Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(26)

She brought her hand up, needing to touch him, to feel that scruff under her skin. “Yes.”

A fond memory, something she could take with her. That didn’t sound bad. They were two adults who knew they would go their separate ways, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other while they were together.

“I’m glad because I don’t think I could walk away now.” He started for her bedroom.

Lisa hoped the night never ended.





He’d been honest with her and she’d said yes. He wasn’t thinking about anything else tonight. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that he was her hired bodyguard and she didn’t know it. That was a separate thing altogether and had nothing to do with his relationship with her beyond the fact that it gave him access and another level to protect her.

He eased her down on the bed and then reached back to pull his shirt over his head. What a complete moron he’d been, but then it wasn’t surprising. He was the kind of man who saw something that looked like it was too good to be true and decided it was. He hadn’t even given her a chance and he was going to make up for that now. He was going to take care of her in every way he could until he had to leave her.

He shoved that thought aside as quickly as he did his jeans. He was desperate. Fucking desperate. He hadn’t felt this hot for a woman since he’d been a horny teen.

Lisa moved back on the bed, settling herself against the headboard.

“Knees up, feet flat on the mattress, and get them nice and wide for me.” The order came out on a low growl that might have scared some women.

Not her. She bit her bottom lip and slowly complied, letting him watch as she spread herself open for him. That was what he wanted. She was a princess. It didn’t matter that she’d grown up poor. There was something about Lisa Daley that would always remind him of a spritely fairy princess. Perhaps it was the light in her eyes or the air of mischief that followed her around, but he could see her with a delicate crown on her head, waving to her adoring subjects.

And then submitting sweetly to her lover when the doors were closed.

He stalked to the end of the bed, watching her. Even in the low light from the lamp on her bedside table, he could see how wet she was, how that pretty pussy glistened. He breathed in her arousal, so much sweeter than any other smell.

That was all for him. Perhaps he’d made a mistake by not taking a submissive. Only now did he feel how hollow his other relationships had been. There had been a power exchange, but it hadn’t lasted more than a night. He would sign a contract with this woman. She would be his. His to fuck and play with. His to take care of. His responsibility.

He was surprised those last two words didn’t scare him in the least. The real revelation was how much he craved that responsibility when it came to her. Now that he understood who she was, where she’d come from, he intended to make these weeks with her special so she would know what she deserved from a man, to ensure she wouldn’t accept less ever again.

She was staring at him, her eyes boldly on his cock. He stroked himself, taking a moment so he didn’t simply fall on her and fuck her senseless. He wanted this to last, to make this first night something she wouldn’t forget.

Or maybe he wanted to make it so good she wouldn’t kick him out in the morning when she realized he had no intentions of keeping this relationship to the bedroom. How would she handle it when she found out exactly how in control he meant to be with her?

“Tu es la plus belle des femmes,” he said slowly as he moved on to the bed with her.

“The French stuff gets to me, Sir.”

Yes, he could tell. He’d always used the fact that his mom-mom considered English a barbaric language in his favor when it came to the fairer sex.

“It means you’re the most beautiful woman,” he translated as he moved between her legs, his palms on her knees. “It sounds better in French.”

She reached up to him, as though asking for his weight. “And the other? That thing you call me. Ma crevitte?”

“Ma crevette,” he corrected with a grin. He could feel the heat of her core against his cock. So much hotter than before. There was nothing between them, though there would be. He’d fished a condom out before he’d tossed his jeans aside. He leaned over, trapping her. “It’s a term of endearment. It means my little shrimp.”

“What?” Her eyes widened and she tried to push him off.

But that was why he’d trapped her. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her horror. He easily kept her where he wanted her and enjoyed how her struggles brought her pussy right where he needed it to be. “My pretty little shrimp. Well, you told me not to call you ma chère.”

She couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face. “That’s a terrible nickname. Shrimp?”

“We take shrimp seriously where I come from.” He kissed her forehead as he explained. “The whole of Papillon depends on shrimp, therefore calling you my beautiful little shrimp means you’re precious to me.”

“You are smooth, Guidry.” She stopped her playful struggles and her arms went around his neck. “A girl could get in trouble with you.”

“Or a woman could stay out of trouble by sticking close to me,” he replied, laying kisses across her cheek.

“I need something to call you. Is there a male version of my little shrimp?”