long time ago, learning twice that caring for someone brought nothing but pain. I wasn’t going to make that mistake a third time. And I knew that being around Emily for any length of time was going to end with me caring way, way too much for her.
“You’ve got the Secret Service,” I told her. “That’s their job.” Then, despite the bitter taste rising in my mouth, I managed to add, “They’re the best in the world.”
“I don’t want the Secret Service,” she said. “I want you .”
Those final three words, in that wonderfully soft voice, almost burned through what was left of my self control. I could almost feel the fabric of her skirt under my palms: I’d grab her and pull her along the seat towards me so she flopped down on her back, mahogany hair streaming down over the edge of the seat like a waterfall. I’d hunker down atop her, one leg sliding between her thighs, making her gasp into my mouth as she felt the hard bulge at my groin. Then those soft lips would be under mine and—
Maybe I’d hear that gorgeous voice whoop and holler after all.
I forced the sound of her screaming her orgasm out of my head. “There are rules about this stuff,” I told her. “The President’s family is guarded by the Secret Service. I’m just a private contractor.”
She twisted a little more in her seat so that she was facing me more fully. That meant crossing her legs and the hem of her skirt rose a half-inch or so. Damn it, how could she manage to be so innocent and earnest and sexy as hell?
Her next words cleared all those thoughts from my mind. “But you used to be Secret Service.”
I think my mouth actually dropped open. “You dug into my background?” I felt the anger start and not just the usual slow-burning resentment over what happened. This was sharper and fresher, making my face heat.
Shame. I didn’t want her knowing. I wanted to be perfect in her eyes, which is so ridiculous it would have been laughable if it hadn’t hurt so much.
“I read up on you, yeah,” she said, crossing her arms. “I could pull some strings and get you reinstated.”
I sat there and stewed for a few seconds. Okay, so she knew. Nothing I could do about it now. And at least it provided a way out of this whole thing. “If you’ve read up on me, you know they don’t want me back,” I told her. “I got anger management issues.”
“You don’t seem angry.” She stared at me with those big, innocent eyes.
“Well, you’ve never seen me upset.”
We locked eyes again and, just to make her drop the whole thing, I let her see just a hint of that anger that burned inside me. Not just the surface stuff from what happened with the Secret Service, but the stuff from deep down inside, the stuff that’s so dark and thickly black it has no shape, no detail, just a boiling mass that’ll obliterate anything it touches.
I waited for her to back off. It always works. I’ve had Russian gangsters and Mexican drug lords take a step back when I give them that look. And at first, I thought it had worked on her, too. She shrank back, her eyes growing even bigger, and I felt bad.
But then it all went wrong. She rallied and leaned in towards me again and the look in her eyes was—
No! I don’t need your sympathy, dammit!
I closed my eyes and turned away, groping for the door handle. “Answer’s no,” I growled.
Emily
I put my hand out, but hesitated just before I touched him. God, he was so big, and right now every muscle was hard under his shirt. I’d gotten him angry and right now he put me in mind of one of the bulls back on my dad’s ranch when I was a kid. Once they got riled up, it was really dangerous to go near them.
There was another problem, too. Ever since he’d climbed into the car, I’d been trying to focus, trying to drag my mind away from fantasizing about what it would be like to touch him again. I hadn’t admitted to myself, until I saw him, just how
“You’ve got the Secret Service,” I told her. “That’s their job.” Then, despite the bitter taste rising in my mouth, I managed to add, “They’re the best in the world.”
“I don’t want the Secret Service,” she said. “I want you .”
Those final three words, in that wonderfully soft voice, almost burned through what was left of my self control. I could almost feel the fabric of her skirt under my palms: I’d grab her and pull her along the seat towards me so she flopped down on her back, mahogany hair streaming down over the edge of the seat like a waterfall. I’d hunker down atop her, one leg sliding between her thighs, making her gasp into my mouth as she felt the hard bulge at my groin. Then those soft lips would be under mine and—
Maybe I’d hear that gorgeous voice whoop and holler after all.
I forced the sound of her screaming her orgasm out of my head. “There are rules about this stuff,” I told her. “The President’s family is guarded by the Secret Service. I’m just a private contractor.”
She twisted a little more in her seat so that she was facing me more fully. That meant crossing her legs and the hem of her skirt rose a half-inch or so. Damn it, how could she manage to be so innocent and earnest and sexy as hell?
Her next words cleared all those thoughts from my mind. “But you used to be Secret Service.”
I think my mouth actually dropped open. “You dug into my background?” I felt the anger start and not just the usual slow-burning resentment over what happened. This was sharper and fresher, making my face heat.
Shame. I didn’t want her knowing. I wanted to be perfect in her eyes, which is so ridiculous it would have been laughable if it hadn’t hurt so much.
“I read up on you, yeah,” she said, crossing her arms. “I could pull some strings and get you reinstated.”
I sat there and stewed for a few seconds. Okay, so she knew. Nothing I could do about it now. And at least it provided a way out of this whole thing. “If you’ve read up on me, you know they don’t want me back,” I told her. “I got anger management issues.”
“You don’t seem angry.” She stared at me with those big, innocent eyes.
“Well, you’ve never seen me upset.”
We locked eyes again and, just to make her drop the whole thing, I let her see just a hint of that anger that burned inside me. Not just the surface stuff from what happened with the Secret Service, but the stuff from deep down inside, the stuff that’s so dark and thickly black it has no shape, no detail, just a boiling mass that’ll obliterate anything it touches.
I waited for her to back off. It always works. I’ve had Russian gangsters and Mexican drug lords take a step back when I give them that look. And at first, I thought it had worked on her, too. She shrank back, her eyes growing even bigger, and I felt bad.
But then it all went wrong. She rallied and leaned in towards me again and the look in her eyes was—
No! I don’t need your sympathy, dammit!
I closed my eyes and turned away, groping for the door handle. “Answer’s no,” I growled.
Emily
I put my hand out, but hesitated just before I touched him. God, he was so big, and right now every muscle was hard under his shirt. I’d gotten him angry and right now he put me in mind of one of the bulls back on my dad’s ranch when I was a kid. Once they got riled up, it was really dangerous to go near them.
There was another problem, too. Ever since he’d climbed into the car, I’d been trying to focus, trying to drag my mind away from fantasizing about what it would be like to touch him again. I hadn’t admitted to myself, until I saw him, just how
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