Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(48)

“We need to get a move on and get dressed. Quasar will be arriving with breakfast shortly.”

When she dashed out of the living room to use the bathroom, Striker rubbed his face and inwardly cursed himself out. He’d let his guard down and crossed the line with a client. But not with any client. His boss’s niece. He’d known better, yet he’d done it anyway. A sexual attraction between a man and woman was healthy. But this particular attraction could get them both killed if he didn’t stay on top of things.

He quickly stood, reached for his clothes and began putting them on. His gun and holster were a glaring reminder of why he was here.

His cell phone rang. “Yeah, Quasar?”

“Anything special the two of you want for breakfast this morning?”

“No. The usual is fine, but hold off coming for another hour.”

“Why?”

“We’re just getting up.”

“Oh, I see.”

Striker didn’t like the sound of that but decided not to ask his friend to elaborate. “I’ll see you when you get here.” Clicking off the phone, he contemplated a shave and a shower.

“I’m back.”

He glanced over at Margo as he strapped on his Beretta and holster. She was standing there wrapped in a blanket that really wasn’t covering much of her naked body. “I just talked to Quasar. He’s going to give us time to shower and dress before coming with breakfast.”

“Good. I’m hungry.”

He watched her discard the blanket as she picked up her clothes. Since he’d become Margo’s protector, getting an erection was one of his prominent pastimes. And now that he had firsthand knowledge of how it felt to be inside that body and just how that body tasted, he could see himself staying hard. Forcing his gaze off her, he knew he had a problem. A definite problem.

“So is my bedroom really bugged, or were you just joking about that?”

He hadn’t been joking, but now was not the time to have that conversation. He figured she would be royally pissed about it. “We can’t discuss this now, Margo. An hour will be up before you know it.”

“Fine. Just don’t think I’m going to forget about it.”

“Whatever,” he said. Her hair was mussed. Why did he like it that way?

“I’m ready to go upstairs now, Striker.”

Could the reason he liked her hair be his recollection of riding her hard while running his hands through it, tightening his hold on a few locks?

“Striker?”

He blinked. “Yes?”

“I said, I’m ready to go upstairs now.”

“Oh, okay.” It was his routine to precede her wherever she went for safety measures. Damn, he needed to stay focused and accept that for him and Margo there couldn’t be any more make-out sessions. Somehow they needed to get their footing back on level ground and remember the reason his presence was required in the first place. He was here to protect her. He wouldn’t fail her like he’d done with Wade. That meant during breakfast they needed to have a real serious talk. And during that conversation he would admit to bugging her room. He was well aware there was a pretty good chance all hell would break loose with that confession.

She followed behind him as he moved up the stairs. “How long will it take for you to finish showering and dressing?” he asked when they reached the landing.

Easing up close to him, she said in a flirty voice, “It depends on whether or not you plan to join me, Striker.”

Why did she have to go there and make his already aroused body even more stimulated? Her words alone could stroke him, make him fantasize about sharing a shower with her. He had to hold tight to what little control he had left. It might be a good idea to get Quasar to cover for him while he took a few days off. He needed space from Margo to get his mind back under control and hope that his body would follow suit.

“I got a few calls to make.”

“Oh.”

He tried not to notice the disappointment in her eyes. “I’ll be standing right here when you’re finished.”

*

SCOTT DYLAN CLOSED the door behind the woman he let out of his house. She’d shown up last night for a booty call, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. But now with the early morning and the presence of a new day, he was still angry about his phone conversation last night with Margo.

He was about to go into his kitchen when his cell phone rang. Picking it up off the table, he already knew who it was. Freddie Siskin, his roommate from college. “What the hell do you want, Freddie?”

“I dropped by early this morning and saw Wanda’s car. She’s a pretty good lay and gives damn good blow jobs, so why are you in a bad mood?”

Freddie was right. Wanda did give good blow jobs, and Freddie probably knew that firsthand. Wanda got around. It didn’t bother him. She’d gotten what she’d come for, and he’d made sure he’d gotten what he wanted.

“Why were you dropping by?” Scott had heard Freddie had gotten laid off from his job at the bank. He hoped Freddie wasn’t trying to hit him up for a loan. He and Freddie hadn’t been the best of friends since that stunt he’d pulled with Margo involving those snakes. And then Freddie’s lie to that FBI agent that Scott had known about it had prompted Scott to cool his friendship with Freddie.