Dangerous Protector (Aegis Group Book 5) (4 page)

She arched her back, lifting her bottom. Her skin was so sensitized even the soft fabric under her cheek felt rough.

The sound of the wrapper and stretch of latex made her toes curl.

Soon…

Marco’s hand dug into her hair, tugging her head back. His stubble rasped against her cheek.

“My turn,” he whispered.

Oh…dear…

He shoved a pillow under her hips.

She swallowed and gripped the sofa with both hands, her heart pounding in her throat.

The first touch of his cock to her pussy was gentle. A brush of his skin to hers. He found her opening, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t think. She just—waited.

He pressed into her and she groaned, burying her face in the cushion. Marco’s grip in her hair tightened, pulling her head back, stretching her throat. He eased out, and then in, her arousal easing the penetration while he stretched her. She shifted, pushing back against him, seeking—something.

Marco moved with her, refusing to let her take more than he offered.

She groaned her frustration.

He smacked the curve of her ass, startling her more than hurting her.

“I can make it hurt.” He almost didn’t sound human.

“No, no.” She wasn’t into that.

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying.”

“How’s this?”

He put more power behind his thrust, stroking into her body. She moaned and kicked her leg.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, like that.”

He chuckled and did it again until she could feel the thud of his balls and the press of his pelvis against her. He rocked into her, her whole body seeming to pulse around him.

The hand in her hair twisted, and she closed her eyes.

“I’m going to feel you when you come,” he said.

Why did that sound like a threat?

She dug her nails in not a moment too soon.

Marco moved. He withdrew and thrust, working himself in and out of her body. He kept the one hand in her hair, the other at the small of her back as he fucked her. It wasn’t gentle or kind, it was rough and fast. She undulated against him, working her hips as best she could, but it was almost all him. He had her right where he needed her, and he wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted—how he wanted it.

Her nipples scraped across the upholstery.

Again, she cried out, incoherent words of pleasure. She lost herself in the feel of him, the way he invaded her body, every cell, pumping her full of desire.

She felt…alive to her very toes.

The orgasm took her by surprise, a crashing wave of bliss sweeping her up and taking her away. He pumped into her, prolonging the orgasm, until finally he shoved deep and froze, his fingers digging into her skin.

Fiona might have screamed. A second time. She wasn’t sure.

What she did know was that she wasn’t moving off the sofa for a very long time.

Marco said something to her. His hands stroked her back and hips. He smoothed her hair and even kissed her cheek, which made her smile. He wasn’t a chaste kisser. He was a taker. And she’d given him the green light.

Tonight was for her. For everything she’d denied herself.

Tomorrow…maybe she’d try to change some things. She’d never be free, but she didn’t have to be a prisoner to this life.

Fiona grabbed the sofa throw and pulled it over her. She listened to Marco’s steps, his trek into the bathroom, the toilet flushing and all the foreign sounds of someone else in her home. She’d never cared for sharing her space with strangers, but she would be sad to see Marco go. Or hear him. Right now she wasn’t opening her eyes for all the money in the world. Not even to watch him walk out her front door.

“Are you falling asleep already?” His shadow fell across her, blocking out some of the light seeping through her eyelids.

“Hm?” She lifted her chin.

Marco chuckled, but she didn’t have it in her to care. He’d fucked her right, and as far as she was concerned, he could do as he pleased.

The cushions dipped, and before she could puzzle out what the hell he was doing he lifted her into the air. She yelped and grasped his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Picking you up.”

“I can see that.”

“Bedroom?”

“What?” She blinked at him.

“Bed—room?” he said again slower.

“Why?”

“I’ve got ideas.”

“I-ideas?”

“What? You thought this was a one-and-done?” He grinned and her heart fluttered.

This must be how the prey felt when the predator was closing in.

“Through there.” She pointed at one of the closed doors across the room.

Marco carried her into the bedroom and didn’t bother with the lights. He set her down on the mattress and stood back, jerking his shirt off.

Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

4.

Marco slipped out of
bed and stood there in the dark like a fucking creeper.

This was not supposed to happen.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, but it didn’t ease the guilt stabbing his conscience. She was supposed to be a mark. A rung on the ladder. Well, he’d picked the wrong damn girl.

Fiona was…a drug.

He’d always known that in order to get the kind of information he needed, it meant getting close to someone at NueEnergy. But it was different now that the person had a name. Eyes. A mouth. God, her mouth. It was
just sex
. But it was damn good sex.

Fucking hell.

He couldn’t leave without completing his objective. He’d come too far.

Ghost had warned him about the consequences, that very likely someone—the person he targeted—would get blamed for what he was about to do. But Marco hadn’t listened.

And now that person had a name he could taste. He could still feel her pussy clenching around him.

“Hey, Fiona, I need to find my phone,” he said.

She sighed and turned away from him, already half-asleep.

He still didn’t know who she was,  or why, as far as the government was concerned, she hadn’t existed before a few years ago. According to their research, Fiona should be near thirty-five. If she was much older than thirty he’d eat his boots. What he did know was that she was a woman. A woman who’d been looked through and left empty. For a moment he’d pitied her, and then he’d realized his mistake. She’d picked him the same way he’d picked her, only…he wasn’t coming out of this unscathed. He was a dirty bastard for taking advantage of her like this, but when it came down to it, it was dozens of families versus her. And family would win over every time.

Marco snagged his boxer briefs from the floor and stepped into them, pulling them up as he tip-toed out of her room. He’d left his phone and wallet in the living room on purpose. For exactly this reason.

He eased the bedroom door shut and crossed to the coffee table.

Out of habit he checked the messages, but nothing urgent caught his eye.

Now, where was her work shit?

He crept through the condo, up to the second floor before he found her office in what he imagined was supposed to be the master suite. And yet she chose to sleep on the ground floor. Why?

More mysteries he wouldn’t get to the bottom of, because he couldn’t risk getting more involved than he already was.

Marco dragged his finger across the touchpad and the screen lit up. It wasn’t even locked. Shit. Part of him had hoped for super security, an impossible-to-crack password or something. It was too easy. All of it.

He pulled the mini-USB from the depths of his wallet. He held it between his fingers, staring at the little thing.

It had one purpose. One goal. And he had no doubt Ghost’s toy would work as promised. In the process, Fiona would pay the price for his actions.

He blew out a breath and plugged the USB into the laptop, then double-clicked the folder that popped up. The spyware would have to be installed, and then it could run invisibly in the background, infecting the entire company and funneling all that data to him.

Setting up the spyware took a matter of seconds. He hadn’t needed to fuck Fiona to do this. He could have done it another way, but he’d taken the path of least resistance. He’d have to live with the guilt.

Marco turned, searching for the waste basket. It was shoved under the desk, way in the back. He pulled it out and frowned at the framed photograph.

It was Fiona making a funny face at the camera next to a guy that had to have at least eight or ten years on her. He was serious, stern—boring.

This must be Scott.

Marco couldn’t see the appeal, but then again, he was a pussy addict, so what did he know?

Fiona’s sad eyes filled his mind. Before she’d known his name, she’d shared this much of herself with him. That she was lonely. And then they’d touched. Kissed. Fucked. He hadn’t had a lay this good in…a while.

Marco might be an ass, but he didn’t have to be the kind of ass that left in the middle of the night.

He pushed the waste basket back into place and shoved the USB into his wallet. There wasn’t enough trash there to disguise disposing of it anyway.

A few moments later he slipped back into Fiona’s bedroom. She was curled up on her side, and damn him if he didn’t want to wrap himself around her.

It was the guilt talking. Driving him to do this.

In a week or two, she’d curse his name, but for tonight he’d hold her.

Fiona set the kettle
on the stove, its gleaming surface reflecting her face back at her in a distorted manner.

Such a normal morning activity.

Making tea.

Having breakfast.

She glanced at the bedroom door and swallowed, parts of her body tingling.

Okay, it wasn’t every morning she woke up with a mountain of a man snoring in her bed. She’d practically had to wiggle out from under him before her bladder burst.

Now what?

Going back in there felt…creepy. There wasn’t the remotest chance she’d fall back asleep, not with her body remembering his touch, the way he’d…they’d…

Her words failed her, but her body remembered all too well what he’d done. How she’d felt.

Calling it “sex” wasn’t right. It wasn’t a primal enough word.

“Fucking” was more appropriate, but she shied away from that word, because it wasn’t right either.

She stared at the burner, watching the coil turn red, the heat rising. She put a hand to her throat. Was it the stove, or the memory of last night making things warm?

Last night…she’d felt alive. For the first time in ages, she remembered herself. Not this careful, frightened creature she’d become out of necessity. Was it the way Marco touched her? Saw her? Or was she finally tired of these shackles?

Ten years.

Ten long years, and no one had found her.

She kept tabs and got updates through the U.S. Marshalls from time to time when one of the core ring from back then was released, when they were back in trouble. But never any word on him.

n0v4bl4ck.

Fiona swallowed, her vision going a little unfocused.

Of all of the inner ring to let slip through the cracks, Nova was the worst. He’d been the leader. The one with all the strings and all the shit to sling. If she ever popped her head back into that world, he’d…

Her throat closed up.

She was pretty sure death would be a cake walk compared to the hell Nova would unleash on her. A good hacker could cut a person down to nothing and never once lay a hand on them. There were things worse than death out there, and she’d gotten a glimpse of that ten years ago. Now? Chances were Nova could do more. Worse. And that was enough to remind her why security was such a big thing. The U.S. Marshalls had felt Nova’s threat was real enough they’d uprooted her life, changed everything about her—four times—until she’d wound up here. In Denver.

Was her safety worth a little freedom? Could she live the next ten years boxed up like this?

The front door rattled. Several loud bangs startled her from her thoughts.

Who the—?

“Fiona, open up.” The voice was muffled, but she knew it.

Scott.

What the hell?

She tip toed to the door and activated the door cam.

There he was. In his designer, perfect glory.

What an asshole.

She pressed the speaker button. “Go away, Scott.”

“Open the door, Fiona.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I want my shit back.”

“I put everything in the box I gave you last week.”

“Open the door. We can talk about this.”

His irritation was new.

Usually, Scott was so put-together and poised that she hardly got any vibe from him at all. In fact, she was pretty sure the only reason they’d ever pretended their relationship was working was because she didn’t want to be alone. She wasn’t even sure why he’d picked her anymore. Her life now was one empty, bad relationship after the other. It wasn’t even that Scott had left her that hurt. It was that he’d called her boring. Once, back when she was a different person, no one would have put that word in the same sentence with her. Now…she was boring. Boring and safe.

“Fiona?” Scott’s voice brought her back to the moment.

The ear-splitting whistle of the tea kettle added yet more noise.

“Leave, Scott.”

She turned and strode into the kitchen.

Talk about timing. Any moment now, Marco would wake up and make his exit. Maybe she could convince him to wait for Scott to leave so there was less chance of an altercation. She’d rather avoid it altogether if possible.

“Fiona!” The front door held against his heavy-handed pounding.

She was only a little bit comforted by the knowledge she’d had the doors reinforced and installed kick plates. It would take a SWAT team several minutes to break through there if they ever had to, and that would take a door ram.

There was no way Scott could get through that door.

It didn’t stop her hands from shaking as she took the kettle off the stove.

“Fiona!”

Marco sat up, not
quite awake.

What was that sound? He didn’t like it.

He pushed the soft, gray comforter off and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Fiona.

Right.

He’d stayed, and he wasn’t sorry about that. The rest…his conscience would have to deal with it.

“Fiona!” someone bellowed, pounding on the front door.

Marco pushed to his feet and strode into the living room. Fiona stood in the kitchen, her hands over her face, shoulders hunched as if she expected someone to…

Hell. No. Fucking. Never.

“Who is that?” He pointed at the door, his feet slapping on the hardwood, his vision hazing red.

“No one.” Fiona’s eyes snapped open and she straightened, the momentary glimpse of the woman behind all the secrets gone.

“Who the hell is he?” Marco frowned at the door display. He’d seen it last night, but hadn’t paid attention to it. Now he could see the man on the other side clear as day. Who the hell needed a security system this fancy? Unless they were scared. Of who?

“Just—It’s Scott.” Fiona followed him to the entry, but she didn’t come within a dozen feet of the door. “Ignore him. He’ll go away.”

“Fiona, open the Goddamn door, you bitch!”

“Scott who called you boring, Scott?” The same prick in that picture she’d tossed. If Scott’s only crime was being a dick during a break-up, he’d be on par with every other guy. But the fear he’d seen on Fiona was another thing entirely. A guy who scared her that badly was scum.

“Please, he’ll go away.” Fiona’s hands were clasped together so tight her knuckles were white.

“Fiona!”

“Someone hit you. Was it him?” Marco pointed at the display.

“What?” Her eyes went wide. “No, Scott never hit me.”

“Open the fucking door!” The pounding was harder. Lower.

Marco glanced back at the screen.

Scott kicked the door.

And it didn’t so much as budge. It shook a bit, but not like a normal door.

Reinforced?

Seriously? Was she expecting an army to burst in here?

“Fuck this.” Marco twisted the locks and jerked the door open.

“No, Marco!”

He took one step over the threshold.

The man on the other side of the door froze, his eyes wide, right arm pulled back as though he were about to swing at the door again.

“Who the fuck are you?” Scott stared, wide eyed. It was probably the most expression the man’s face had seen in a decade.

“Get lost or I’m calling the damn cops.”

“You’re her new piece, huh?” Scott leaned to the side, trying to get a look around Marco. “You should know she’s a slut. She’ll fuck anything that moves.”

Marco grabbed the front of Scott’s button-down shirt before he could think better of it and hauled the asshole closer. Marco’s better sense screamed at him. Scott was a dick, but if Marco beat his ass, it would be Marco the cops wanted.

“Leave,” Marco said. Growled was more like it.

He let go of Scott and took a step back.

Distance.

He needed to
not
lose his cool. The whole gig had him amped up, and Scott was merely a lazy opportunity to blow off some steam.

Scott stumbled, his eyes wide.

His face morphed, twisting, eyes narrowing. He braced his weight on his right foot and swung. It only took a second, but this asshole had just made the wrong fucking move.

Marco couldn’t throw the first punch, but if this guy wanted to duke it out, he was more than willing to wipe the sidewalk with his ass.