Radclyffe - Honor Guards

Renee shifted slightly and deposited the newspaper she'd been reading onto the coffee table beside her feet, which were propped on its tiled surface. "You fell asleep in the middle of toast."

Stark groaned. She curled on her side and pressed her face to the curve of Renee's abdomen, hoping to hide her acute humiliation. She registered at that point that the material beneath her cheek was soft, brushed cotton and that a multitude of tiny animals danced on the edges of her field of vision. "You have a jungle on your boxers," she mumbled, her mind a mass of confused embarrassment and awakening arousal.

Chuckling, Renee insinuated her fingers through Stark's dark hair and massaged her neck softly. "You should see what I've got inside."

Stark's blood pressure shot through the roof, her stomach flipped, and her heart came to a complete standstill. Her breath whooshed out on a reflexive moan.

"However," Renee continued, her stomach tightening as she felt Stark tremble, "since it's 1300 hours and you're due at a briefing in an hour, I don't think you're going to get a chance to find out today."

I fell asleep on her. Literally on her. Jesus! Thoroughly mortified, Stark rolled back once again and looked up with imploring eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a dud."

"A dud?" The corner of Renee's mouth lifted in a smile at once tender and seductive. "Let's see—you worked all day yesterday, you were up all night, and then you were ordered to take a few hours' downtime. The first thing you did at that point was call me." She curled downward and kissed Stark's forehead, then her mouth. "Believe me, sweetie, you have nothing to apologize for. But if you don't get your tail in gear, you'll be late for one of Roberts's briefings. Then we won't have to worry about the condition of your ass, because she will have chewed it off."

Sweetie. She called me sweetie. Stark curled one arm back, found the hand stroking her hair, and threaded her fingers through Renee's. "A week ago when we were back in New York, we were half a second away from tearing each other's clothes off. I want you just as much right now." She took a breath, took the plunge. "More. A lot more."

Renee's blue eyes widened, and her full lips parted in surprise. "One of the things I lo—find so enchanting about you is your absolute lack of pretense. You say what you mean." At least I hope you do, because that's why I'm falling in love with you.

"Why did you stop? Back then." Stark's question was soft, gentle.

Renee sighed and looked across the room, but her mind looked back over the last ten years of her life. Pensively, she replied, "I haven't had many relationships of consequence in my life, and none to speak of in the last few years. Most of them couldn't stand up to the demands of the training and then the work that we do." She shrugged and sighed again. "You know what I mean—the hours are terrible, we can't talk very much about the specifics, and even when we do, most people won't understand it. It was just easier not to get serious about anyone." She felt Stark grow still against her side, and she looked back down, finding dark, understanding eyes as she brushed her fingers through the hair on Stark's forehead. "You and I—we had something in common, right from the beginning, even if at first we didn't see eye to eye."

"The job," Stark replied, knowing that Renee knew what she knew-—that the job defined who they were as much as, or more than, what they did.

"Mmm. Yeah...but it's not just the job. You're special." Shyly, Renee added, "You make me feel special."

"I hope so," Stark murmured fervently. "I think you're the most wonderful woman I've ever met. I hope I make you feel that way." She flushed. "Except I don't know exactly how to do that."

"Maybe thinking about me first before anything else, even after twenty-four hours with no sleep doing one of the most stressful jobs in the world, is a good start."

"You didn't quite answer the question," Stark pressed carefully. Tell me if there's something wrong—if there's something you need that I can give you.

"No, I didn't." Renee smiled wanly, "I want you today just as much...more...than I did that night. I think about it; I dream about it. I'm just..afraid."

That wasn't what Stark expected. Her brows furrowed in concern. "Why? Is it something I've done? Something I've said?"

"No, just the opposite. You're a little bit too good to be true." Renee blushed and twirled a lock of Stark's hair around her fingertips. "I'm afraid if I sleep with you, and it doesn't work out, it's really going to hurt."

Stark pushed up on the sofa until she was sitting beside Renee. She slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled the other woman close. With her lips lightly brushing Renee's hair, she whispered, "I think you're special, too. I don't know how to tell when the time is right, but that's what I want. For it to be right."

Sighing with contentment and not a small degree of frustration, Renee threaded her arm around Stark's waist. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being patient."

Laughing, Stark dipped her head and captured Renee's mouth. She slipped her tongue between Renee's lips, danced over the surface of her tongue, and slid out again. "I'm not patient. In fact, I'm pretty sure something's going to explode before long. But I'm not taking any chances on messing this up."

With a small cry, Renee pushed her hands into Stark's hair and shifted until she was lying half in her lap. Her mouth on Stark's was hungry, needy, demanding. In another second they were lying stretched out on the sofa, Renee's thigh tight between Stark's, Stark's hands beneath Renee's blouse, their hips moving in perfect synchrony, thrusting hard. Someone groaned.

Stark wrenched her mouth away. "Oh man. Man...I want you so bad."

"Oh yeah." Gasping, Renee pressed her forehead to Stark's chest. "Oh yeah. I think maybe I'm done waiting."

"You gotta wait..." Stark's voice was a desperate plea. "Just a little longer. I gotta go."

Groaning, Renee could only nod.

"I'm gonna think about you all—"

"Shh," Renee murmured, pressing tightly to her. "Once you walk out of here, I don't want you to think about anything except the job. I want you totally focused on Egret, just like you always are. Then, when you're off shift, I want you to come back to me. Safe and sound."

"I don't know how I got so lucky," Stark whispered, tilting Renee's chin up and kissing her with a series of tender, gentle caresses.

"We got lucky," Renee sighed against her mouth.

The thin man knelt by the three-foot wall that rimmed the fiat expanse of the rooftop, shielded from view by the oversized air-conditioning units and heating ducts. If anyone opened the rooftop door, he would hear them, and he had the advantage of surprise.

He did not, however, expect visitors. The first security check was over, and the second was likely to be cursory. After assessing the sightline to the hospital entrance, he once again opened the toolbox, this time lifting out the upper compartment. Beneath that lay the barrel of a Heckler and Koch G36 assault rifle. From various pockets in his gray coveralls, he removed the remaining components of the weapon, which he had fleldstripped just that morning before departing the rooming house he had inhabited for the last fourteen months. Quickly and efficiently, he assembled the 3.6 kilogram weapon and loaded it with a standard magazine carrying thirty rounds. In the lower compartment of the tool chest were additional magazines. The German assault rifle was capable of firing 750 rounds of 5.56 x 45mm bullets per minute. He did not expect to need more than one.

Seated on the sofa in the high-ceilinged palatial suite, Blair drew out her sketch pad and opened it on her lap. Critically, she appraised that morning's work, thinking about the upcoming show scheduled in Manhattan in three weeks. It wasn't her first gallery exhibition, but it was her first solo showing. She was nervous and excited and just a little resentful that she couldn't concentrate completely on the work that mattered the most to her. Her other responsibilities—her official duties—so often interfered. Although she was proud to represent her country and happy to assist her father in any way possible, his dream had never been her dream. Nevertheless, she had embraced it as much as she possibly could. She flipped through the pages until she came to the last drawing she had done. Cam had not been aware of Blair sketching her, or if she had been, she had not shown any sign of it.