skin on her back. Her hair was short, so I could see
her bare neck and it was taunting me to touch it. I wanted to kiss
it, lick it.

Fuck…

“You can dry,” she suddenly said,
bending over and pulling a dish towel from the cabinet near her
knees where she stood. She tossed it behind her and I caught it.
She still hadn’t turned around, even when I’d shoved her shirt into
the back of her jeans.

I tossed the towel over my shoulder
but stayed behind her. I couldn’t take this anymore. My fingers
skated up the smooth planes of her back and I slid one finger under
her bra strap and stretched the material as I swung my finger back
and forth underneath it, caressing her soft skin.

She shuddered, and I
smiled.

“Dry the dishes, Cowboy,” she
whispered.

“No,” I said back.

She stopped washing and slowly turned
around and looked up at me, her warm, honey-colored eyes skating
back and forth between mine. “What are you doing?”

“Punishing you for disobeying me,” I
replied, trying not to grin.

Her eyes momentarily widened in
surprise, but I felt her body lean in to mine, as if on its own. “I
didn’t disobey you.”

I nodded, my hand now lying flat
against her bare belly, my other hand squeezing her waist. “You
did. I said no alcohol.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, then she shook
her head. “No, you said you wouldn’t buy me any wine at the store.
There’s a difference.”

“You have a sassy mouth.”

“Then why don’t you shut me up?” she
whispered.

For the second time tonight, I leaned
down and pressed my lips against hers. She didn’t bite me this
time, instead, she crushed her chest against mine, and wrapped one
leg around my backside as I lifted her onto the counter and kissed
her. My tongue snaked into her mouth and hers mingled with mine.
She tasted sinful. I could feel the heat radiating from between her
legs as I ground my hips into her open thighs. I wanted to rip off
her bra, then her pants, in that order, and plunge into her. Damn
she was making me crazy.

Her soapy wet fingers slithered up my
shoulder, across my neck, then into my beard. She lightly scratched
my face with her fingernails, and if I thought I was hard before, I
now think my dick could probably drill through wood, if it had
to.

It was painful.

“Damn, woman. We should not be doing
this,” I said when I broke away from her mouth to lick and suck at
her neck.

“I know. Especially right now,” she
replied, breathless.

“Why’s that?” I murmured.

“Because it’s not a good time of… “
She put her mouth back on mine.

I was trying to figure out what she
was saying but my head was swimming with all the lusty thoughts of
what I was going to do after I ripped her clothes off.

Wait a second. Weren’t we at the store
to buy… feminine products? Gah. I pulled away from her and said, “I
need to get out of here.”