For His Protection (8 page)

“Baby, I know you get off on control but let’s get one thing
clear,” he said, dropping her wrists, no longer holding her. Her knees, her
touch, leveraged her against him.

“I’m going to let you do your job but I don’t have to like
it.”

His muscles rippled against her. Her lungs sucked in air at
twice the pace of his. She’d always known it—the strength he possessed. Greater
than her own. But she’d always felt so powerful around him because he’d never
used that strength on her. Her knees pressed at the base of his ribs.

She still had control. She could push him off.

She could shove him away with her legs, and escape. Maybe
she wouldn’t beat him in a fight but she could disable him for long enough to…
He stared down at her and she stared back into the unavoidable heat of his
eyes.

If she wanted to…

“I don’t like having you in front of me.” His gaze traveled
to her lips. “I want to be the one standing in front of you.” He leaned in and
her knees pushed against her breasts. “It’s not fair but that’s how it is.” He
stared at her mouth. “Because I don’t give a fuck about your job, Brooke. I
don’t care how strong and capable and ballsy you are. I only care about you.”

Her blood rushed in her ears. His expression softened. She
wet her lips.

The elevator dinged.

Ty stepped back, holding her waist as she brought her heels
back to the ground. She adjusted her dress and the door opened. Ty walked out.
She stared at his retreating back. The elevator closed and Brooke stared at the
control panel, not knowing which way to go.

There were only two options. Get off the ride—or go back
down.

“Why do I feel as if I might spontaneously catch fire at any
moment?” Ty didn’t look up from the papers on his desk.

Good. Then the glaring worked. Brooke thrummed her fingers
on the tabletop without taking her gaze off him. Normally she didn’t stare
fiery holes through her clients while she watched them. Normally she gave them
space. Blended in and focused more on the surroundings than on the person. But
nothing about this situation was normal.

After everything downstairs settled and she’d appropriately
blasted the security team, called Connor and arranged for extra—more
capable—staff from Crowe, she’d sat down at the conference table and stared at Ty
for a solid hour.

Because she knew what she had to do.

Stay
.

Freaking stay and protect him. They’d had a close call today—a
warning. The group of protesters had come relatively peacefully to hand in a
petition against the closing of the community center, supported by
three-thousand signatures. But things could turn so swiftly as today proved.
And when you’re employing security people who don’t know better than to not lay
hands on a person, a person who is a recovering drug addict whose support
services are about to be bulldozed, then you might as well start rolling in
ants’ nests because you’re going to get hurt.

Ty would get hurt
.

Even big strong Ty could be caught off guard. Because no one
is impenetrable.
No one
. Her stomach clenched. She dragged her fingers
across the glass.

Ty’s head rose. His gaze flicked to her fingers on the
table. “Hey, it’s lunch time. I’ll be done in a minute. We can take a break
from the office.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she said and flashed a tight smile.

He sighed and turned back to his desk, flipping over a
paper.

Brooke reached into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out
a jumbo high-protein bar and tore off the wrapper.

Ty glanced up again, watching her sink her teeth into the
brown, may-as-well-be-made-of-cardboard-paste bar.

“I was going to buy you a decent lunch, you know.”

“Lunch perks are not in my contract,” she said, swallowing.
“We bodyguards need to be able to survive on the job without stopping for cozy
little lunch dates.”

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m going to get something that
doesn’t look as if it’s made of tree bark.” He turned over the last page in his
pile, scrawled something at the bottom then tucked everything back into a
yellow folder and stood.

He left his jacket hanging on the back of the chair and held
his hand toward the door. Brooke stood, picking up the wrapper and dropping it
into the trash can on the way out. She finished the remaining protein bar in
the elevator.

Ty watched the last piece disappear between her lips. “That
doesn’t even smell like food.”

“If you can smell it, you must be standing too close,” she
said and took a step back, giving him her I-can-arch-one-brow smirk.

They left the building through the main entrance and Ty led
them around the block to a street of cafes.

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into something made of food?”

Brooke scanned the streets. “No, I’m good.”

Ty snorted and stopped in front of an ice-creamery with a red-and-white-striped
awning. “Then I guess I’ll just have a treat.”

She followed him inside.

Ty rested his elbow against the glass display cabinet. “Are
you sure I can’t tempt you?”

It was Brooke’s turn to snort but heat rose in her cheeks.
Tempt her? She didn’t tempt.
Much…
She glanced at the assortment of
colors in the window, gaze settling for a moment on the vibrant strawberry. “No
thanks. I don’t put anything in my body that isn’t good for me.”

Ty straightened and his lips stretched into a grin.

“Don’t even,” Brooke said and waved her hand at him then
strolled out of the shop to lean against the exterior wall and wait.

Ty emerged with a cone piled high with gooey pink ice cream.
She breathed in the soft strawberry scent as he stepped beside her. Her tongue
moistened but she looked away. Far too sweet for her taste. Ty strolled across
the street toward the park.

“Don’t you need to get back to work or something?” Brooke
trailed after him.

He didn’t pause, just strode down a pathway between trees.
“First I’m going to
enjoy
my lunch in the shade.”

“You call that lunch?” she whispered.

Ty stopped and sat under a large tree with long twisted
branches. “Better than that gnarly protein bar you called lunch.”

She put a hand to her waist. “Hey, at least that gnarly
protein bar builds muscle.”

“Well this builds my daily satisfaction,” he said and sucked
a mouthful off the top of the ice cream.

“Sorry, Oprah.” Brooke folded herself cross-legged on a
patch of shaded grass next to him.

He raised the ice cream and took a lick from the side of the
cone all the way up to the top. Brooke’s gaze fixed on the long pink tongue
curling over the frozen dairy. He licked again and her back twitched.
Obscene
.
A man with a tongue like that should keep it in his head. The offending
appendage flicked out again, scooping melting ice cream between his lips. She
suddenly had far too much excess saliva.

He held the cone toward her. “You want some?”

“No.”

That devilish look crept over his face, turning him from CEO
to boyish rogue with as little as a subtle squint of the eye. “You sure? You
were watching kind of intently…”

She gave him a smile of her own, one she poured all her
sentiments into. “I was just thinking it’s a good thing there’s no kids or old
people around to witness ice cream getting violated by that ridiculous porno
tongue.”

“Porno tongue?”

He laughed softly, leaning closer, those brown eyes of his
shining down on her, making her feel as though the sun had just blasted its way
through the canopy.

“You have no idea,” he said. “If you want to see porno
tongue, all you’ve got to do it say so.”

The ice cream hovered an inch from her nose, tantalizing her
with its syrupy sweetness. His tongue stretched out, long and wide and deep
pink. Heat exploded in her center. He’d definitely missed his calling as a
heavy-metal rock star. That tongue smoothed over the ice cream, extending to a
length that defied imagination and taking out half the remaining ice cream in
one giant scoop. She could almost feel that tongue against her skin. It
wouldn’t take much to get him to lean forward, put it on her. Something told
her this man could do things with his mouth that would make her head spin. He
swallowed and melted ice cream coated his lips. She stared at his mouth,
waiting for that moment when his tongue would dart back out. Instead he raised
his napkin and swiped it across his face.

“You’re such a liar, Brooke. You do want some, don’t you?”

She couldn’t pull her attention from his lips, just watched
them speak but didn’t comprehend what nonsense they said. Cold, wet sweetness
jammed against her lips—dripped down her chin—went up her nose. Brooke fell
back onto her palms, for a moment frozen by the strawberry goo melting into her
mouth. She brought her fingers to her face then pulled them away and stared at
the ice cream coating them.

Ty smothered a chuckle, taking another long erotic lick and
reducing the ice cream down to the cone. Shock fell away and rage snapped up to
take its place. He’d smooshed ice cream on her—and he found it freaking funny.

I’ll show you funny.

Brooke lunged, knocked Ty onto the grass then grabbed the
wrist holding the cone in both her hands. She hovered over him, pushing against
his forearm, and the ice cream moved toward his face.

“Nom nom, Ty.”

He held his arm still but lifted his chin and laughed a
booming laugh that vibrated its way into her chest.

A husky laugh bubbled in her throat. “I think you want some.
You do want some, don’t you?”

She straddled him, throwing her weight into the battle. He
was stronger, resisted her without any visible effort. His gaze trained on her
ice cream coated smile and his expression shifted, settling into something
warmer. He moved his hand slowly, as if she were not laying her full body
against his arm, and brought the cone to his mouth then crunched through it in
two oversized bites.

Ty chewed, raising his brows at her. She shook her head. More
laughter escaped and she fell against him. His warmth soaked into her abdomen.

He swallowed. “You have some on you.” He reached for her
face and swiped his thumb over her chin.

Brooke turned her cheek toward the touch and clamped her
teeth over his thumb.

Ty froze.

She squeezed her teeth a little, enough that he’d feel the
pressure—enough to give him warning. His nostrils flared but he remained still
like a good boy. She closed her lips over her teeth and sucked—hard. Wrapped
her tongue around his flesh and pulled it fully into her mouth. Sweetness,
strawberry and a hint of saltiness she knew was pure Ty coated her taste buds.

Her senses homed in on his scent, the smell of him under the
strawberry, the hardness of him pressed against her. A wave of pleasure rolled
upward from her core, tightening her nipples and daring her to grind against
him. Brooke drew back and his thumb dragged across her tongue, tugged between
her lips. Her pulse beat like a tribal drum, throbbing through her veins. She
wanted to cover him like honey, pour over him and let him consume her. She slid
her hands up his chest, absorbing the contours of his muscles with her palms.

Her gaze flicked over his mouth, shiny and pink and taunting
her. She leaned down and snatched his bottom lip with her teeth. Ty gave a low
growl but dropped his head back, letting her do as she pleased. She sucked,
fisting her hand in his hair and pulling his head back farther, then took his
whole mouth.

She rubbed herself into him, opening her lips over his as
though she could suck him in. Ty kissed her back, invading her with his tongue,
his scent, his taste, his desire. He tasted like joy—sweet, happy and
irresistible—she devoured the feeling, letting it burst its way through her.
Her mind retracted. Her body took over. Her hips moved, ground against him with
building need. She laid her free hand on his cheek.
Rough, hard, male
.
She let it graze her palm but tightened her grip on his hair.

Ty groaned and grabbed her hips, pulling her tighter to him.
Her pussy skimmed against the ridge in his pants and that hypersensitive place
panged with pleasure. Control snapped and she bucked against him, rocking herself
into his hardness. Her nipples dragged against his chest through their clothes,
her clitoris butted urgently against his erection, satisfaction just out of
grasp. Ty gave a low growl against her lips and flipped them in one movement,
wedging his body between her thighs.

Pain and cold stabbed through her middle as though she’d
been staked through the belly. Her arm shot out, her hand closed over his
throat to shove him back. Ty froze, going completely rigid above her. His eyes
however continued to blaze at her. Her heart squeezed, her breath turned dead
in her lungs with crawling shame.

“That’s enough,” she said, trying to affect a normal,
non-lunatic voice and releasing his throat. “Look where we are.”

He didn’t look away, didn’t look around at the reminder that
they were in the middle of a public park. He just looked at her in a way that
gave her no doubt whatsoever that Tyler Black would take her anywhere and
anyway he could get her.

“We are finishing this tonight, Brooke. You understand that,
don’t you?”

She stared at him and everything inside her contracted
painfully. Part of her screamed
yes
. Part of her knew there was no other
choice—this was coming. But it could never—would never—be what he expected. She
pushed his arm aside and rolled out from under him, giving him her back.

Denial hovered on her lips and it hurt. Hurt because she
hadn’t wanted to stop. Hadn’t wanted to be afraid. Hadn’t retreated into fear
by choice as though it were a blanket. She’d broken free from a cage only to
find herself still shackled at the ankle. For the first time she wanted to feel
this. Wanted to know what passion tasted like. Denial no longer offered refuge.
It smothered her, trapped her and held her prisoner.

But she had a history of escaping.

“I do understand. I’m just not sure you know what that means
yet.”