For Her Protection: 1 (Personal Protection) (7 page)

Connor followed Charlize into the penthouse apartment. For
all the luxury, the building struck him as off. He’d remained at her back,
watchful as always but his skin crawled the same way it did when he entered a
prison block. Too much security, locked doors, security pads, cameras, not an
exit or window that looked easy to get out of.

“Dad?” Charlize set her keys down on a large hall table, her
heels echoing on the polished wood floor.

The scent of cigar smoke clung to the walls and furniture.
She ran her fingertips over the back of an antique velvet couch as they stepped
into an expansive sitting room.

A man sat in a green grandfather armchair, ankle resting on
one knee, dressed in a three-piece-suit as if he was at some fancy-ass country
club. He glanced up from his paper.

“Cherry, love, I thought you weren’t coming. What time do
you call this?”

He spoke gruffly but he put his arm out and Charlize moved
to his side and planted her full lips on his cheek.

“Sorry, I was held up.”

The man’s gaze landed on Conner and he nodded. Charlize
stood next to her father, whose graying, dark hair looked as if it’d once been
the same raven as hers was.

“Dad, this is my…” She wrung the strap of her bag with one
hand and glanced between the two men. “My boyfriend, Connor.” She released the
strap and looked at him, a slight line between her brows. “Conner, this is my
father, William Halifax.”

Connor stepped forward and extended his hand. “It’s an
honor, sir.”

William clasped his hand, putting enough strength behind his
grasp to let Connor know the man may be older but not frail.

“At least this one has manners.” William blinked and turned
to Charlize. “I thought you were engaged to that schmuck, Simon?”

Engaged
?

The word punched him in the chest, spread rage through his
rib cage. He forced the anger down. So she’d had a life… He’d had one too. But
she’d been engaged—recently by the sound of it.

Fuck it, he hated the idea of someone else’s hands on her.
From now on there’d only be his.

Charlize went rigid then red. She squeezed her father’s
shoulder. “No, Dad, I told you months ago we broke up.”

William blinked again, gaze hazy. “Did you?” He shook his
head. “Well I’m glad to hear it. I always said that boy was too much of a sissy
for you. He’d never keep you in line.”

“Dad, honestly…” Charlize gave her father a pleading glare.

“This one looks as if he could handle you though. What you
do, boy? You’ve got a military look about you.”

Connor’s attention shifted between the two. Was this their
banter? Did her father enjoy teasing her or was he oblivious to the
embarrassment stretching across his daughter’s face? Connor shook his head and
folded himself into a two-seater. “No…former detective. In security now.”

“Connor, why don’t you help me put on some tea?”

William waved to her. “Leave the men be, Charlize.”

Connor watched her—she didn’t react as she normally would,
just let things slide and walked into the other room.

“So, there much money in security these days?”

Connor didn’t blink at the question. He’d been a cop long
enough to know when someone was trying to throw him off.

“There is when you own the company.”

William tossed his paper onto the table. “Got to know you
can take care of my girl.”

“If any woman can take care of herself financially, it’s
Charlize.”

Deep furrows fanned around William’s amber eyes. “A woman
shouldn’t have to. The minute she starts wanting kids it’s private education
and grand ambitions down the drain.”

A surge of defensiveness rose in his gut but he held it at
bay. Things were starting to make sense. “We’re not exactly at the
child-planning stage but if the time came, I’m sure Charlize could find a
balance—she’s driven.”

“A little too driven perhaps.”

Charlize strode back into the room, a hand clenched at her
waist. “Dad, where’s the milk, teabags? Hasn’t Lynette done your shopping?”

William appeared to grow three inches. “I damn well sacked
her.”

“Why this time?” Charlize’s chest rose.

“She messed with my stuff.”

“Lynette was the best caregiver we’ve had in three years.
How was she messing with your stuff?”

“My damn socks. She was sneaking in and taking all my left
socks.” William’s eyes grew round, all the whites visible around his irises.

Connor shifted. He knew that look. Seen it time after time
as a cop—the look of someone whose mind and emotions operated on another plane,
someone who experienced their own reality.

Charlize walked to her father and knelt. “Daddy, why would
anyone do that? I don’t think socks have a right and a left.”

“Of course they do. She was trying to get to me, trying to
make me think I’m crazy. She’d move my spectacles around the house, drink half
my tea when I wasn’t looking—she even changed the programming on the damn TV so
I’d never get to see my shows.”

Charlize patted his knee. “That wouldn’t be possible. Shows
change, things change. We can’t control a television station’s programming. You
need her, we need her.”

“I do not need her. I have a daughter. You should be here,
Charlize. You should be here buying the damn tea and milk.” William slapped the
arm of the chair, his face brightening.

Charlize uncurled from her crouch. “You know I work. I come
as much as I can. I visit four times a week but I can’t be your maid. Not when
we pay a fortune for you to stay in the most exclusive assisted-living
apartment in Seattle.”

“You don’t need to damn work. I never asked you to take
over.” William stood, pointed his finger at Charlize.

She backed up a step, blinking against the sheen glistening
across her eyes.

“Didn’t I provide adequately for you?” he spat.

Connor rose silently behind William. Something was happening
to Charlize. Her strength looked as if it was slipping, resignation sliding
into its place. He’d never hated anything so much as seeing his she-cat get
knocked down.

“It’s not about that,” she said, her hand curled at her
belly. A fat tear slid down her cheek.

Connor stepped closer, wanting to reach out and hold her but
knowing better. William’s gaze flicked to him.

The older man inched back into his chair. “Stop crying,
Cherry. If you really want a shot at running what I left you, you’re going to
have to harden up, stop being so damn soft.”

Charlize brushed the tear away with one finger and
swallowed. Connor could almost see her shields slamming back into place.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I only seem to cry when
I visit you.”

The intensity fell from William’s expression but it was too
late. Charlize walked back to the table where she’d placed her keys.

“I’m going to call management in the morning and see if
Lynette will come back. If not, you’re going to have to learn to live without
fresh milk or learn to order online.” She gave her father a long stare before
turning to the door.

Connor nodded to William. “Mr. Halifax,” he said and strode
after Charlize.

He caught up with her at the elevator and drew her against
him. “He doesn’t—”

“I really don’t need a pep-talk right now.”

The elevator chimed and Charlize brushed his hand aside and
stepped into the empty car. He ran his gaze over her before he joined her. She
still wore her hands-off regalia but now stray wisps of hair escaped her bun,
softening her. It didn’t matter anymore, what she wore or how she looked, he
knew his ice-queen had a sweet, molten core.

And he had only begun to taste it.

* * * * *

Sound burst through her bedroom, shaking her out of inky-black
nightmares filled with groping hands and the taste of someone else’s blood.
Charlize jerked upright. Another bang shook the room and she rolled out of bed,
knocking her side table. A glass lamp fell and shattered on the floor. She
froze. Her heart pummeled the inside of her chest, fast and painful.

The door slammed inward and crashed against the wall. A
large figure filled the doorway, streaking terror into her limbs. She screamed
and covered her face. Her chest clenched—she couldn’t catch her breath. The
room pitched.

“Charlize, are you okay?”

The words barely penetrated her ringing ears. She couldn’t
breathe, her chest squeezed tighter.

“Shit. There’s glass everywhere.”

Silence then a sound, and hands were on her just in time to
stop her from hitting the ground. She clutched her hands to her chest but
couldn’t speak—couldn’t draw breath. A rumble rippled over the room, this time
softer. She had no choice but to let herself sink into cradling arms.

“It’s just a tiny earthquake, baby. We’re okay, you’re okay.
It’s over, just try to breathe.” His words whispered against her ear.

He scooped her up, glass crunched but he didn’t make a
sound, just laid her on her mattress and sank down beside her. He touched her,
smoothed long, loose hair out of her face, ran fingers down her spine, drew her
out of her own head and back up to reality.

The squeezing in her chest became a more manageable
pressure. She opened her eyes to look at him and realized something she hadn’t
noticed before. Connor had faint but gorgeous laugh lines around his eyes. Now
they were furrowed but not with laughter. She struggled to absorb the
expression on his face, the look of someone who cared.

Part of her wanted to freeze the image in time, hold on to
and cherish it. She touched his face, trailed her fingers over his rough
cheeks, stroked his divine lips. His mouth opened and he nipped the tip of her
finger. She gasped and then his mouth was on hers, his tongue stroking inside
her lips. She grabbed his skull, drawing him closer. The nearness wasn’t
enough; she wanted him to crush her, make her feel everything. He ran his hands
over her body, over her nightgown, so thin his touch burned skin.

He coaxed her to open her mouth wider, to give him full
access and showed her he knew how to use his tongue, made her long to really
have him use it on her. Her chest squeezed but this time the ache was sweet. He
rolled on top of her, drawing her knees around his waist and giving her a
glimpse of the restrained hunger lying under his sweet kiss. She fidgeted,
impatient, wanting the harder bite of his desire.

She pushed his shoulders, used enough strength to break the
kiss. He gazed at her, hesitation clear behind his eyes. She fought the urge to
bite him. Would serve him right for looking at her as if she were some delicate
flower. The appeal of polite sex and prissy fucking disintegrated at about the
same time Conner showed her exactly what else there was on offer. She wanted
what she’d tasted in her office. The promise of what she knew only Connor could
give her. But when he looked at her like this, as if he feared he might crush
her in his hands—she felt as if she were made of glass.

Words jammed in her throat. How could she tell him what she
didn’t understand? “Fuck me now, Connor. Fuck me like my pussy’s yours.”

His eyes flashed, his jaw clenched and his body turned to
steel above her. Her core responded, flooding with liquid heat.

He grasped her thighs and jerked her hips higher then
grabbed her panties at the sides and tugged. Her breath hitched but her pussy
throbbed in anticipation. He moved the scrap of material between her legs to
the side.

Her hips arched. Yes this was it, this was the Connor she
needed. The Connor who would shake her out and let her come apart.

The faint tinkle of music cut through the room. Connor
paused. The bad-boys ringtone stripped the focus from his features.

Not
going
to
happen
. She needed
him now and nothing was going to distract him. Charlize raised her hand and
slammed her palm into the side of his cheek. His head didn’t turn but his eyes
shut briefly. When they opened she questioned her impulsiveness.

His eyes radiated pure lust laced with anger. In an
explosion of movement he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. His
erection grazed her pussy through his track pants. The ringtone grew louder and
he panted above her, his temples ticking.

Connor squeezed her wrists. “You stay right here and get
ready. You’re about to be in serious trouble.” He released her wrists, drew his
phone out of his back pocket and stared at the screen. “This is important but I
won’t be long.”

He climbed out of her bed and pressed the phone to his ear,
strolling to the door. The door shut behind him and all she could do was stare
a hole through it.

What the fuck just happened
? He’d left her writhing
in the center of her bed. What happened to “the next time you hit me I’ll have
my cock buried in you before you can finish the request”? Connor was full of
shit and what the hell was more important than burying his cock in her anyway?

She sat up and noticed he’d laid the throw from the end of
her bed across the floor to cover the broken glass. Her skin heated. Shit, she’d
gone just about hysterical over a minor earthquake. She ran her fingers over
her face. Her chest still ached with tightness, her head still buzzed. An icy
sensation crept through her.

She’d felt this sneaking up on her over the last months, the
panicky feeling that continued to build no matter how deep she buried it. She
rolled over and opened her side table drawer and pulled out a small bottle. The
label said one but she took two. No freaking way she’d end up like her father.

No way she’d let herself break.

She swallowed the pills out of her palm. They grazed their
way down her throat but she couldn’t be bothered to go get water. Charlize lay
back against her pillows and shut her eyes.

Connor paced the guest bathroom, giving focus to his
conversation. His raging cock would have to wait a goddamn moment before
exploding.