A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2) (8 page)

A vague sense of unease fills my pores.

Time to run it off.

I
live
six miles from The Grove, but it’s like living in another world. The apartments on the beach up the coast are nice and way above my old pay grade in the military, but as I pound out the miles on dirt paths and paved roads, dipping into the beach sand here and there, I feel the money
change
.

You can smell money in California. It smells like a freshly-watered green lawn.

Having studied topography and boundary maps of the three square miles around The Grove, I know exactly how to get on the estate grounds without being noticed.

Which enrages me. My guys should be better.

I trained them to do better.

“Gentian!” I bark into my ear piece. “Jesus Fucking Christ, I just snuck onto the grounds. What the hell are the -- ”

A red laser from a rifle sight bounces right between my eyes.

“Not good enough,” I grunt. “Twenty seconds is all they need. Do better.”

“We just turned the sight on to make a point, sir. Had you the entire time.”

Good man.

“Fair enough.”

“There a problem, sir?”

“No. Just coming in to check out the terrain and reinforce security.”

“They’re safe, sir. We’ve got it covered.”

Apparently, they do.

He comes out of the bushes to my right, wearing dark, casual clothes, gun belt loose around his waist, no attempt made to hide it.

“Lindsay’s here,” he informs me.

“Where else would she be?” I bark.

“There was some question about whether she’d accompany her mother to New York for a charity event.”

“Oh.”

“Her mother declined. Said Lindsay’s not ready for it.”

I snort. “Monica’s PR people probably told her the numbers wouldn’t move in the positive direction.”

“I gathered as much.”

Gentian’s looking at Lindsay’s window, which is dark.

“No sign of those bastards or their operatives?”

“None.”

“You double-checked the backgrounds of all my men?”

“Yes. They’re clean.”

My bladder has been screaming for attention since mile three. I walk around a bush, void it, and come back to find him gone.

“Sir?” My earpiece crackles. “Change of the team for the new shift. If you need me, we can meet up again inside.”

“No. Go do the shift switch.” I stare at the pale grey glass, the nighttime sky reflected in her window, the sheer curtains behind it wispy, decorative nothingness. We’ve added thick curtains designed to help with gunshots. While the glass is bulletproof, it’s not perfect. I make a mental note to check on additional infrastructure issues we can upgrade on the house.

And then the curtains part, Lindsay appearing in the moonlight, wearing a gauzy nightgown, her hair down and loose around her shoulders.

My mouth goes dry.

My heart stops.

My body burns.

She’s looking out at the ocean, the waves gorgeous under the moonlight, the sound so soothing it’s a lullaby. I don’t look, instead taking the rare chance to observe her without her knowing. In profile, she’s ethereal, the long line of her straight nose leading to a full upper lip I’ve kissed a thousand times, and want to kiss a million more.

Her flowing blond hair tumbles down around her shoulders like it’s eager to caress her, as if it knows how privileged it is to be part of her body. She tucks a loose strand behind her ear and sighs, leaning against the window pane on her hands, blinking as she breathes slowly. Her eyebrows turn down and the worry lines appear on her face.

She’s too young to have worry lines like that.

I want to smooth them away.

It’s my job to protect her, but it’s my life’s mission to make her feel like she never needs to be protected. To make her feel so safe she never has to worry again.

As her forehead presses against the glass, she closes her eyes, long lashes resting softly against the fine bones of her cheeks. Lindsay is the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted. I’ve been with others, but that wasn’t real – it was just the momentary relief of not being alone. Fleeting and simple, it left me unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Wanting more, but always with someone else.

With the woman I’m staring at right now.

A single tear rolls down her cheek and my throat tightens. I want to wipe it away. I want to bury her cheek in my shoulder and hold her until she doesn’t hurt any more.

Her eyes snap open and meet mine.

Drew
, she says, her mouth forming my name.

And then she closes her eyes and lifts her hand, pressing her palm against the glass.

That’s all the invitation I need.

The sprint around the house and through the kitchen door is greeted by various security team members calling out, “Sir,” snapping to attention like the ex-military members they are. Rank doesn’t count here.

Being their boss does.

I’m up the stairs two at a time until I stop in front of her door, two guys watching me, turning away when they are certain of my identity. My heart’s slamming in my chest like I’m slapping it. I curl my fingers into a fist and knock.

“Come in,” she says in a tiny voice that feels like tears.

I open the door without looking at her, pivoting to close it slowly, turning the lock without discussion. I know why she invited me.

So does she.

Four years of wondering are about to end.

Four years of trying to atone are about to be redeemed.

She stands in front of the window, turned toward me, eyes wide and glistening. A small, dim light next to her bed is the only way I can see her, the moonlight behind her crowded out by the curtains, which slowly swish as she steps forward, abruptly cutting off the outdoor light.

Her nightgown is open at the neck, an oddly feminine article that isn’t the norm for her. Then again, what’s normal for Lindsay?

She moves like sunshine, like stardust, her feet bare and sweet, her arms at her sides.

“Drew,” she whispers.

By the time she starts to say another word, she’s in my arms and my mouth is on hers, silencing her. I’m brutal, and I don’t care. I need to take this kiss. I need to pull it out of her, gasp by gasp, moan by moan. I need to make her give it to me until she begs me to stop.

Until she’s ready for more.

Until her pain is gone.

“You taste like sweat and alcohol,” she says with a laugh.

“Guilty of both.” I roll my lips, biting them. “Alcohol’s long out of my system from the run. That okay?” I want her to know I’m clear-headed.

She shrugs and frowns. “I didn’t – God, Drew, that was close. Why did you beat him up?”

She wants to talk.

Huh.

Okay...

“How could I not?” The words are wrenched out of me, pulled like a tug-of-war, scraped across my tongue. I cool my jets. That kiss fired them up. “That bastard was right there, Lindsay. He fucking
dared
to talk to you. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air. Not from a continent away.”

Her eyes search my face, asking for something. I don’t know what.

“Thank you.”

“For hitting him? No need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.”

“You did it for both of us. When I saw him talking to you, some part of me died inside.”

“You’ve had more than enough parts beaten and broken. You don’t need more.”

“But I can’t forget.”

Her face burns with revenge.

A prickly heat starts at the base of my spine and shoots up. “Lindsay, stay out of this.”

“Stay out of what?”

“Whatever you’re planning.”

She gives me a hard look.

But doesn’t deny it.

I try a different tack.

“We can work together.”

“What?” She’s genuinely surprised.

“Together. This is bigger than both of us. Getting back at them is, too. You stole my gun, Lindsay. You’re afraid my guys and I can’t protect you. You’re trying to be a lone wolf. You don’t have to. Don’t you see? That’s why I’m here. Why my guys are here.”

“I thought you were here because my father hired you.”

“That’s the surface reason.”

She narrows her eyes, studying me, all traces of crying gone.

“I still don’t know who to trust. Mom and Daddy said I did well today. Mom was horrified by the strange ‘accident’ you and Blaine had.”

I let out a grunt.

“And they don’t want me on any more campaign stops for a while.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Relieved.”

I would be, too. None of this is what she wants.

“But I have this big feeling of ‘now what?’ hanging over me.”

“So do I,” I tell her, voice low, body language clear.

Her face turns, looking out the window, but she steps into my body space again. I wrap my arms around her. She sinks into me. The heat of her skin makes her so soft. So yielding.

“I’ve missed you,” I say.

“I was a complete bitch to you earlier,” she says with a cold laugh. But she doesn’t move out of my arms.

“That’s fine. It turns me on.”

She smiles and shakes her head fast, like she can’t believe me. “Pervert.”

I just shrug.

We go silent. As seconds tick by, the stakes get higher. I did punch Blaine today. That was a tactical move motivated by pure revenge. I need to up my game. Planned attacks are one thing.

Impulse will get me killed.

Or worse.

Acting on impulse could get Lindsay harmed.

That is unacceptable.

I bury my nose in Lindsay’s hair and inhale.

The moonlight shimmers as she pulls the curtains closed. Without another word, she turns, reaches up, and presses the full length of her body against mine. Long and languid, like hot caramel being poured up my body, she seals the embrace with a kiss.

Not just any kiss.

Her lips open and her tongue insists on getting my full attention.

Which isn’t a problem.

At
all
.

We kiss, a slow, wet connection that makes my sweaty shirt soak into her. Lindsay doesn’t seem to care. Her fingers thread through the wet hair at the nape of my neck. Her little sounds of pleasure drive me further. Soon, my hands are on her breasts and she’s grabbing my shoulders, one hand riding down to my ass.

This escalated fast.

Thank God.

“What you did was so powerful,” she gasps against my mouth. Pulling back, her eyes blaze as we look at each other. “I haven’t felt that protected in -- ”

“In four years.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t look away. She doesn’t get mad. She doesn’t look uncertain.

Instead, she kisses me again.

“Plus,” she adds as she comes up for air, the electrical charge between us almost visible, “he didn’t see it coming. Those assholes are taunting me. They think they have all the control.” A calculating smile turns those red lips into something diabolical. “But they have no idea what’s coming.”

“If anything’s coming, I want it to be you, first. Then us, together,” I groan in her ear, blowing lightly until she shivers. I get serious. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’m ready. That’s why I asked you up here. More than ready,” she whispers. Shoulders back, body language clear, this is a more confident Lindsay. Punching Blaine turns out to have been a move that puts me at a strategic advantage. Not against the scarves.

But in terms of my heart.

Lindsay trusts me now.

Enough to let me into her body, at least.

“You’re in control,” I tell her, stripping out of my running shirt. She gasps at my naked chest, flattening her palm against my pecs, sliding down.

“Sorry for the sweat,” I apologize.

“Don’t. It’s hot.” She reaches down and bites one of my nipples lightly.

“Hot as in sexy?” I hiss into her ear, picking her up and covering her body with mine. “Or hot as in heat.”

“Both.”

“I like both.” She touches the ear she bit the other day, eyebrows knitting with regret.

“I want everything, Drew. Everything. Make me feel. You already make me want you.” A gentle kiss on my ear punctuates her words.

“I do?”

“God, yes, you do.”

“Lindsay, I don’t want you.”

She tenses.

“I crave you. I
need
you. You’re like a drug and I’m an addict. You’re an obsession that won’t stop looping through my mind. I wish all I felt was want. This would be so much easier. Every second I’m not touching you is like being tortured.”

“Then stop torturing yourself.” She shimmies out of her nightgown.

She is completely naked underneath. Not even panties.

“Oh.” I swallow, throat suddenly dry. My running shorts tent. She looks down at my erection.

“Take those off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to ask me that every step of the way?”

“What do you want, Lindsay?” I comply with her request. It’s the least I can do.

We’re naked before each other. But are we truly stripped bare?

Her shoulders rise and fall faster, breasts pert and perfect, her breath quickening as she takes me in and says, “I want you to shut up and make love to me, Drew. I want to claim what’s ours. I want what we lost four years ago.”

“I’m not sure I can give all that to you.” I step forward and touch her arms, pulling her close, hip to hip.

“Then let’s at least try,” she rasps in my ear.

“That I can do, with tremendous pleasure.”

Or die trying.

T
his time
, the kiss holds expectation tinged with belief, the very real feeling that this is about to unfold. We’re naked, pressed together in a tangle of skin and limbs, hair and fingers, tongues finding secrets between us and making them come alive, exposing them to the air where they evaporate.

She tastes like salty sweet hope, like an unleashed temptress who finally gets to test the world, who can push and see how powerful she really is. I am not about to be an obstacle as Lindsay finally, exquisitely, reaches for what she wants.

Wholeness.

We can find it together, I know, as her hair tickles my jaw, our abs brushing together, her belly going tight as I cup one breast and revel in the fullness. It’s light and heavy, a globe of agile heat, and my fingertip skims the nipple, making her moan.

My cock pushes against her thigh, her legs shifting as I cradle her jaw with my other hand and kiss her until I can’t tell the difference between her breath and mine.

“You taste perfect. You taste like everything, Lindsay. I’ve wanted to kiss you a million times a day, every day, for four years. How do you do it?” Before she can answer, I kiss her again, a slow, languid kiss that takes its time, as if it’s separate from us, an entity that has its own agenda.

“Do what?” she asks, breathless. I slide my hand down her ribs, the sweet curve of her waist, the swell of her hip, then forward and lower, one finger sliding to a point that makes her gasp and cling to me, shuddering with pleasure.

“Taste so good.” I kiss her shoulder, touching her with slow, wet circles. Her knees bend and she gives me more of her weight as her lips part. I kiss my way down, until it’s my turn to bend my knees, lowering myself before her.

I worship at the altar of Lindsay.

“Spread your legs,” I order.

“What?” Her voice is hazy, a million miles away.

I use my hands to move her. She threads her fingers in my hair as I reach up, my tongue finding what I seek, my hands cupping her ass as she moans and widens her legs, standing before me as I kneel.

This.

Ah,
this
.

She tastes so much better right here. Her mouth is an appetizer, her nipples a garnish.

This is a main course.

“Drew, I -- ” Lindsay sucks in a huge breath and tightens as I seek warmth, one of my fingers inside her, the sound of appreciation that she makes all I need. I want to make her feel good. I want to make her let go. I want to be the one person in the entire world who gives her what she deserves.

Permission to be herself.

Every breath I take as she falls deeper and deeper into a place no one – not even I – can touch, makes me love her more. My hands and mouth can perform magic on her skin, but can they work to mend the years of hurt?

All I can do is try.

And try.

And never,
ever
stop trying.

She pulls away, but I tighten my hold, determined to make her lose herself so she can find herself again, bigger and better than before. There is nothing in the world more honorable than having someone choose to be raw and vulnerable with you. Nothing. Having Lindsay trust me enough to shatter and buck, to writhe and groan, is a gift.

“I want you, Drew. Deep inside me -- ” She gasps, her throat closed by the spasm that wraps my fingers in a tight clench, her sweet flesh swelling under my lips and tongue, her body swaying above me.

She folds. I follow. I chase her down, down, down to the ground where she quietly burns as climax after climax bring her to ecstasy, my singular goal to keep her in that place where all she knows is sensation and goodness, where her fine bones and supple flesh are the entire world, and where she can only say my name as if it were the singular lifeline she has to keep her tied to reality.

I’m doing this for her.

Me.

But she lets me.

Emotion pours through me, combined with arousal, catching my throat off-guard, making my eyes pinprick, my heart slamming in my chest like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I spiral inward as Lindsay’s hands cover mine, her thigh against my mouth as she twists, her voice a pale hush that says, “Oh, God, I need you.”

She sits up and pulls me to her, the taste of her willing surrender now on her lips, too, as we say so much with anything
but
words. Soon, I’m over her, the bed next to us, looming like a sentry, the floor more than enough for our connection, our linking, our reunion.

I’ve never been inside her before.

She has to ask. I won’t come uninvited.

“Please,” she whispers, the vibration low and soft. I feel it against my abs, her request diffusing out from her skin as well as in words. “Please, Drew. Make love to me. I want you in me. I want you everywhere.”

Stage fright isn’t my thing. Unlike other guys in my unit, I never froze when the pressure was on. And that’s not happening right now. It’s not.

Really.

But I lean down on one elbow and take my other hand, cupping her jaw. We look at each other without walls. Without pretense. But the past is there, hovering, watching.

It needs to see us together.

The past cannot be put to rest, put in its place, until it knows we’ve healed.

Our kiss lingers, the seconds chasing away all the fears, the worries, the condemnation and the insecurities. As we kiss, she moves under me, widening her legs.

“I’m on the pill,” she whispers, removing that concern. The comment brings me back to reality, and I suddenly am hyperaware of every aspect of my body. The cold push of air as she breathes against my sweat-soaked skin. How the moonlight curls into the grooves of muscle in my forearm. The way the curtains billow and make Lindsay’s eyes look like wet lace. The view of my hip against her ass cheek, resting together like two old friends.

How her perfect breasts settle against her chest when she’s flat on her back, her nipples tight like little crowns.

“You’re my queen,” I blurt out. Her eyes dance with amusement, the arousal still there.

“That’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever heard you say,” she replies, her fingertips giving me butterfly strokes up and down my side, halting at my hip, then moving with a bold perfection until she has me wrapped in her palm, all fire and rigid need.

“But you are,” I groan as she strokes me.

“Make love to me, Drew,” she says, taking me in. The tip is at her entrance, waiting, holding back as I move over her, knees on either side of her nude body, our fervent eagerness making us both shake. She is ready.

I’ve been ready forever.

And now it’s time.

Second by second, with aching slowness, I enter her. Lindsay looks at me the entire time, our eyes locked, and as I move into her, it is like finding holy ground without knowing it. I’ve stumbled across a portal into a place where nothing else matters. Just her. Just me.

Just us.

Just
this
.

“Oh,” she moans, the tiny hairs on her legs going to gooseflesh, the bumps shimmying up her leg from shin to hip, rippling. I feel it against my own hair-covered legs and I cannot describe it. The sensation is excruciatingly unique. It’s chilly and exciting, in contrast to the warm, wet glory of being inside her. I sink down, deep, and she widens for me.

“Come into me, Drew,” she says in my ear, licking my neck. “Come as deep as you can, until you touch the part of me I’ve kept from everyone else.”

For a split second, I freeze, a single image from that night hitting me full force. No. No. I am not going to let it contaminate this homecoming.

Fuck, no.

They do not get to destroy this. I can’t change the past, but letting thoughts of that hideous night touch one single second of making love with Lindsay isn’t happening.

It takes everything I have not to whisper the word
no
.

And that
no
isn’t for Lindsay.

“Drew?” She touches my cheek with one manicured finger and I twitch, jumping out of my own thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay, baby.” I lose myself in the kiss, her warmth infusing me, coming back into the amazing moment. “You make me better.” I slowly pull back, then move in her, the feeling superb.

She makes a breathy sound of pleasure. “I love you,” she says, eyes closed, a smile on her lips.

Fierce, pure love shoots through me like someone blasted a cannon filled with blood in my veins. “I love you too, Lindsay. God, I truly do. Let me show you.”

“You are showing me, Drew. Let’s show each other.”

And we do.

The build-up comes fast, with lightning speed, until we’re all moans and sighs, our names cried out and she’s so slippery, so wet for me, until all I am is her. We come together, Lindsay clinging to me with a shuddering finality that makes me explode, carried off by waves, the privilege of letting go with her a kind of love I didn’t know we could share.

Sweaty, sated, and breathing hard, I collapse onto her, still in her. She jolts and I move, just enough, face buried in the hot mess of her tangled hair. A sense of accomplishment, of pride, radiates out from my core to my hipbones, my quads, my glutes, up my spine, making me heady and dizzy.

I did it.

We did it.

Four years of pain and heartbreak, of recovery and hiding – gone.

Four years of the unknown, of mourning what we lost, of strategy and hope, of bitterness and regret – gone.

Her breath goes slow, my own steadying as the hot rasp of everything we just shared cycles back against my skin, feeding me, nourishing us. I pull up to say how full my heart is, how much she means to me, and how I will never, ever let her go.

Our eyes meet.

And she bursts into tears.