The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones (24 page)

“No, of course not. That's what I wanted. But there have been so many details to work out. I've been overwhelmed. Finding the right dress. I must have changed about fifteen times. Then I had to plan the right dinner. Something elegant, but easy to eat and prepare. And something that didn't need perfect timing. I mean, what if you'd instantly swept me off my feet? I wanted to be able to turn off the oven and not have dinner ruined.”

“What else?”

She shook her head. “I didn't know which tablecloth to use. Red was too Christmassy and white was too, I don't know, weird, I guess. Like it was a wedding or something. And then there was the whole issue of birth control.”

“You planned ahead?”

“Of course. I mean, what if you weren't prepared? I didn't think of that, by the way, Beth did.”

“You've talked this over with her?”

“In detail.” She clutched the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turned white. He could see the muscles in her arms tightening. “She told me to go for it.”

“I always liked Beth,” he murmured, more and more intrigued by this side of Cindy. She'd really thought this through. She wanted to be with him and had made it happen. He wondered if any other woman in his life had ever cared so much. He wondered if he ever had.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Nothing. You were explaining about the birth control.”

“I didn't know what to get. I haven't been on the Pill since the divorce so I needed something for me, and Beth reminded me to buy condoms. This is the nineties, and I do want to be sensible. Do you know how many kinds of condoms there are?” She spun to face him and grimaced. “About a dozen brands, all these different types, with strange descriptions. What does it all mean? I was so confused. I had to stand there reading packages, like some pervert. Plus, I had to drive clear into the city so I could find a drugstore where no one would know me.”

“I hope you bought large ones.”

“What?” The color drained from her face. “What did you say?”

“What size box?”

“Oh.” Some of the color returned, although most of it centered in a bright spot on her cheeks. “I don't know. The little one. I think it has three inside.”

He pushed off the doorframe and started toward her. On the way, he paused long enough to turn off the oven.

“Mike?” She glanced around as if trying to back up. Only the kitchen sink was behind her. She was trapped.

“Only three,” he said, stopping in front of her and lowering his mouth to hers. “That won't be nearly enough.”

Chapter Fourteen

H
is lips were firm. The kiss didn't last but a moment, still she felt it all the way to her toes...and her soul. Her arms hung at her sides and she curled her fingers into her palms. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to hold him and be held, only it wasn't that simple.

She broke free of the kiss, then sidestepped, slipping past him and the island, heading for the dining room. Once there, she stared at the perfectly set table and sighed. It had been a mistake from the beginning. She wasn't the seducing kind.

“You can leave now,” she said.

Mike followed her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You can't believe that's what I want.”

It was a lot easier to have this conversation without looking at him, so she continued to study the flowers she'd purchased that afternoon. “I know you wouldn't want to hurt me. We're friends, and you care about me. That caring might make you do something you'd otherwise rather not do. I'm not saying you'd have to grit your teeth and think of England, but maybe you're being pushed in a direction you don't want to go. I don't want that.”

“I'm a grown man, Cindy. I know how to say no. Right now, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. There's no one else I'd rather be with. This isn't about you seducing me, it's about me finally giving in to what I've wanted from the moment we met. Do you know what my first thought was when I was lying on my sister's sofa, more dead than alive?”

She could barely remember their meeting. Probably because he was rubbing his palms up and down her bare arms. The combination of heat and friction made it difficult to think about anything but what she was feeling. She wanted to lean back against him, against his hard, lean strength. Instead, she forced herself to murmur, “No.”

“I couldn't lift my head, so all I saw were these beautiful, honey-colored thighs. I remember thinking it was very nice of God to insist angels walk around naked.”

In spite of feeling incredibly stupid and exposed, Cindy smiled. “I'm hardly an angel.”

“You're right about that.” He turned her until she was facing him. “You're a woman, and I want to make love with you.”

His brown eyes blazed with passion. He might be able to fake the affection in his voice or the gentleness of his touch, but she doubted he would be able to invent a fire that bright without some passion to fuel it.

She wanted to believe, she needed to more than anything. Of its own accord, her hand came up and touched his jawline. The skin was smooth; he'd shaved before coming over.

She wanted to ask if he was sure. She wanted to believe it didn't matter if he wasn't. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet so she could stop thinking so much. Instead, she said, “I haven't been with anyone but Nelson. For all I know, I'm doing something terribly wrong. Promise you won't laugh?”

He smiled. “Don't you know I don't care what you do or don't do? I just want to be with you and touch you. I want to taste every part of you. I want to listen to your breathing as the promise of ecstasy makes you gasp for air. I want you to scream my name and beg for more. I want to be in you, hard and deep until you can't do anything but feel.”

She stared at him, then blinked. “I'm not much of a screamer.”

“That's all you got from that?”

“Well, my knees are shaking a little.”

“Let's make them shake a lot.”

He leaned over the table and grabbed a single white rose. After handing it to her, he bent down and picked her up in his arms. She shrieked and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“I would have thought it was obvious.”

He was strong, his hold on her secure, but she didn't like the feeling of being so out of control. “The bedroom is less than twenty feet away. I could have walked.”

“That's romantic,” he said, stepping into the bedroom and kicking the door closed behind him. He walked to the bed and set her down next to it. He took the rose and put it on the nightstand.

Cindy glanced around the room and winced. She'd removed the comforter and drawn back the sheets. Small unlit candles covered her dresser. There was something sheer and lacy on the counter in the bathroom, just in case.

“Call me subtle,” she said miserably.

Mike didn't answer. He sat on the edge of the high mattress and grabbed her wrist. He tugged until she was forced to step between his parted thighs.

This had all been a mistake, she thought grimly. She should never have tried the seduction thing. She just didn't have the experience to be good at it. Now, glancing around at her preparations, she felt like a foolish child wishing after the moon. Or a teenager worshiping a rock star. All she needed was Mike's picture on the wall.

When the front of her thighs bumped the insides of his, Cindy returned her attention to what was going on. Mike's hands rested on her waist and he was urging her closer. The fire inside of him burned so hot she could feel the flames. They lit an answering spark within her. The spark flared to life, growing until it threatened to consume her. It burned away her doubts and questions until only need was left behind.

“Kiss me,” he commanded.

She complied willingly.

His position on the bed put him slightly below eye level. She bent her head until their lips touched. She wasn't sure what she expected, maybe a wild assault, maybe cool disinterest. Instead, his lips clung to hers, touching, sharing, but not taking. She could feel the soft pressure as he moved his head slightly, fitting them together. She raised her arms and placed them around his neck. His hands settled on her back. As she moved closer, he pulled her next to him. From chest to thigh they touched.

His heat was like a sensual blanket. It swept over her shoulders wrapping her in a thick cloak of need. A tremor raced through her, then another. Yet they were only kissing, as chastely as virgin lovers who might yet be separated.

She stroked the back of his neck. His haircut was still painfully new. She could feel the first hints of stubble, then the military-short strands. She traced the shape of his ears, his jaw. Smoother skin there, but different from her own.

He shifted, splaying his legs more until her thighs settled against his groin. She could feel the hardness of him, straining against his shorts. He couldn't fake that, either. She relaxed, giving herself up to the sensual experience.

He chose the moment of her surrender to test the seam of her mouth. She parted for him instantly, anticipating the sweet taste of him and the pleasure he would bring. He didn't disappoint her. His tongue swept across hers. Shivers raced down her arms and chest, settling in her breasts. She drew in a deep breath, to bring her more in contact with him. The action didn't ease the aching she felt there, or between her legs. Even her lacy, silk bra felt scratchy and thick.

He broke the kiss, only to trail kisses across her jaw and down her neck. He licked the hollow of her throat, traced a moist path to the neckline of her dress, then moved lower still and gently bit the puckered tip of her breast.

She sucked in her breath. Through the layers of clothing, she felt the pressure of his teeth. Involuntarily, her hips arched toward him, her head arched back. Breath caught in her throat. She squeezed his shoulders, silently begging for more.

Over and over he raked his teeth against the sensitive nub. The hands at her waist held her in place. If she'd had the strength, she would have laughed. She had no plans to leave. But as she swayed slightly, unable to keep her balance under his sensual assault, she thought he might not be holding her still as much as holding her up.

She clung to him. Her fingers weaved through his silky, short hair. She cupped his head, finally urging him to taunt her other breast the same way.

His ministrations there were twice as sweet. Her legs trembled violently. Her breathing was rapid gasps. She could feel the moist heat between her thighs. She was shaken and ready for him, and they both still had their clothes on.

“Sweet Cindy,” he murmured against her chest. “Tell me you like this.”

“Are you kidding?” she gasped.

He raised his head and looked at her. A slow, satisfied, very male sort of smile stretched across his face. She wondered if she should be offended or at least protest the power he had over her. Before she could decide, he began pulling her zipper down and she found she didn't really care what he did, as long as he didn't ever stop.

He slipped the dress over her shoulders. It slid down easily, falling into a pool at her feet. His gaze moved from her face to her breasts, then lower. She felt it as tangibly as a touch. Her skin was both hot and cold, and she held on to his shoulders as the only solid thing in her spinning world.

“I knew you'd be this beautiful,” he whispered, then kissed her collarbone.

She wanted to protest she wasn't beautiful. She was slightly over thirty, she'd had two children and she hadn't won the battle with those last couple of pounds. But he didn't seem to care and she decided not to point those facts out to him.

His fingers moved up and down her spine, creating spirals of need and anticipation. His hands slipped over her hips, then cupped her buttocks tightly. Finally, he moved down her legs to the backs of her knees, then up, repeating the journey in reverse.

Every muscle, every inch of skin longed for the brush of his fingers. As he touched her, heat flared to life, leaving tiny points of flame lit all over. He again trailed kisses down her chest, to her breasts, but this time he dipped lower. He licked the sensitive valley between her breasts, then bent his head and bit the skin over her ribs.

His breath tickled her, his hands taunted her, his mouth left her trembling and weak. It had never been like this before. Mike loved all of her, touching her everywhere, bringing her to the highest pitch of arousal she'd ever known. He didn't just stroke her breasts for a few minutes, then move his hand lower to bring her to the point of completion. He seemed to have forgotten there was a destination and was instead enjoying the journey for its own sake.

His hands moved back up her spine. Before he could taunt her again with a nibble on her side, she placed her hand under his jaw and forced him to look at her.

“Kiss me,” she commanded.

“Yes, ma'am.” He puckered his lips obligingly.

She smiled. “I didn't expect to laugh.”

“What did you expect?”

“To feel awkward and out of place. I was afraid I was going to lie on the bed like a piece of wood, wondering how I was going to explain my lack of response.”

“That doesn't say much about my technique.”

“This was just a little more about my fears than your ability.”

“And now?” he asked.

“I'm on fire.”

She lowered her mouth to his. This time she was the one to brush his lips with hers. She learned the shape of him, then used her tongue to discover his taste. She swept over his lower lip and dipped inside, savoring the tightening of his muscles and the half-swallowed groan.

Still kissing him, she moved out of the V of his thighs, and nudged his knees together. She straddled him, bringing her waiting moistness in contact with his male need. Wiggling closer, making him writhe, she deepened the kiss, exploring all of him, learning what made him quake, what made him go still and what made that hardness flex against her.