Executive Protection(67)

He moved to face her. “And we may not go our separate ways.”

Facing him, she sipped, her clever eyes making him feel as if she was way ahead of him. “You have it in your head that no relationship lasts, so one of us will initiate the separation. It will just be a question of time. Months. Years. But it will come.”

He did believe that, but only because he didn’t believe he’d find the real thing, the genuine article. True love. Plenty of people took chances on it, but very few found it. That was just reality. And he was very much a realist. He wouldn’t be a crime scene investigator if he weren’t. Having hope that everything would be all right in his line of work was dangerous. Everything was not all right if he was needed. If he was called to a scene, it meant someone had been gravely hurt or killed. Not all right. No fantasy there. Only reality.

“No marriage. No kids,” he said. She had to understand that’s the way he intended to live before any intimacy continued.

If that angered her, she covered it well. Putting her wineglass down on the credenza behind one side of the sectional, she went to him and slid her hands up his chest. With her body pressed to his, she tipped her head back.

“You can have this weekend,” she murmured. “After that, you can’t have me anymore unless you can be with me unconditionally.”

With no conditions placed upon her that she could expect no marriage and no children with him. He inwardly went cold. Unconditional meant he had to be open to marriage and children with her—if their relationship progressed to that point. He could agree and still never marry her or have kids with her, but that would be dishonest and cruel. If he couldn’t be open to giving her all she needed, then he shouldn’t be with her at all.

Rising up onto her toes, she put her lips to his, eyes open and full of sultry shrewdness. “One weekend.”

“Lucy...” She flipped on a sexual switch in him.

“After that, it ends unless there are no conditions,” she insisted. “You don’t have to decide now. You can decide when we get back to the estate. No conditions. You put aside your doomsday attitude and accept what we have, as is. No projections of the future, marriage or no marriage, children or no children.”

He loved that she’d used the word doomsday, and then not. She had him figured out and that unnerved him. Why was she giving him the weekend? To cast a spell on him? She’d already begun to do that.

“And if the relationship progresses to something serious enough to move in together, what then?” he asked.

“You have to be open to marrying me. Someday. I require marriage. If not with you, then someone.”

“You’re asking me to change the way I view marriage.”

“Yes. I am.”

He wasn’t sure he could do that. A haunting voice inside his head echoed, Yet. She eased away from him, and he thought she’d changed her mind. But instead, she lifted her shirt off and dropped it to the floor. “This weekend and then we decide what to do from there.” She removed her bra and it fell on top of her shirt. “Agreed?”

Thad stared at her hard nipples, perched on round, creamy flesh that begged to be touched with his mouth. “Agreed.”

Smiling her victory, Lucy removed her jeans in a striptease, slowly inching them down over her hips, lifting one slender leg out of one side, and then the other. Her underwear came next.

He put down his tumbler and went to her. Taking her against him, he kissed her. She lifted one leg beside his still fully clothed side. He ran his hands down her body, over her rear. Both of them kissed each other, seeking, hungry for more. She unbuttoned his thin flannel shirt and spread her hands on his chest. He shrugged out of the shirt.

Lucy planted wet kisses all over his chest. He watched her as he unbuttoned his jeans. She crouched and took over removing his pants, his erection jutting free. Both naked now, Thad held her against him for a long, deep kiss. All that mattered was her. This. Getting inside her.

Lifting her so that she wrapped her legs around him, he walked around the sectional, Lucy still kissing him, her hands on each side of his face. There were two leaf-yellow leather ottomans centered between the section and two multicolored striped chairs. Any flat surface would do.

He lowered her onto them, making sure her butt was on the edge. Then he braced himself by his hands on either side of her and his feet on the wood floor. She opened her legs. The sight made him groan and he couldn’t prolong the penetration. Muscles straining, he sank deep into her. She held on to his biceps as he thrust back and forth. He sucked her breasts and then rose up to look at her, at their joining. It was strenuous work maintaining this position, but the angle was gripping.

Beneath him, Lucy arched and met his hips with hers. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Wind spattered wet, heavy snow against the windows. Soft music played along with their breathing.

Putting his weight on her, he pumped into her, grabbing the end of the ottoman to leverage harder thrusts. He found her G-spot that way. She rasped ecstatic moans that escalated to a shout. He kissed her to keep her quieter, feeling her body tremble in orgasm.

With her limp and satisfied, he coaxed her up off the ottoman. She wrapped her arms around him, demanding a kiss. He gave her a deep one before turning her to face the ottoman.

“Get down onto it,” he said gruffly.

Finally, she understood he wanted her on her hands and knees on the two big, square ottomans. Kneeling between her legs from behind, he held her hips and probed her opening, sliding in smooth and slick. Holding her hips still, he thrust deep and slow at first, until he heard her respond, aroused again. Then he thrust in hard. Pulled back. Thrust in hard again. Faster and faster. Skin slapped skin.