Shiloh Walker: The Protected

Once she’d eased the zipper down, he nudged her away and pulled a rubber from his pocket. Yeah, he’d come here for this, no denying that. Tossing it onto the bed, he shoved his jeans down, kicking them and his shoes off before rolling onto his knees and kneeling above Vaughnne. Her hair spread out around her, one thick lock curving around her breast. The dark circle of her aureole peaked through. She had a smile on her face. A sexy, female little smile . . . one that said she knew what he wanted, one that said she wanted the same thing, and it only made the hunger inside him burn that much brighter.

It was a picture he’d keep with him, he thought. Much better than that last one that had haunted him ever since she’d walked away in Mexico.

He tore the condom open and his hands actually shook as he unrolled it down over his length, fumbling more with the damn thing than he’d done since he was a teenager. And all the while, she watched, the smile slowly fading from her face until there was nothing on her face but need. He came down over her. “Hold on to me, mi vida . Hold on.”

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he settled between her thighs, shuddering at the heat waiting for him. Warm and welcoming . . . so soft.

He reached between them to guide himself home, groaning at the feel of her, shuddering as she yielded to him, the tight, clutching fist of her pussy closing around him as he slowly sank inside.

He sought out her mouth and the pleasure was like glory as she sank her teeth into his lower lip, as she rocked up against him, her hands, her body, urging him on. He sought out her wrists, guiding them over her head and pinning her in place.

“Slow down.” If all they had was tonight, then he’d make it last.

At least, he’d try.

Vaughnne twisted beneath him, clenching down around him so that all those tiny little muscles inside gripped him, stroked him. He shuddered and withdrew. “ Carajo . . . stop it, Vaughnne,” he rasped against her mouth.

Her response was to catch his lower lip between her teeth again. When she bit him, he swore and surged deep inside her.

She cried out, the sound of it echoing through him. Her hands strained against his hold and she twisted, arching closer, harder. A flush spread out under the soft, warm brown of her skin and he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the elegant line of her collarbone.

“Let go of my hands,” she demanded.

HE stared down at her, the misty gray of his eyes boring into hers, hot as molten steel. Slowly, his fingers uncurled from her wrists, the pads of his fingertips tracing down over one arm, across her shoulder, and up her jawline until he could cup her face. He arched her jaw upward and took her mouth, his tongue echoing the rhythm of his body as he started to pump deep, deep inside her.

She wrapped her arms around him, sinking her nails into the ridge of muscle along his back, a scream rising inside her, only to lodge, breathless, in her throat. Too much . . . too much . . .

He drove into her, so hard, so fast, stealing the breath out of her.

And climax shimmered right there . . . just out of reach. Then, just when she was certain she would die from the painful pleasure of it, he shifted, moving higher on her body and changing his angle. At the same time, he tore his mouth from hers and set his teeth on the curve where her neck met her shoulder. As he bit down, the climax exploded through her and she thought she was just going to die from the pleasure of it.

THE faint, gray light of dawn was streaming in through the slit in her curtains when Vaughnne awoke. There wasn’t a sound, but she came awake the moment Gus rolled away from her. She already ached for him; he hadn’t even left yet and she was lonely.

She was going to miss him.

Every day for the rest of her life. It shouldn’t happen like this. Damn it to hell, it shouldn’t happen like this. If she was going to fall for a guy, why couldn’t she have fallen for one she could keep ?

She rolled onto her side and watched him climb out of the bed and her heart skipped a beat. Wistful, she bit back a sigh. Then again, she was being stupid. She had absolutely no desire to undo a minute with him. Maybe she couldn’t keep him, but the days she’d spent with him burned brighter on her memory than any other she could recall.

If she had to settle for something vivid like this that would end in heartache, or something just . . . mediocre that she barely recalled a few months, a few years later? This was better, she thought. She hoped she could remember that later on down the road when she was cussing him out for leaving her.

He didn’t speak as he dressed. She didn’t bother saying anything. There was no point in trying to get him to change his mind. He’d already decided what he needed to do. He wasn’t there looking to see if she wanted him even. If he’d shown any sign of that, then she’d be all over him, giving him all the reasons he needed to stay.

But he’d come with a purpose in mind.

So fine.

Let him go.

Swallowing around the knot in her throat, she told herself she could get through this. The first few days would be the worst, right? After her father had thrown her out, once she’d gotten through the first few weeks, the first month or so, she’d figured out how to get along and she’d been okay. This couldn’t really be any worse than that.

In the dim light, he turned to face her after he’d pulled his shirt on, and she rolled onto her back as he came to sit on the side of the bed.

He reached up and touched her cheek. “Thank—”

“If you say thank you to me, I’m going to break your nose,” she warned softly.

A faint smile danced across his face, there, then gone. “Do you really think I can leave without saying thank you for helping me with Alex?”

She sat up and leaned in until they were nose to nose. “Anything else and I’m punching you, Gus. I did my job. Period.”

“Your job . . .” He sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. “What you did, were willing to do, was so much more. We both know it. But if that is how you want it . . .” He shrugged. Then he reached over for something on the nightstand.

She hadn’t noticed it before. The sight of it made her heart slam against her ribs for some reason and her chest ached.

It was stupid, maybe. No reason for a piece of paper to make her hurt, she thought. Especially when she hadn’t seen what was on it. But she already hurt, just seeing him hold it, his head bent as he stared down at it. Although it was too dark for him to read it, it was as though he was committing whatever words were on that paper to heart.

“Alex is with your boss.”

And the pain in her heart ripped deeper through her, if that was possible.

Swallowing, she nodded slowly. Unable to sit there, naked save for the sheet and blanket pooled around her waist, she climbed out of bed and padded over to her dresser. She tugged open a drawer and pulled out a shirt at random. It fell to mid-thigh, covering her decently, but she still felt exposed so she pulled open another drawer and fished out a pair of yoga pants. “Yeah, he’s still with Dez and Taylor. He’s made some progress from what I’ve heard.”

“Progress.”

The sound of his voice, hollow and empty, set off warnings in her head.

Slowly, she turned to look at him.

“I did what I could, you know,” he said quietly. “I did everything I could think of . . . letting him practice on me until I was almost immune to the headaches. I read so many bullshit websites, searching for any useful information I could find that might help him. And I still failed him.”