Under His Protection (8 page)

Being around her day in and day out, seeing
her just before she went to bed, and first thing in the morning, it
both turned him on and pissed him off. Being with her so closely,
it made him want things. Things he couldn’t have.

It frustrated her too. The attraction
between them was palpable, getting harder to deny. Rather than
spend time with him, Blake had avoided him as much as possible. She
was cold and distant, barely speaking to him unless she had to. The
disdain had radiated from her in powerful waves, smacking him right
in the chest, a direct hit to the heart.

Oh yeah, and to the groin. His cock had
wanted to shrivel up and die. It sucked to be on Blake Hewitt’s
hate list.

Now that he held her close, her slender form
pressed directly against him, he realized he needed to be in her
good graces again. He wanted to touch her, offer her comfort in
other closer, more feel-good-type ways.

Nothing new there. The urge was so strong,
stronger than it had ever been. And he was so tired of fighting it.
He always fought it.

For once, just once, he wanted to give
in.

He moved his hand, resting it on the back of
her head, sinking into her soft hair. The strands tangled around
his fingers and he stroked down, until he reached the curling ends.
Watched them fall from his fingertips to rest once more against her
back.

She sighed, nuzzling her face closer,
pressed against the spot where his neck and shoulder met. He could
feel her hot breath on his skin, the faint dampness of her tears
and he closed his eyes, swallowed hard.

Mason stroked her hair again and again,
unable to stop. Loving the way the soft tumbling mass sifted
through his fingers. Her subtle fragrance wafted upward, filling
his senses with the scent of flowers and rain and the barest hint
of spice and heat.

“That feels good,” she whispered, her warm
lips brushing against his neck when she spoke.

God, so did that, he wanted to say, but he
held back. Not ready to reveal how he really felt.

Eventually, she’d use it against him and
sucker that he was, he’d let her.

He dropped his hand away from her and she
lifted her head, her gaze meeting his. Glistening blue eyes stared
up at him, her nose red, her lips puffy and swollen. She looked a
mess.

She looked beautiful.

He pushed her hair away from her forehead,
his fingers lingering on her soft skin. “Are you okay?”

With a nod, she smiled, though it didn’t
quite reach her eyes. “I am now.”

This was what she’d wanted all this time.
After all the flirtation, the taunting dance in the window and the
frustrating, petty arguments, she’d finally landed in his arms.

And he wanted her there. Hell, he’d always
wanted her there. But before it had been about her sweet little ass
and the swell of her breasts and her pretty face, landing her in
his bed to satisfy the sexual urges he’d fought since the moment he
saw her.

Now though, after spending so much time with
her, he was starting to feel something. Seeing her distressed, so
upset and not know why or who made her act this way, frustrated the
hell out of him. Angered him. Made him want to shelter her, and not
just because it was his job.

It was because he cared for her.

“Tell me why you’re crying.” It wasn’t a
question. He needed to know.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Boyfriend trouble?” He smiled, trying to
make light of it. He wanted to see her smile for real, wanted to
hear her laugh.

Her expression didn’t shift. She was one
hundred percent serious as she whispered, “You know I don’t have a
boyfriend. I don’t want any other man.”

The words
except you
settled into his
brain, unsaid but heard nevertheless. He knew what she was saying.
It was as if he could read her mind, read her eyes, read everything
about her.

Unable to resist, Mason touched her cheek,
surprised at the softness, the warmth he felt there. She parted her
lips, still damp from her crying, and he wanted them damp from his
kisses instead.

“Mason,” she whispered. The sound aching and
needy, it called to his achy and needy heart.

Leaning in, he dipped his head, his mouth
hovering above hers. He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t kiss her,
because once his lips touched hers, there was no going back. He
didn’t think he’d be strong enough to stop.

She slid her hands up his arms, her palms
lingering, softly stroking and he breathed deep, tried to gain some
sort of control. He had no idea her touch could affect him so
strongly. Had no idea
she
could affect him so strongly.

This little bit of a woman, with the
troubled and vulnerable heart, was slowly squirming into is life.
And he didn’t want to stop her.

Blake wrapped her arms around his neck,
buried her fingers in his hair. Her caresses felt good, so good. He
closed his eyes, his strength, his resistance slipping away with
every breath he took, every tender touch she gave him.

And because he wasted too much time, Blake
took matters into her own hands. Tilting her head, she brushed her
mouth against his. It was as if a spark ignited between them. Harsh
and bright, burning so fast he was instantly consumed.

Just like that. Overwhelmed with sensation,
with the fact he was actually kissing Blake.

And as predicted, he didn’t want to
stop.

Mason wrapped his arm around Blake, cradling
her close with such gentleness, she wanted to weep. He cupped her
cheek with his other hand, his fingers stroking, cherishing her,
touching her so gently she wanted to weep. Oh, and his mouth, firm
and strong and soft all at once. Coaxing her with delicious
persistence, her lips parted with his every stroke until finally,
his tongue touched the center of her bottom lip before it swept the
interior of her mouth.

She wanted to die from bliss. Her dream had
finally come true. In Mason’s arms, his mouth locked on hers,
breathing his breath, touching him. His hair was silky soft,
curling around her fingers and she tunneled them into the thick
mass, clutching his head close.

It was as if she couldn’t stop touching
him.

She opened her mouth wider, letting him in,
and he took advantage. His tongue curled around hers, the kiss
turning instantly deep and hot. He clutched her face almost
desperately and she shifted closer, wanting to be next to him, on
top of him, all over him.

As if reading her mind, he hauled her close
until she toppled over him. Their mouths still fused, she slid her
hands down, over his firm shoulders, his hard as granite arms.
Across his broad chest, she rested her palm against the center,
over his racing heart. It thundered against her hand, nearly as
fast as her own, and it thrilled her. She affected him just as much
as he did her.

She wanted him naked. She wanted him inside
her. There was no need for foreplay, no need for the preamble that
usually came with sex. Her panties were soaked, her breasts full
and achy and her body tingled for more. They’d get to the good and
slow stuff later.

Right now, she wanted it hard and fast.

Straddling his hips, she pushed him against
the back of the couch, nipping at his lips with her teeth, her
hands fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt. She made contact with
bare, hot flesh and he shivered at her touch, making her smile.

Making him break the kiss.

Blake opened her eyes to find him staring at
her, his lips swollen and parted, his breathing accelerated, as if
he’d just run a long and exhausting race.

She felt much the same way. Her heart beat
so hard, she was sure he could see it throb beneath her shirt and
she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, trying to find
words.

He found them first.

“Blake.” The tone of his voice set off about
a thousand alarms, all of them clanging loudly, ringing in her
ears. “We...can’t.”

Shaking her head, she rested a single finger
against his mouth, silencing him. She stroked his soft bottom lip
with the tip of her finger, learning the curve of it, remembering
the way it felt pressed to hers only moments ago. “Don’t say
it.”

Mason shifted beneath her, trying to get her
off him, but she clung, curling her other hand around his shoulder
as if she never wanted to let go. “We need to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.
You
don’t want
to stop.”

“We have to. I can’t do this.” His voice was
strangled, his body tense beneath hers and slowly, silently, she
gave in. Her heart sinking deep, deeper until it was as if it
disappeared.

She allowed him to shift her body off him,
didn’t utter one word in protest when he plopped her onto the couch
next to him. Closing her eyes against the overwhelming pain, she
tried to calm her racing heart. To be so close, touching him and
kissing him and then ruthlessly denied, was almost too much to
take.

It
was
too much to take. She wanted
to cry all over again over this man who she secretly, foolishly
believed was worth her tears.

“I’m sorry, Blake.”

“Please.” She opened her eyes, saw the
sorrowful expression on his face. He looked guilt-ridden,
physically pained with it, and she wanted to punch him. “You don’t
need to explain.”

He stood, thrusting a hand through his hair,
messing it up even more than it already was. She was the reason his
hair was disheveled. Her fingers literally ached to touch him
again.

God, could she deal with this? Being denied
Mason? Yet spending the next few weeks with him, pretending this
kiss never happened?

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fine.” She stood as well, thrusting her
chin up, oddly defiant after being nearly shattered by his
rejection. “Get out.”

A shadow fell across his eyes and she
noticed the tick in his jaw. Looked like macho agent man didn’t
like hearing what she had to say. Or how she said it.

Too damn bad.

“Blake...”

“No. Don’t try and tell me this is the right
thing to do or how you wished it never happened. I don’t want to
hear it. Get. Out.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the
silence between them uncomfortable, filling the house, filling her
head, her heart. So many unspoken words, so many things she wanted
to say, but she’d never get the chance. All because he was too
stubborn, too duty-burdened to just chuck it all and go after what
he really wanted.

And she knew after that kiss, their
passionate embrace, how his heart had beat so fast beneath her
palm, he wanted her.

It was little consolation.

His shoulders slumped, he turned and walked
toward the front door, his steps slow, his appearance one of
defeat. Funny, since she was the one who felt like she had just
raged a bloody war and came out the loser.

He stopped at the door, his back to her. She
could barely hear him when he started to speak. But then his words
rang clear.

“I don’t wish this never happened.”

Shock flooding her, Blake watched Mason
opened the door and walk out.

* * * *

Mason barreled down the road, running as if
the devil himself nipped at his heels. Thick, early morning fog
swirled around him, shrouding his vision, the damp mist smacking
him right in the face. It cooled him down, calmed him, made him
feel as if he was the only person awake, alive.

He knew that wasn’t true. Hell, he could see
Blake moving about inside through the large windows that lined the
front of the house, the lights bright in the kitchen. Even from
this distance, he saw she wore an oversized T-shirt that
overwhelmed her slim figure, her long legs clad in pink and green
polka dot pajama pants. Her long blonde hair piled on top of her
head in a haphazard knot, tendrils hanging around her pretty
face.

He cursed himself. Damn, his vision was
always perfect where Blake was concerned. His memory was real sharp
too, since it had relived every moment of the previous night on a
continuing loop. Driving him crazy, making him want to say screw it
and give in to his now not-so-secret needs.

But his job, the vow he’d made to protect
her, prevented him from doing that. Damn it, he was going to do his
job even if it killed him. And he refused to let Blake distract
him.

No matter how good she’d felt in his arms,
soft and pliant and curving around him. Her mouth on his, how she
tasted, the way she touched him. Her tongue sliding against his,
her breasts crushed to his chest.
Hell.

Yeah, he tried to forget, but it was
useless. She had to be furious with him. He was mad at himself, but
for different reasons. Pushing her away had been one of the most
difficult things he’d ever done.

And he’d done a lot of difficult things in
his lifetime.

He’d crawled out of bed early even for him
when he’d realized sleep was futile. Taken a hot shower, turning
the faucet to full blown cold right before he shut it off, leaving
him gasping. The icy water hadn’t gotten rid of his hard-on though,
so he’d jacked off yet again to thoughts of Blake.

This agony he put himself through was
twisted. It wasn’t right. Denying himself like this, something he
normally didn’t do. He wanted something, he went after it. Whether
it be a job, a goal or a woman, he pretty much always got what he
wanted. All it took was pure determination and a little bit of
grit.

If he so chose, he knew he could walk into
that house right now, press her against the kitchen counter and
take her from behind, she’d let him. Hell, she’d probably beg him
for it. Cry out when he entered her, coming all over his cock in
mere seconds.

That image had him tripping over his own
goddamn feet.

Wiping at the sweat on his forehead, he
shook his head. This wasn’t his style. And it was screwing with him
like nothing ever had.