Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4 (28 page)

Once he was properly sheathed, she clamped her arms on his shoulders and straddled him. His shoulders and arm muscles tightened and his breath caught as she impaled herself on his shaft.

Now she had him where she wanted. “Question for you, big boy. Sam said there was no one allowed in the guest house until after midnight but he was wrong, right? He meant only invited guests were allowed, right?”

His expression froze into his standard bland mask. She tapped his lips with her index finger. “Nuh-uh. No deflecting on this one. Were there or were there not people watching us?”

“No. There was no one else there but us.”

“Why did you lie about it?”

“Consider it a misdirection.” He pulled her down on top of him and kissed the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “I prefer to keep certain things—like our lovemaking—private. Since you like the idea of people watching us I figured that you’d be as excited if you believed people were watching us. So I asked Jocelyne to help me create the illusion.”

“Huh.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He arched his hips, driving his shaft deeper inside her as if to encourage her to drop the subject.

“Yeah, but…” She wiggled on top of him trying to decide how she felt about his deception.

His eyes closed as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “Sandy, you enjoyed it.”

“Okay, okay, I admit, I was turned on thinking people were watching us.” Bracing herself on his shoulders, she ground her hips against his. Her already-sensitive tissues stretched around his shaft, welcoming the intrusion. Though he hadn’t said as much, she was certain he’d never told anyone else about his father or what he’d done. That type of trust overwhelmed her. She needed to show him he could continue to trust her, that she trusted him. Except she didn’t know exactly how to show it other than by such intimacy. Maybe one day she’d find the words, but not today. “God, I love how you feel inside me.”

She paused when she realized what she’d said. She more than loved how he felt inside her. She loved falling asleep in his bed and waking to him beside her. She loved curling up on the couch and watching movies with him, even if he did prefer documentaries over her beloved action movies. She even loved how they’d fought the day before, how he’d listened to her, opened up to her.

She loved him. Shit. No. This couldn’t be happening. She was happy being single. No ties. No responsibilities to anyone else but herself.

Stop over thinking this.
Neither of them had said the L-word yet. Who knew how he felt, but guys didn’t fall in love as easily as women, right? So this was containable. This was sex. That’s all it was. They were just scratching each other’s itches.

At that moment his breath hitched and he held her still. “Oh, God, Sandy. You feel so fucking good.”

Right. Fucking, that’s all this was. Not lovemaking, just sex. As his fingers dug into her hips, she gripped his shoulders and withdrew until only the head of his cock was inside her, then dropped. She set a fast pace, grinding her hips against his, driving them both to the edge until her whole body shook with the ferocity of her climax. Before she’d finished she was flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Troy lifted her hips and drove into her, the new angle providing a delicious friction against both her clit and her inner tissues. She reached between them and found her clit, flicking it until pleasure flooded her once more. He thrust harder, his face contorted. When his climax hit, his body vibrating while his cock pulsed deep inside her, she could have sworn she’d heard him say, “I love you.”

Oh shit. He’d said it. Guys never said
I love you
first. Okay, so she’d heard it before, but look where that had led her. To a damned proposal and an expectation she’d become her mother’s clone and pop out babies while riding a damned tractor or milking the cows.

She
so
wasn’t ready for this.

As soon as his body relaxed, she lifted herself off him and headed straight for the bathroom. “I’ve got to run. I’m really running late now.”

“You can be late. We need to talk,” he raised his voice as she closed the door.

Oh shit. She glanced at the shower thinking how she really needed to have one but if she did, he’d probably join her, which would lead to another session of sex. Which she was totally up for, but she didn’t want to encourage him. Who knows, if she gave in, he might get down on one knee and ask her to marry him. Her reprieve lasted only until she stepped out of the bathroom. His back was to her as he stepped into a pair of track pants affording her a lovely view of his ass. And a fine ass it was.

“There you are.” His whole face softened when he noticed her ogling him. “Come over here and let’s talk.”

“Can’t we do this tonight?”
Please don’t get all mushy and expect me to say I love you.
Which she did, but that would take things to a level she wasn’t prepared to go. Not yet. She bent to gather the clothes she’d ditched on the floor during the night. “I need to get dressed and get out of here.”

“Sandy, all I want to talk about is what you failed to tell me was going on while I was away?”

What she’d failed to tell him? “Oh, you mean about Mitch being the hacker? I was so relieved to hear you were okay yesterday, it went straight out of my head.”

Shoot, she probably shouldn’t have admitted she was worried about him. He’d read things into it. Things that were true, but she wasn’t ready to say those three little words yet. Not for a long while yet. But at least he wasn’t getting mushy and going down on one knee.

She laid out the pile of clothes and took stock. Dress slacks. In need of an iron. Crap. Ah well, they’d have to do. Blouse. Equally wrinkled. Double crap. Underwear. Check. Pantyhose. Check. She was missing something but she couldn’t think of anything other than getting away.

Troy dangled her bra by one finger. “Looking for this?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She snatched it from him and wrestled it on. “So anyway, I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I simply didn’t remember until we’d hung up. They’ve come up with a plan to try to catch him though.”

“So Scott said, but I’m not talking about that douchebag.”

He wasn’t? “You aren’t?”

“No. I’m talking about all this.” He waved his hand over the bed. “The walls, the bedding, all the little touch-ups you’ve done around here?”

“Oh, that.” And here she’d hoped he’d like it. She finished dressing as she considered whether she should be upset that he didn’t like what she’d done to his place. “All right. I’ll take the quilt back, and you can take down the pictures. You can always paint it some other color. Nothing’s permanent.”

“I don’t want you to take anything back. I like it. It feels warm in here now. Like your place.” He reached out and caught her wrist, tugged her onto his lap. Curling his fingers beneath her chin, he stroked her jaw. “As for nothing being permanent. How about we change that?”

Triple crap. He was about to propose.

“How about you move in with me?” He continued, unaware of the double backflips her stomach was doing. “Or if you’d like we could move back to my flat in London and set that up as international headquarters. It’s only a hop, skip and a jump to anywhere in Europe. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Okay. Living together wasn’t a proposal. She could deal with that. London, however, meant quitting her job.
That
was permanent. Too permanent. Holy shit, what part of “not wanting to settle down” had he not understood?

He frowned. “Or not.”

She wiggled out of his hold and speed-walked to the front hall. Where the hell had she left her purse? “Look, I have a ton of things I need to do.”

Her purse turned out to be on the floor beside the couch. She snagged it and then dodged Troy, who had followed her out and grabbed her coat from the closet. “I have to call Jazz and see how she’s doing. And I promised to pick up some fabric for Mom at this quilt shop she found last time she was in D.C.”

“Sandy, wait. Please.”

“Yeah, so…um…yeah. I’ll see you later, all right?”

She must have set a speed record racing down the hallway and out to her car. Ignoring her cellphone as it rang, she stabbed her keys into the ignition and started the engine. She should never have looked back when she got into the elevator. The sight of Troy standing there, watching her, would haunt her forever.

What the hell had happened this morning? What was he thinking asking her to move in like that? Troy yanked his tie tight and stared at himself in the mirror.
Fuckin’ idiot. You knew she was scared of long-term relationships and what do you do? Tell her you love her and then invite her to move in with you.

“Face it, mate, you lose your brains after sex,” he told his reflection, who nodded and agreed with him.

So he hadn’t intended to say the L-word quite yet, but fuck it all, it had hurt to see that damned deer-in-the-headlights expression creep over her face. Her race out of his condo could have set an Olympic sprinter’s time, and if she continued that speed while driving, she’d qualify for the next pole position at Indianapolis.

When his phone rang, he grabbed it “Sandy?”

After a pause, Sam replied, “Nope. Sorry.”

Shit bloody fuck.
Are you about to hand my ass to me on a pike? Because Sandy beat you to it.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “What’s up?”

“I figured you’d want in on the op to catch the hacker, considering it involves Sandy.” Irritation filled Sam’s voice. “If you do, meet me at the safe house in McLean.” Sam cut the connection before he could reply that he was already out the door.

A sense of foreboding plagued him as he jammed his car back into first gear within the first mile after merging into traffic on the Beltway. One of these days he was going to buy himself a fucking tank and be damned with the bumper-to-bumper traffic. He’d plow his way across whatever road, whatever field stood in his path. If anyone tried to get in his way, he’d use the tank’s fucking big gun.

A full fucking seventy minutes later, he parked his car half on the curb on the side street in front of the house, barely managing not to hit Sam’s brand-new Range Rover. Wouldn’t that have been the cherry to top off the fuckin’ morning?

The door opened as he approached and Sam scowled out at him. “Took your time, McPherson. We expected you a half hour ago.”

“Pileup on the Beltway.” He stalked into the house, resisting the urge to flip Sam off as he passed.

Inside he found Andy and Scott, along with Kris Campbell—he needed to stop thinking of the kid as a newbie. He’d worked for Hauberk for nearly two years according to Scott, not to mention spending two full hitches in Afghanistan.

Beside one of their female operatives—what was her name again? Vanessa? Deidre? Damned if he could remember—Jazz sat at the end of the couch, her arms hugging her knees to her chest, her jaw set and her eyes hard. He recognized the look. Grief. Anger. A sense of betrayal. All wrapped into one potentially explosive package.

As he approached he noticed the mascara smudged beneath her eyes, the whites that were more reddened. “Hey, Jazz. How you doing? You hanging in there?”

“They won’t let me cut off his nuts when they catch him.”

The female operative—Holly! That was it—nudged Jazz with a smile. “He probably won’t have any left by the time we get done with him, hon.”

An hour, three cups of coffee, and a big-assed headache later, Troy headed for the door only to be stopped by Sam.

“Hold up a minute. You and I need to have a talk.”

Right here in front of everyone? Fuck it all. “If it’s about me and Sandy, you can save your breath. I screwed it up this morning. I doubt she’ll want to see me again.”

Sam hissed in a breath. “What d’you do?”

“I asked her to move in with me. I may have also said I love her.” He lowered his voice and rushed the last two words, hoping Sam wouldn’t understand them and no one else would hear.

From Sam’s bellowed laugh, no such luck. “Man, that is so righteous.” He slapped his hand on Troy’s back, pitching him forward a half step. “Welcome to the club, son.”

“What are you talking about? You got your girl, remember? You and Rosie are getting married next month.”

“Yeah, but not until I’d done a shitload of groveling. Man, I had to buy a new pair of pants ’cause I wore holes in the knees chasin’ after Rosie.”

“Point is you won her. I don’t think I can with Sandy. She’s not into commitment. You should have seen her this morning.” He slumped against the wall and shook his head. “You’d think I’d told her a bomb was about to go off in the building. She couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“She’s afraid,” Jazz said. “She thinks marriage means staying home and popping out babies. Not having a life.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t know how to get through to her that I don’t need kids or for her to give up her job or anything.” Shit, was he really standing here talking marriage and crap? Yeah. He guessed he was. “I told her we didn’t have to stay in D.C., that if she wanted I could work out of London and we could move there.”

“Yeah, but she’s heard all that before. From Glen. Turned out he liked the idea of her working until they had kids, but he wanted kids right away.”