Cavanaugh's Bodyguard (16 page)

Feel his hands, his torso, his desire.

So even as she shed her spectacular dress as well as its accessories, leaving articles discarded in a tangled, forgotten heap, she was yanking at his clothing as well. She was gratified as she felt him shaking free of his jacket, pulling away his shirt and then stepping out of his jeans, kicking everything aside so that the path was clear for them.

His body was hot as it pressed against hers.

As hot as his mouth, which was no longer sealed to hers but roaming along her throat, her shoulders, her neck, creating chaos and wild, thunderous desire with each pass that he made.

It was a night of revelations.

Just as she was convinced she’d reached the pinnacle of pulsating desire, he managed somehow to bring her up yet another notch.

Caught up in this tango they were dancing, a silent tango composed of throbbing rhythms she could feel within her body, Bridget suddenly stumbled, tripping backward. His arms immediately closed tightly around her, but instead of breaking her fall, Josh went down with her.

Down and twisting so that when they reached the floor a split second later, Bridget found herself on top of him.

The feel of his hardened body excited her, bringing her up to such a high plateau that she could scarcely catch her breath. And all the while, her heart pounded as his mouth continued to roam over the length of her. She could feel herself quivering against him.

Under oath Josh wouldn’t have been able to say just how this had come about or what had come over him. Yes, he’d been attracted to Bridget for a long time now and yes, he’d spent the evening keenly aware of her proximity, her scent, her very existence. But he’d always maintained control over himself, known how to keep both his temper and his desires in check under all circumstances.

So what had happened here?

How had this slip of a woman—a strong woman, granted, but still not his match in height and weight by any means—how had she managed to bring him down to his knees, destroying every last shred of his self-control while she was at it?

All
Josh could think of was how much he wanted her. How much he needed her.

Desired her.

He knew deep down in his gut that if he didn’t try to fill himself with her, he would cease to exist. Cease to be.

It was an absurd thought.

And yet, somehow he knew that it was true. That if he was to continue living a moment longer on this earth, it would take having her, making love with her, to sustain him.

The fact that Bridget didn’t attempt to resist, that she not only welcomed him but had been the one to instigate this crazed, fateful dance, only managed to urge him on further and more quickly.

He’d never kissed anyone who kissed him back with such ardor, such passion before. Never wanted anyone with such intense longing. It was more than a fever of the blood, it was bordering on insanity and as much as he absolutely hated the fact that he was being held prisoner by these feelings, that he had absolutely no free will when it came to his fate, he couldn’t seem to break free.

And after a few timeless minutes had faded from existence, he didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to be free of her or of this need for her. What he wanted, more than life itself—which truthfully scared him to no end—was to have her. To take her now and make her his alone.

Now.

No matter what the consequences.

With one calculated movement, he had Bridget under him.

Balancing his weight on his elbows and knees, the rest of his body so close to hers that boundaries between their two bodies were difficult to define, he framed her face with his hands.

“Look at me,” he ordered hoarsely, desire constricting his very throat. When she didn’t comply at first, he repeated the instruction more firmly, waiting for her to do it.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Bridget opened her eyes and met his.

There was no anger, no defiance, not even a look of submission in her eyes. Just challenge and desire. She felt the way he did.

It was all he needed to know.

With his eyes on hers Josh drove himself into her, making her his.

Making himself hers.

And then it began, the scrambling journey to the top, to take hold of the wondrous sensation that occurred when all inhibitions disappeared and two, however briefly, became one.

His arms tightened around her and he had to hold himself in check not to cause her any undue pain as the final moment swept them both breathlessly away.

Chapter 12

F
or several minutes there, as they lay on the floor side by side, Bridget was fairly convinced that she would never catch her breath again, that she would never move normally. Her heart beat so hard that she felt too weak even to get up, much less to walk and talk.

What had he done to her?

What had she
allowed
him to do to her?

Too exhausted to move, Bridget continued to lie there, with the back of her wrist pressed against her eyes, warding off not just the light streaming into her apartment through the kitchen window, courtesy of the full moon, but hopefully the immediate world as well.

Her dazed, chaotic mind searched madly for something coherent for her to say,
anything
that would sound neutral and innocuous so he wouldn’t know just how very deeply he’d shaken up her world.

Finally, desperate to bring an end to the silence and the sound of her own irregular breathing, Bridget muttered something, in hindsight, that she considered incredibly inane.

“I didn’t turn on the lights.”

“Yeah, you did,” she heard Josh say. Even without looking at him, she could “hear” the grin on his lips.

What the hell was he talking about? They’d all but fallen into the apartment, never once bothering to turn on any of the lights. At this point, she considered it lucky that they’d closed the door. Passion had completely knocked out any common sense that might have been lying around.

Confused, she lifted her wrist and opened her eyes to glance at him.

“You turned on a whole spectrum of lights,” he told her, then lightly tapped the center of his chest with his fisted hand. “Right in here. There were starbursts and even a mesmerizing light show.”

Was this actually Josh talking to her like this? Admitting to being moved? Or was he setting her up for some big payoff? Or maybe some big joke?

For as long as she’d known him, Josh had never bragged about his conquests, only about having stellar evenings—or entire weekends—and he’d always end his quick summation with a sensuous, amused grin.

But he never gave her any details—not that she’d ever asked.

She had to admit that she liked that about him, that he kept things like that and what went on behind closed doors between him and his myriad lady friends to himself. It told her that somewhere along the line, someone had made an effort to see that Josh grew up to be a gentleman.

A gentleman who could make the earth move.

Turning her head to look at Josh, and getting an extremely queasy feeling in her stomach as she did so—a good queasy feeling, she thought with an inward smile—Bridget asked, “Should I be checking your garage for a pod?”

“Don’t have a garage,” he told her, almost drawling. “Have a carport.” Like her, he lived in a garden apartment complex.

“Any pod left there would have been moved by the rental office,” she speculated, giddy and still far too tired to attempt to move.

And then she became aware that Josh had raised himself up on his elbow and was looking at her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so tired anymore. Feeling around on the floor, she searched for an article of clothing,
any
article of clothing larger than a handkerchief so that she could cover herself.

But there was nothing there except for the rug. Frustrated, she reached over her head and pulled down the seat cushion from the sofa and placed that on her body. It balanced precariously.

“Looking for a floatation device?” Josh asked, amused. “I don’t think the weather bureau predicted any flash flooding for the area.” He found her modesty almost sweet. And rather futile. Very gently, he tugged away the cushion. “You realize that’s like locking the barn door after the proverbial horses have run off.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t keep her from being stubborn. “It’s my barn door,” Bridget argued. “I can do with it whatever I want.”

“That it is,” he agreed. “And you can.” And then his smile turned from amused to sensual. “All I ask for is squatter’s rights.”

Bridget could feel warmth spreading throughout her entire body. The kind of warmth that promised to turn her a bright, bright shade of pink from her head to her toes. And he noticed the progression starting.

“Hey, Cavanaugh,” he said, calling attention to the color her skin was turning. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not,” she bit off.

He was going to make her pay for this occasion of weakness, wasn’t he? This was a mistake, a damn mistake. Why hadn’t she stopped herself while she still had a chance?

Because she’d wanted it too much. And now she was going to pay for it, Bridget thought, trying to resign herself to her fate.

“Okay,” he allowed, “then you must be lying on something very hot because you’re turning a shade of pink I’ve only seen on preteens and salmon steaks while they’re being grilled. The salmon, not the preteens,” he added with a widening grin.

He was laughing at her, she thought angrily. Sitting up, Bridget scanned the immediate area, looking for her dress. Why hadn’t she been more careful when she’d done her frenzied striptease and taken note where she’d dropped her clothes?

Suddenly spotting her dress, Bridget made a dive for it.

Unfortunately, she had to turn her back on Josh to do it and he found that the view succeeded in arousing him all over again. His partner, he thought not for the first time, was one fine-looking woman.

“If you don’t want to turn me on, Cavanaugh, I suggest you find yourself a blanket and wrap yourself up in it
now
.” He stressed the last word, conveying a sense of urgency to her. He wasn’t about to take advantage of her, but what he did want to do was to seduce her into doing what they’d just done all over again.

Holding the dress, rather than slipping it on and having it reveal more than it hid—since she had no undergarments on—Bridget held it up against her as she turned around again to look at him.

“You’re telling me I’m turning you on?” she asked incredulously. The Josh she knew would have
never
admitted to something like that. It completely went against his love-’em-and-leave-’em facade. Just who
was
this man she’d just made love with?

“Right now, Cavanaugh, you could turn on a rock. A petrified rock.”

She didn’t want him to see how much his words affected her. She wasn’t nearly as experienced as he was—who was?—but she wasn’t exactly a babe in the woods, either. The last thing she wanted was to hear Josh gloating that she’d been moved by his compliment. She did her best to appear unaffected and blasé.

“Does that line usually work for you?” she asked him, a smirk on her lips.

“Work for me?” he repeated as if he didn’t quite follow her.

“Does it get you ‘repeat business’?” she stressed. When he still didn’t seem to get it, she elaborated even further. “The women you make love with, does saying that line to them have them suddenly desperate to do it all over again?”

“It’s not words that they’re after,” he told her evenly, his meaning clear.

He was telling her the reason the sexual partners he’d had were so eager to make love with him again was because of his technique, not his words. He really had made the earth move, but she would die before ever telling him that.

His eyes seemed full of sensual mischief as he tugged her back down to him. “So, how about those 49ers?” he teased, referring to the San Francisco football team.

“You’ll have to ask Logan,” she said, bringing up the name of one of her brothers. “He’s the resident expert on football.”

The sensual smile still very present on his lips, Josh ran his fingertips over her mouth. “And what are you an expert on?”

“I haven’t picked an area of expertise yet. When I do, I’ll let you know.”

Her eyes fluttered shut almost involuntarily as she felt Josh sensually brush his lips—just the slightest point of contact—against her shoulder. Even that fleeting touch sent goose bumps racing up and down her spine.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that, Youngblood,” Bridget said. It took effort to squeeze the words out evenly.

He drew his head back a little, as if studying her. “Nope, you don’t mean that,” he told her simply.

Her back went up. No, she didn’t mean that, but he was being just a little too cocky for her taste. “Why? Because you’re so damned irresistible?”

Lucky for her he liked feisty women, Josh thought. The more she resisted, the more she aroused and interested him.

“No,” he told her very simply. “Because you’re crinkling your nose. You always crinkle your nose when you’re lying. It’s your ‘tell.’”

“You studied my face?” she asked in disbelief, stunned.

“Among other interesting parts,” he said, unable to resist giving her a leer. “I like knowing my partner inside and out.”

She just bet he did. Bridget raised her chin defiantly. “There’s such a thing as too much information, you know.”

“Maybe.” His smile went straight into her nervous system, causing an instant upheaval. “But not in this case.”

Leaning down over her, Josh kissed her. Not passionately the way he had in response to her first kiss earlier, but with small, soft kisses landing gently on her lips like the first spring butterfly delicately perching on a rose petal just before it flew off.

If possible, this had an even greater effect on her than his passionate kiss had. She could feel her very core igniting as desire galloped through her even
more
urgently than the first time. Surrendering, giving up all resistance to this man, she reached for him.