The Protected

His long, lean form, so strong, so warm. His hand curved over the swell of her hip, and as she lay there, his fingers spread wide, for just a minute, as though he was learning the feel of her. She wanted to do the very same thing to him, spread her hands open and learn every damn inch of his body.

She caught her breath, remembering what he’d told her.

But instead of him rolling her onto her back, when he moved, it was to pull away.

“We need to get on the road,” he said, his voice level. Emotionless.

She sat up, staring at his naked back. “The road?” she echoed. What had happened to all his talk about getting her naked? Getting inside her again?

“Yes. I have to make a few calls about getting us across the border.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I take it you didn’t bring your passport?”

“Actually, I do have it.” Although illegally entering a country was probably going to be the least of her crimes by the time this was all said and done. And just what had happened to getting her naked? She stared at him a minute longer, but all he did was shift off the bed, crouching by the bag he’d left on the floor.

And that was it. Watching his bowed head, she realized his mind was already on other things. Fine. I’m not going to let him see I’m put out over this. I’m not. And I’m not put out by it. I’m . . .

Climbing out of bed, she headed to the minuscule bathroom and locked herself inside.

Oh, the hell I’m not.

Emotion tangled inside her, too complicated to really put her finger on. Hurt? Yeah. There was some of that, for certain. Bruised pride? Maybe a little. Okay, more than a little. It was arousing, knowing somebody wanted you. Really wanted you . . . and then to have him not want you? It was a punch in the gut. The hurt and bruised pride twisted in her, but it went deeper than that. She couldn’t even figure out everything she felt, either.

Disappointment seemed like such a minor word for the empty ache she felt inside. It went too deep for just mere disappointment.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. Squaring her shoulders, she made herself stare at her reflection. She looked sad and miserable and lost, like a girl who’d been stood up by the cute guy in high school.

That wasn’t going to cut it. She had a job to do, and it was going to get ugly before it got better. Hell, it might not get better for her. She’d already acknowledged that fact. But if she walked into this looking like a whipped puppy, then it was just going to snowball into one hell of a bad mess, and that, she did not need.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved everything aside. So Gus didn’t seem to want her the way he’d made her think. In the end, that didn’t matter. Not to the job, at least, and the job was why she was here. The job and only the job. Having the hot and sexy Gus along the wayside had been both a bonus and a complication, but in the end, he wasn’t the focus.

Alex was.

She’d been sent to Orlando to watch over a kid.

Somebody else was taking point on that job now, but that didn’t mean she was done. Her current objective was to keep that kid safe, and the threat to him had grown exponentially. She had to get her game on and stay focused.

With that in mind, she turned away from the mirror and stripped out of her clothes. She needed to shower and clear her head. She needed coffee, but they’d grab that on the road.

Game on, she told herself as she climbed under the miserable, stingy spray. Game on.

* * *

THE woman who ducked into the bathroom had been quiet, somber, and he couldn’t help but think he’d hurt her. He wouldn’t let that get to him. He was used to hurting women. Not physically, but when the job included assignments like seduction and espionage, people did end up with their feelings bruised, their pride.

It wasn’t so easy to shrug it off when the woman was Vaughnne, and he told himself that maybe he’d misunderstood her. After all, she’d told him he was arrogant, had mouthed off to him before they fell asleep. He was just respecting her wishes, really.

The door to the bathroom opened and the woman came striding out, wearing nothing but a bath towel, her hair pulled back and away from her face. Her eyes cut to his, and any sign of sadness or pain was completely gone.

She looked arrogant now. Arrogant, aloof, and the light in her eyes was one of warning.

He stood by the door, waiting, watching.

And damn near swallowed his tongue as she stood in front of the neat little stack of clothes and dropped her towel.

Beads of water still clung to her shoulders, rolled down the slope of her breast as she grabbed a pair of panties. Black. It seemed black and white were her preferred colors in wardrobe choices, so that was all he’d grabbed for her, but he would love to see her in red silk. Blue satin. Emerald green. Anything. Everything. Nothing.

His heart slammed against his ribs as she pulled the panties up over the taut, round curve of her ass. Then she shot him a dark look. “If we need to get on the road, don’t you think you should get ready?”

Ready? If he were any readier, he might die of a heart attack.

She stared at him for a moment and then looked away, that disdainful expression still on her face. She reached for her bra and he locked his gaze on her breasts, memorized those curves for the few brief moments he had left to him. Perfect, he decided. Just about perfect. Full enough for his hands, nothing more and nothing less, her skin that soft, warm brown, and her nipples were a deeper, darker shade. Puckered, and tight, too.

?Que carajo? What was he doing? She wanted him. He wanted her. Saving her . . . from what? Himself? She’d said a hundred times if she’d wanted to leave, she’d do just that. And if she tried, he’d let her. He’d already decided that. Because he didn’t need the assurance that she’d look after Alejandro. She would already do it. That was just who she was.

So what or who was he trying to save her from?

He dropped the bag he was holding.

Vaughnne shot him another dark look as she reached for a shirt. “You know, if you’d wanted to stare at my tits, you should have done something about it earlier. We need to get going, right?”

Closing the distance between them, he caught the lapels of the black shirt before she could start to button it up. “It can wait,” he said gruffly. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to the curve between her neck and shoulder.

Vaughnne stiffened.

He breathed in the scent of her skin, warm and soft, smelling of the lousy soap the hotel had provided, and something else . . . female, unique to her. The lotion she slicked on her skin, maybe. He didn’t know, but the scent was enough to drive him mad. Raking his teeth along her skin, he caught the collar of her shirt and dragged it down.

She shoved her hands between them. “Hold on there, pal,” she said, her lip curling.

He lifted a hand and cupped her face, dragging his thumb across her mouth, watching as hunger danced in her gaze even as she edged backward.

“I’m not a plaything.” She glared at him. “Hot little pillow talk last night, and then this morning, it’s all serious shit, but five seconds later, you want to put your hands on me again? I don’t do this hot and cold stuff, Gus.”

“Gustavo.” He leaned in, flicking his tongue across her lower lip.

She tensed. “What?”

“My name. It’s Gustavo. And I always want to put my hands on you, Vaughnne,” he whispered, teasing the entrance to her mouth, but she still wouldn’t open for him. “But last night, you talked as though that wasn’t what you wanted. I thought perhaps I’d respect your wishes . . . for once.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, some of the tension eased from her body. “You were trying to play the nice