For Her Protection: 1 (Personal Protection) (10 page)

He pulled her hips back and guided himself to her aching
pussy. He dipped in then up. Even dripping with moisture he strained her walls,
stretching her with his fullness. He inched in, filling her so completely her
pussy quivered.

She hugged the skirt around her waist and pressed back, letting
him sink inside her until he reached her womb. He stilled and her chest heaved.

Connor bent over her, bringing his lips just shy of her ear.
“I said quiet, baby.”

She blinked, hearing the sound of her pants, and forced her
breaths and her body under control. Then he moved, hard and deep and with
excruciating precision against that place only he seemed to be able to access.
His arm circled her. He slipped his hand over her pussy, pressing against her
clit as he thrust inside her. Her insides trembled, her thighs shook. He
pounded her harder, shifting his cock deeper in her pussy while stroking her on
the outside.

Pressure mounted and his other hand dug into her hip as he
drove harder. His fingers swirled, working her just right. She was so full,
every sensitive place reached, commanded by his cock. Her breath caught, her
orgasm crested along her every cell. Connor’s hand left her then he withdrew
his cock. She collapsed forward, shaking with the orgasm only seconds away. He
eased her off the wall.

“That’s for teasing me, baby, you’ll have to wait for your
turn.”

Her eyes snapped open and she saw the look on his
face—savage desire. She could come without his help.

“On your knees,” he whispered.

She slid to the ground and knelt, opening her mouth, tongue
out the way he’d taught her. He held his thick cock in one hand and grabbed the
back of her hair with the other then slid himself over her tongue.

She tasted the mild flavor of herself on his smooth skin. He
pushed deeper into her mouth and the open denim of his jeans rubbed against her
neck. His cock reached the back of her throat but still he pushed deeper. She
relaxed her throat and took him, savoring the sensation of him hardening even
further in her mouth.

She made him hard, she made him lose control.

He pulled back then slid in. She tightened her lips and
rubbed her tongue over him. His hand shifted in her hair and she devoured him.
Sucking him as deeply as she could into her mouth in fast, slick movements. His
cock stiffened and he leaned a hand against the wall. He jerked, his cock
pushing to the back of her mouth, and warm saltiness spilled down her throat.
She swallowed and ran her tongue over him gently as he continued to twitch. His
other hand moved to her hair and held the side of her face.

She glanced up at him. His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw
clamped tight and pleasure streaked across his face. Her pussy throbbed. She
fought the urge to slide her hand between her legs and join him in release. His
lashes parted and he met her gaze. The tension in his features softened and he
took his cock from her mouth. He tilted her head back and stroked her jaw.

She turned her face and pressed her lips against his palm.
He guided her up and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her, gently sliding
his tongue between her lips and holding her tightly enough to absorb her into
him. She kissed him back, rubbing her hands over his broad back.

He pulled away and rested his head against the wall over her
shoulder. “I don’t know what you do to me.”

A sweet ache filled her chest. She rubbed her nose against
his neck, inhaling the magnificent scent of him. He kissed her temple and
patted her bottom.

“Come on, you still have a dress to buy.”

She blinked and looked up at him. He was actually not going
to let her finish. Her brows drew together.

“Don’t give me that saucy look. I’ll take care of it when
you’ve behaved yourself.”

“That’s just nasty.”

His smile, slow and cocky, lit his face. “No different than
what you were trying to do to me. Maybe next time you’ll know better.”

They wandered through the mall and into other stores. Connor
walked with his arm wrapped around her, keeping her close to him, his
fingertips brushing against the skin on her shoulder. Her body was on edge,
electrified and every touch built the wicked anticipation curling through her.

Every time she moved she felt him beside her, touching,
watching. He was more tuned into her than any human ever had been. Her body
strained toward him.
Touch
me
,
take
me
. He acted
the part of boyfriend while she had them both starring in an erotic,
lust-filled fantasy.

The fantasy washed over her with every affectionate gesture,
tempting her, fooling her, frightening the living shit out of her. Because
this—this
thing
between them—had to be an illusion. They were
playacting. In reality they’d never work. Charlize tried on more dresses and
purchased things she didn’t really need. Driven by nervous energy, she set
about abusing her credit card. They entered another store and she tried on a
flowing violet dress she never would have chosen if she hadn’t seen Connor’s
eyes light on it. She stepped out of the changing room and stood in front of
the mirror.

The ruched bust cradled her sweetly before tightening around
her waist, highlighting the hourglass curves of her torso then drifting into a
rippling violet skirt. She frowned at her reflection. The rich purple shade set
off her dark hair and pale skin, even made her eyes glow more golden.
Freaking
no
.

“That’s the one.”

She turned and faced Connor. He’d hardly said a word until
then. His gaze washed over her. Not like before, not a hungry sweep, but a
lingering, soft caress.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice tight.

Warmth spread through her chest. This wasn’t the effect she’d
been going for. The expression on his face made her weak. Made her feel sixteen
again, as if she was standing in front of a boy who could steal the muscles
right out of her thighs.

“Thank you,” she whispered then licked her lips. “It’s not
practical though.”

His brow creased. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to look like someone’s date—I want to look
like someone’s boss.” She turned away from him and gazed back at the mirror,
smoothing the skirt.
What a shame
,
it’s pretty damn gorgeous
.

“A real boss would wear whatever the fuck she wanted and not
give a crap about everyone else’s opinion.”

His words jutted along her stretched nerves, proving that
despite what he knew about her body, he knew nothing about her life. She spun
around. “Most bosses aren’t wearing dresses, they’re wearing three-piece suits.”
She stormed into the dressing room before he had a chance to hit her with one
of his condescending caveman expressions.

Panting, she stripped off the dress then jerked her jeans
back up over her legs. With just a few words, he’d shattered the illusion and
they were slammed back to reality where he was pushy, domineering and the
completely wrong man for her. Her hands slowed at the buttons at her waist and
she looked at the closed stall door.

The wrong man for her.

What made her think he wanted the position in the first
place? Maybe this was just passing time on the job for him. Maybe he was just a
fucking excellent actor. The thought cut into her ribs like a jigsaw, even
though she shouldn’t care. Her breaths shook and she smoothed her ponytail.
Tears stung her eyes. “Oh get a fucking grip.” She scoffed at her ridiculous
behavior. She must be having some kind of hormonal crisis. Or maybe her body
was reacting to how he’d tormented her sexually.

She opened the door. Connor stood outside. She pushed past
him. He scooped up the discarded dress and followed. Charlize pulled a plain
black knee-length dress with a beaded collar from a rack. Perfectly suitable
for the occasion. She ignored Connor’s watchful gaze and tried the dress on for
size. It fit.

Charlize paid for the dress and they left the store. He didn’t
wrap his arm around her and fuck…she missed his touch. Felt hollow without it.

“It’s time to eat,” Connor said, shifting the bags he
carried into one hand and reaching for hers with the other.

His thick fingers pushed between her slimmer ones and she
couldn’t help clinging to him.

They took the shopping bags to the car then went to one of
the restaurants outside the mall. A busty blonde waitress led them through the
throng of tables to a horseshoe booth at the rear of the room. The waitress’
gaze lingered a little too long on Connor and she gave him a pouty smile. Lucky
for her health she moved along. In the two minutes they’d interacted Charlize
had already thought of six ways she could kill the waitress with the heel of
her shoe.

They sat opposite each other in silence. Miss Perky Boobs
returned to take their order. Connor ordered a steak with pepper sauce and
Charlize ordered the same. The waitress walked away and Charlize caught the end
of a sly grin on Connor’s face. Crap, did she look like the giant jealous
infant she felt like?

“What?” she said.

Connor’s grin slipped wider over those perfect teeth of his.
“I was just thinking how much I like a woman who enjoys eating meat.” His gaze
darkened, told her he wasn’t talking about the steak she’d ordered.

The image flickered behind her eyes. Her on her knees,
gobbling up what he’d fed her—and loving every delicious inch of it. Her pussy,
still greedy, still frustrated, throbbed. Her tongue darted out and she poured
water from the jug on the table. “I’ve probably had more than my share of meat
today—perhaps I should’ve ordered salad.”

“You can never have too much meat.”

He looked far too smug, far too satisfied—especially for
someone who’d left her hanging. She filled up his glass as well then put down the
jug and picked up her drink. Connor raised his glass.

“I suppose you’re right. The tube steak I had earlier wasn’t
very satisfying.”

His glass came crashing back to the table. “You don’t think
it was good?”

She tried not to grin. So he wasn’t as infallibly confident
as he liked to ooze. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a good steak. I’m just saying it
wasn’t satisfying. I’m still hungry.”

“Oh…” The tiny wrinkle of doubt washed off his forehead. “It
wasn’t supposed to be. That was an appetizer.” His voice grew husky, promised
the main course was yet to come.

A ding sounded from her pocket and she pulled out her phone.
She frowned when she saw the message.

“What is it?” Connor asked.

“Just Dad’s caregiver, I asked her to message me after
seeing him.” She took in the two-line message.

“And?”

“She says he’s allowed her back for now.”

“That must be a relief?”

“Yeah,” she said but her energy suddenly felt zapped away.

“So what’s the deal with your dad? Seems like more than old
age.”

Charlize took a deep breath. Enough of her dad remained
intact for him to want his personal business kept secret, preferring others
considered him a recluse than a…what exactly was he?

“No it’s not old age. It’s a combination of things.”

“Such as?”

She tucked her phone away and looked at him. His attention
locked on her, impossible to brush aside.

“He had a stroke two years ago. It almost killed him but
they managed to save him. He had some minor brain damage. He should have
completely recovered, we were told—but he had a breakdown. Couldn’t stand being
made useless that way. Although I suspect he may have been close to breaking
before the stroke. He was never the same after Mom left.”

Connor’s expression didn’t shift, didn’t betray a thing. “But
you didn’t take over right away?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I was in college. Besides, my
uncle was there, was primed to take over and have things his own way. He wouldn’t
let me near the place.”

“So what changed?”

“Same as Dad—a stroke. But he didn’t make it.”

A thin line appeared between Connor’s brows. “They both had
strokes within two years of each other?”

“Yeah, while sitting in the exact same office.” She rubbed
the spot between her ribs, where a sinking sensation oozed. “It’s probably
hereditary.”

She blinked—the conversation had already strayed into
uncomfortable territory. “So I guess you’ll be glad when this is all over and
you can go back to running Crowe Security instead of having to play boyfriend,
huh?”

Something dark and raw shifted over Connor’s features. His
jaw hardened. The waitress reappeared, balancing large plates of food. She set
them down and Connor waited until she moved away before he spoke again.

“Is that what you think? That this is a game I’m playing to
pass the time?”

Charlize picked up her knife and fork and stared at the
steaming brown mess on her plate. A sharp pain tightened her chest at the idea she
might be right, but a slow, suffocating fear told her she might be wrong. “I
have no idea what this is.”

The plate disappeared from in front of her and her gaze
snapped up. Connor moved her dishes, silverware, napkin and glasses from the
middle of the table to the end against the wall. He looked at her from beneath
hooded brows and reached for her arm, urging her to move. The leather seat
shuffled against her thighs as she slid to the inside end of the booth. Connor
sat down beside her and reached an arm around her shoulders but not in a
casual, romantic way. The embrace pressed her to him, made her feel the heat of
his skin, the hardness of his body, but most of all he captured her, forced her
attention on him.

“I told you once, I don’t play games. I want you, Charlize,
and I’ve only just begun to have you. The sooner you figure that out and stop
fighting me, the sooner you can just enjoy it.”

Her back remained straight and she managed not to lean
against him. “It’s a bad idea, Connor. I’m not the girl you want, at least not
long-term.” She forced her head to turn, forced herself to look him in the eye.
“Aside from an obvious appreciation for my ass, I’m not even sure why you want
me at all.”

His jaw and his gaze softened then he leaned in, put his
mouth right next to her ear. “Is that it, baby? You’re feeling insecure, need
me to say some sweet shit to make you feel better?” His hand moved under the
table to her thigh, ran the length of her knee to her groin, made responding to
his question impossible. “Fine, but I can’t promise I’ll be good at it,” he
whispered.

He cupped her, his thumb pressing through her jeans in
exactly the right place. She gasped, sucking in a mouthful of air that tasted
of the peppery steam rising from her plate.

“Yeah I like more than your ass. I like the way you never
give up, the way you never give in.” His thumb moved, pushed the thick, hard
seam stitched into the denim between her legs. Using firm, shallow movements,
he massaged her, taunting her aching clit. “Except when it comes to this—when
it comes to this you give me everything.”

Her breath hitched. She heard the words and they melted her
insides. But it was his fingers that commanded her.

“But most of all, I like how you always try so damn hard.”

Need crawled through her body like the hunger of an addict,
bringing a sheen to her skin. Her hazy gaze flicked across the room. They were
sheltered in this corner, his actions concealed by the table and its white
cloth covering, but even so there was no hiding the intimacy of their bodies,
of his whispered words in her ear.

“Connor,” she said and clamped her hand over the one between
her legs.

She turned to him, her cheek scraped against the bristles on
his chin. They were chin to chin, eye to eye, lips to lips. His breath tingled
her mouth, rushing faster than usual. His half-closed eyes blazed at her,
fascinated her with the flecks of gray and blue that merged to create the most
extraordinarily deep shade.

“Pick up your knife and fork,” he said and moved his arm from
around her.

The moment broke and a sense of loss swept over her skin
where his hands had been. She took a shaky breath and reached for her cutlery,
slid her plate back in front of her. Rich sauce oozed over a huge chunk of meat
on her plate. Her stomach gurgled, signaled hunger, but her body craved another
kind of fulfillment.

“Eat,” he commanded.

She sank her fork into the steak, the part of her that would
normally turn the utensil on him for being so bossy too distracted to put up a
fight. She sawed through the meat with her knife then brought a small piece to
her lips. The steak tasted of smoke, pepper and heat. She wasn’t sure if it was
extra juicy, if she was hungrier than she’d realized—or if her senses were
heightened, making the flavors more intense, but a hum rose in the back of her
throat. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste, and her eyelids drifted closed.
Sitting next to Connor, she felt as if the simple act of eating had turned into
a sensual experience, as if she was doing something dirty in public.

He picked up a fry and took a bite, watching her and not
touching his own cutlery. A heavy hand reached between her thighs. Her knife
slipped, making a grinding noise on the ceramic plate. That hand made its way
to the button at the center of her waist and flicked it open. Her hands froze,
her stomach muscles clenched.

“Keep eating. No one knows but me.”

She rubbed her steak-juice-coated lips together and cut
another slice of meat. Her zipper slid down and he pushed deep into her
panties, thick digits going straight for her clit. Her hips twitched, pleasure
streaked into her womb. His fingers moved between her shamefully wet folds. She
cut the piece of meat in half, not confident in her ability to chew, and placed
a bite on her tongue. He moved harder—directly—not teasing, not playing… He
meant business, sought instant results.