My Biker Bodyguard (16 page)

She grinned up at him. "We make a great team."
"Definitely." His smile faded a bit, his gaze clouding
slightly as it dipped toward her mouth. Mints crunched and he
swallowed, the knot of his Adams apple bobbing. "You know
what this means, don't you?"
She shook her head, unable to find her voice. The feel of
his broad shoulders, the muscles there moving as his thumb
made lazy circles below the strap of her bra, took all the words
out of her head.
"It means that we're almost done here."
"Almost over." She breathed the words out on a sense of
loss. What would it be like to go home? Never to feel this
hard, muscled body–this sense of security and danger all
mingled into one large ball of temptation beneath her hands?
Unbidden, she imagined him on top of her, his hot, warm,
naked skin sliding against the inside of her thighs. The double
threat to her body and heart created a fusion of mad, emotional
need that couldn't be resisted a moment longer. She stood on
her toes, breasts pressing against the zippers and snaps on his
leather coat.
His mouth covered hers, tentative, brushing lips against
lips, tasting her acceptance, sharing his minty flavor. She
opened to him, inviting him with the tip of her tongue. Shivers
raced down her back, hit the hot core of her, and spread
through her breasts, electrifying her skin as he pulled her
closer.
He growled in the back of his throat as she ran her fingers
over the nearly-bare skin of his scalp, as she gripped the
muscles across his shoulders and pressed into his chest.
The kiss hardened, grew more intense, exactly as she
wanted it to be. Again and again, his mouth slanted over hers.
He trailed a hand down her back. Eyes closed, she murmured
in pleasure, arching for him, giving herself fully to the
wonderful torment of her escalating passion.
A knock came on the door and Mitch abruptly stepped
away. A blow of cold wind filled the empty space where Mitch
had been. She straightened, cheeks hot, as the door opened and
Agent Davis stepped in. Smoothing her hair, her lips humming
from the friction, she saw the knowing look in Davis's eyes.
"Agent Davis," she said quickly, sounding breathless even
to herself. "Mitch told me the good news."
The agent looked between them, eyes narrowed, as if
they'd satisfied a suspicion he'd carried for a long time. "I
imagine he did. Were you celebrating?"
Mitch rolled his shoulders, turned and draped one arm
around Jess. "You could say that."
Mitch's display of affection, of acknowledgment, made
her heart stutter with surprise. He didn't care anymore what
Davis thought and she stood taller beside him, determined not
to care either.
"I wanted to let you know we're not in the clear yet.
We've put some feelers out, and it doesn't look like Grady hired
anyone else, but you should keep your guard up, at least until
we catch him."
"What do we do in the meantime?" Jess asked, hoping
he'd tell her she and Mitch could go back to the estate.
"I'm sure you'll find something to keep you occupied."
Davis gave Mitch an odd look. "Just keep your eyes open."
"Will do," Mitch answered in a way that said he didn't
need to be told to do his job, he did it in his sleep.
Davis started through the door, then stopped and went to
Jess. He shook her hand. "It's been a real pleasure, Ms. Owen.
If you need anything, let us know."
"Thank you, I will." She gave him a little wave as he left
and then turned to Mitch. "Aren't they gonna be at the house
still?"
"Don't know." Mitch shook his head. "We've got enough
security, we don't need them. It'll be fine."
"What about my mom? Is she still under guard?"
"Yeah, we'll keep her covered until Grady's caught." He
smiled softly, pointedly at her, a soft caress. "You ready to go
home?"
"Home." Jess wouldn't have believed, even a moment
ago, it would be so difficult to think of leaving L.A.–to leave
Mitch. "You think I should go back to Milwaukee now?"
Mitch studied her, his dark eyes conflicted. "It might be a
good idea, to be on the safe side, if you stayed here until we've
got Grady in custody. You might want to wait and see if Beth
comes around before you head back."
She nodded. Her mother. Half of her wished her mother
would wake up right away, the other half hoped her mother
didn't wake up until she was safely back in Milwaukee.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Her mother
had done the leaving, she should do the returning, instigate the
reunion, not the daughter who'd been abandoned. It felt like an
apology for something she hadn't done.
Mitch enveloped her in his big arms. She laid her head
against his chest, heard the steady, strong beat of his heart. At
least she wouldn't have to leave him so soon. On the other
hand, if she stayed here much longer, leaving would become
just as hard as staying.
She closed her eyes, and wished it was all over, that she
was already back home, and that Mitch had truly decided to
sell off all his stuff and head for greener pastures.

Mitch found Jared in his home office. He looked better,
less exhausted, more his normal self. "Did you hear the news
yet?"

Jared looked up from whatever he'd been doing on the
computer. A startled, almost wary look in his eyes changed to
a welcoming glow. "Mitch. I did hear. I'm so glad that you
and Jess are both safe. Thank God they've finally got what
they need to go after Grady. Now they can leave me alone.
Any word on when they'll catch up to him?"

Mitch nodded. "They think it'll be a few days at most.
With this evidence, they got enough now to get him extradited
back to the states."

"Excellent." Jared clicked his mouse a few times as Mitch
sat in the chair across from him. The sound of the computer
closing down filled the momentary silence. When Jared looked
back at him, his face had fallen into deeper lines of worry.
"The hospital called. The bomb threat turned out to be a false
alarm. Beth is back in her room, safe and sound. I don't like
leaving her there, though. I wonder, could we bring her home?
I'd hire the best nurses to care for her."

Mitch shook his head. "Wait until Grady's in custody and
she's strong enough to be away from the doctors."
Jared sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Of course. I
just…miss her."
Mitch wondered how he'd feel if it was Jess in a coma, if
she was the one trapped in a deep dark place far away from
him. He certainly wouldn't be sitting at a computer, or worried
about the FBI and the LAPD investigating him. He had a
feeling he'd spend most of his time praying to a God he wasn't
a hundred percent sure even existed. That made him feel like a
hypocrite. "I know you miss her, Jared. You can spend as
much time at the hospital as you need to."
"It's not the same." Jared scowled. "I want my wife back.
I want our life back."
Uncomfortable, Mitch leaned forward, elbows on knees,
and studied his hands. In these situations, the client was either
used to giving orders, putting on a front for the troops, or
simply too frightened to hear logic. Beth had managed to drag
him into the fold, like a cult-leader brainwashing their
followers into becoming part of the family. Maybe it really
was time for him to retire if maintaining his distance was
getting too hard. He had no idea what to say to Jared.
Jared, obviously sensing his unease, waved a hand in the
air. "Never mind, Mitch. You've done an excellent job for us.
I don't think we'll need your services any longer–if you'd rather
see to the needs of someone else, move on, so to speak, I'd
completely understand."
"No." Mitch said too quickly, too brusquely.
Leave right
now? This day?
No, he wasn't going anywhere. "I'll stick
around until Grady's in custody."
"I appreciate your loyalty, Mitch." Jared's dark eyes bore
into him. "But it's really not necessary. I don't want your
abilities wasted on babysitting us. Pullman can keep us safe
while we wait."
Mitch stood. "All the same, I'd like to stick it through.
I've never left a job unfinished."
"As you wish." Jared sounded almost hostile now. Mitch
had a creepy sensation, a stray thought, a gut instinct that he
didn't care for. Jared reclined in his seat. "Is Jess going back
to Milwaukee?"
"No. I'd rather not risk it yet." Mitch sounded colder than
he meant, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Jared…
What?
What about Jared? He knows more than he's letting on
. "Did
something happen while we were out this morning?"
"No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
The question sounded innocent, so genuine, that Mitch felt
disloyal for his sudden suspicion. "Nothing. Don't worry
about it. Beth will wake up soon, Grady'll be put away for a
long time, and you can get your life back."
"I certainly hope so. This ordeal has been completely
exhausting."
Mitch edged toward the door. "I'll let you get back to
work."
"Thanks Mitch, thanks for everything." Jared picked up a
pen, sliding a stack of papers in front of him. "I'll be down for
dinner this evening."
Mitch nodded and left to find Jess. He wanted to see her
with his own eyes, to make sure she was okay, and not lying in
the dining room, bleeding from a bullet wound. As he passed
through the carpeted corridor, he forced himself to a steady
pace, forced himself to ignore the crazy urge to run.
* * *
Jess stepped backward to get a more overall view of the
landscape hanging above the large fireplace. She took another
bite of the large apple in her hand, chewing as she gazed at the
pattern of brush strokes. The view was of the back of the
estate, the same view she'd seen from her bedroom window.
Someone had done this painting. Someone with the initials
B.W. Beth Weston? Was her mother an artist?
The apple was sweet, juicy, and tasted better than any
she'd had before. She took another bite, almost mechanically,
unable to allow a moment to pass where the delicious nectar
wasn't filling her mouth, sluicing over her taste buds. She'd
heard of extreme experiences sharpening the senses, making
things more intense, but she'd never thought it could make an
apple taste as if it was from heaven itself.
"Hey, Jess."
She turned and saw Mitch leaning against the door frame.
Her body filled with the sparkling sensation that he evoked,
and like the apple, the feeling was stronger than any she'd had.
I'm gonna implode, right here, on the spot
. She managed to
croak a weak, "Hey."
Mitch straightened and came closer, disturbing the air
with his leather and spice sent. "How are you feeling? You
okay?"
She nodded and swallowed the bite of apple. "Yeah, I just
hate waiting."
He stood too close, his gaze heavy on all the parts of her
that wanted his touch. He rubbed her upper arms gently with a
friction that exploded through her. "Me too, Sugarplum."
Jess swallowed and grinned, "Don't call me…."
She didn't get to finish. His mouth captured hers, cutting
her off. She didn't care. This was where she wanted to be–
where she wanted to stay. His tongue invaded her mouth,
searching, tasting, rubbing against her tongue in a luxurious
carnal tingle she felt in her toes. In seconds, she was lost,
feeling the hardness of his chest against her soft breasts, feeling
the hardness of him against her belly.
He kissed her with his entire body. Her arms wound
around his neck, she trusted him to support her, to take the
weight of the world off her shoulders and let him sweep her
away to this fantasy. His dreams became hers, her future
melded to his. She was lost to him, to the man who read her so
well, who cared for her in a way no one else ever had, who
thought she was worth fighting for. A man who believed in
her, the woman, the real person no one else took the time to
see.
"I can't resist you," he murmured against her ear, his
breath hot and sensual. "You taste so sweet."
She remembered the apple then, clutched in her fist. She
could feel the sticky dampness over her hand where she'd
squeezed the half-eaten core. She brought it forward, unable to
find the words to explain it was the apple, not her.
Mitch took it and dragged the juice across her throat,
following the neckline of her shirt, pressing it against her
galloping heart so the nectar dripped between her breasts.
He followed the juice with his mouth, lapping the sticky
wetness with his tongue. Jess moaned, bent back by the
pressure of his heavenly mouth, arched over the glorious
strength of his arm. Eyes closed, she gave herself to the
sensation, to fully experiencing his magic.
His chin tugged on the line of her shirt, dragging it down
as he followed the sweetness further. Her free hand knotted in
the back of his shirt, begging him to keep going, to finish this
finally, to take her here, in this opulent room, with her mother's
painting hanging over them, like a promise of paradise.
"Mitch," Jess called softly. She couldn't breathe, didn't
want to, didn't want to wake up, but they weren't alone in the
house, weren't somewhere private where they could finish this.
Oh, she didn't want him to stop. "Mitch."
He lifted his head, eyes dark with erotic promise. She
couldn't take it. A glow ignited into an explosion in her gut.
She wanted to double over and answer the intense need herself
if she had to.
His jaw hardened, as if he too felt the pain of denied
release. Without a word he grabbed her hand and pulled her
through the back of the house. She glimpsed a busy kitchen,
two people chatting by a huge refrigerator, but it barely
registered. Her heart still raced, her body still screamed for
him. She ran beside him, matching his long strides with two of
her own.
Outside, she was confronted by the hazy, humid reality of
the painting–a surreal journey through Wonderland. Following
a path toward a large building that looked like stables, images
of disheveled, busty women with hay sticking from their hair
filled her head. She quickened her pace.
Inside, the scent of clean hay, horses, and wood mingled
with the motes of dust in the late afternoon sunshine. Mitch
tossed the apple toward a beautiful white horse, pulled her
further along, grabbed a blanket draped over a hook on the
wall. He turned to her. She didn't stop, but rushed into his
arms.
She kissed him with everything she had, pulling at his
shirt, almost frantic to feel his naked chest beneath her hands.
No turning back.
"Jess," he whispered in a voice full of need. He walked
her backward, his mouth never leaving hers. The rhythm of his
tongue inside her mouth stoked the flames already raging
through her body. She felt, rather than saw him toss the
blanket over a heap of hay in the empty stall behind her. She
was suddenly on her back, looking up at him, her hands inside
his shirt, feeling the sparse bits of hair over the muscled chest
she'd dreamed about since the day they'd met.
"Hurry," she pleaded.
He rose enough to discard the shirt. Jess lifted herself to
press her mouth against the black work tattoo spiraling outward
from his broad shoulder, dropping down to pass over the top of
his nipple. She took that dark, hardened skin between her lips,
grazing it lightly with her teeth. He inhaled sharply, his hand
pressing into the back of her hair with gentle need.
He pulled her back and dropped his mouth over hers
again, pressing her into the mound of hay with his hips and the
hard length of him burning through the fabric of his pants.
Lifting her shirt high on her ribs, he carefully spread kisses
across her bruises. She arched beneath him, eyes closed, ready
and impatient reveling in the mixture of pleasure, of pain.
He pushed her shirt higher, unhooked the front clasp on
her bra, and left, hot, open-mouthed kisses along the bird of
paradise tattoo spread between her breasts. The feathered
wings flared over the rise of flesh, the dangling tail dripped
toward her navel. He left no detail untasted, no line untouched.
She wanted his mouth to find the others on her body, to bathe
them with his magical touch.
His thumbs teased her nipples into knots of sensitized
flesh and she hummed with pleasure. Then he suckled, tongue
and teeth bringing her to the brink. She called his name, raised
her knees, and pulled him forward. She wanted him now.
Mitch trailed kisses down to her belly button, filling the
soft well with his tongue. Her toes curled painfully inside her
shoes and she kicked them off, crying his name louder this
time, begging him to end her torment. Lost to the erotic wave
of desire crashing over her, she barely noticed her pants slide
down, his tugging on the blue panties she'd put on that
morning.
She placed her weight on her shoulders and mindlessly
lifted her pelvis up, aiding him as best as she could without any
real brain left working in her head. Somehow she managed to
unzip his pants, to start tugging them back down over the rise
of his firm backside. His skin slid across hers, hard and sleek,
rising, sliding as he twisted and pulled. Then they were naked.
He kissed her again, his scorching flesh covering her trembling,
vibrating body.
"Jess, I need you," his voice rumbled in her ear. "I need
you now."
"Yes," she managed, lifting and inviting him inside her
without another word.
Instantly, he was in her, the whole of him, filling her to
the core. She cried out in ecstasy, matching his rhythm, taking
all of him. Again and again he drove her deeper into the hay.
She grabbed his shoulders, held the bulging muscles of his
arms, kissed any part of him that neared her mouth. The hairs
on his chest brushed over her sensitive nipples, adding to the
frenzy exploding inside of her.
He moaned her name, over and over again, calling to her,
nearly growling in the deep rumble of his darkly enticing voice.
She felt herself building to the moment of explosion, her inner
self tightening around him, expanding and growing and
howling with the need for release. He quickened, urged on by
her insistent demand for more, for harder, for right now.
Then it happened. The climax came over her in a tidal
wave of molten gold, flowing through her and out of her with
such force, she hollered the release, arching up in a spasm that
killed any semblance of humanity in her, that ate up her sanity
and left her dazed.
He cried out a moment later, shaking and pulsing his
release, so deep inside her, she felt every beat, every nuance of
his nirvana. He collapsed on her, elbows taking the most of his
weight, but not enough to keep her from trembling everywhere.
Breathing hard, her hands tracing lazy circles over his
back, she took many minutes to find her control, to gather the
pieces of herself back into a whole person again.
"You're amazing," Mitch said softly, his voice filled with
wonder. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Jess shook her head, still incapable of forming any words.
A horse chuffed directly over head. She twisted and saw the
dark nose of a horse watching them. It's wide gaze seemed to
say,
"I know what you're doing and you've got it all wrong."
She chuckled and Mitch turned to look too. He laughed,
his entire body shifting on top of her. Tossing a handful of
hay, Mitch said, "Hey, Mr. Ed, go get your own filly."
Whether the horse understood or not, the flying hay sent
him back into his own stall.
Grinning, Jess said, "You've got a way with animals."
"So do you."
She understood he meant him, and patted his head,
rubbing the stubble. "Good boy."
Smiling, he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and
then her lips, lingering for a moment, before rolling off her and
gathering his shirt. Silently, they dressed. Jess turned away,
suddenly shy and overcome by a sense of vulnerability. God,
she knew what they meant by orgasmic now. Her fingers still
trembled as she hooked her bra in place.
Behind her, she heard the sound of him pulling up the
zipper on his pants. "Jess?"
"
Hmm
?" She tugged her shirt over head and worked her
panties back up, shifting to her knees to get them all the way
on.
Mitch was behind her, pulling hair from inside her shirt,
making her shiver. "I was thinking, when it's time for you to
go home, back to Milwaukee, I mean, how would you like
some company?"