Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(58)

Surprisingly, the possibility of Roland figuring things out didn’t bother Striker. Although there was no set policy about getting involved with a client, Roland would expect him to use his best judgment in such matters. Given the degree of danger surrounding Margo’s situation, Striker knew his mind should be focused on keeping her safe and not having sex with her. But some things couldn’t be helped and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried resisting temptation. The attraction between them had been too strong not to give in to it. It was either that or they’d have eventually driven themselves crazy with lust.

Sometimes “one and done” was the best rule. However, with them it hadn’t been a rule he’d stuck to...considering what had happened in her shower this morning. The memory of him taking her there made his erection swell. And each time she’d screamed his name had made him want to thrust into her even more. Made him want to brand her as his.

Damn it to hell. How could he even think of something like that? He didn’t want to brand any woman. All he’d ever wanted was a good roll between the sheets with one. Yet, with Margo, things weren’t the norm.

He couldn’t fight this ache he was feeling for her. Nor could he deny that he wanted her even now—hell, even while sitting across from her at the kitchen table with her uncles. He’d studied her whenever she’d talked. More than once he’d caught his gaze lingering on her mouth, as he remembered how sweet it had tasted. Then his eyes had drifted to her chest, as he’d recalled how he’d sucked on her nipples. He doubted Frazier had noticed him staring, but he would be surprised if Roland hadn’t.

Her frustrated sigh recaptured his attention, and he rubbed his cheek again. They had been sharing space long enough for him to know whenever something was bothering her. He should let it go and let her deal with it on her own, but for him that was easier said than done. “Do you want to talk about it, Margo?”

“About what?”

“Whatever is bothering you.”

She paused and looked over at him, and the eyes staring back at him were soft yet troubled. He slowly crossed the room, took the garbage bag out of her hand and pulled her into his arms.

To hold her. To protect her.

At that moment Striker knew he was asking for trouble because he liked holding her too damn much. And he liked making love to her even more. Why hadn’t he told Roland that someone else needed to protect her from here on out? Because he couldn’t do that. And then she’d made it clear she wanted him to protect her if she was relocated elsewhere. Knowing she was willing to put her life in his hands had done something to him. It was still doing something to him.

There were times when a man had to do what he felt in his gut that he had to do. Even if that gut was filled with a need and desire that could render his senses off kilter. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Talk about what? The fact that I have to leave my home and go into hiding to heaven-knows-where, or the fact that I discovered today that I have an uncle that I didn’t know about.”

He would listen to anything she needed to get off her chest. Since she’d asked, he decided discussing the issue of her uncles could prove more positive for her in the long run. And he wanted her to have a positive outlook. “Is having another uncle such a bad thing?”

“Of course not,” she said, as if surprised by his question. “Uncle Frazier took my father’s death hard, and I wish he could have shared that grief with my uncle Roland.”

Her uncle Roland. It still amazed Striker just how accepting she was of Roland’s place in her life. There were a number of things she didn’t know yet; one was Roland’s suspicion that the fire that had killed her parents had been deliberate. “Thanks to you, Margo, the healing between Frazier and Roland has started to take place, and that’s a good thing.”

She appeared to think about what he’d said for a minute and then asked, “You knew, didn’t you? That they were brothers.”

Standing so close to her like this had his erection throbbing. An erection she had to feel—there was no way she couldn’t. Instead of taking a step back, he tightened his arms around her and brought her closer. “Yes, I knew. Roland told me everything before I took this job.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” she said accusingly.

“I had no reason to tell you. You were just a job.”

She stared at him, and he wondered what she saw in his eyes that made her ask her next question. “And now? Am I just a job, Striker?”

He could say yes, that was all she was and that sleeping with her, being inside her body, learning her intimate taste, meant nothing. That she was no different than any other woman he’d had sex with. But he knew that would be a bald-faced lie. It was different with her. Although he didn’t want to dwell on what that difference was, it was there.

So he decided to be honest. “No, you’re not just a job, Margo. Not anymore. You are more than that.”

And because he knew how her mind worked, was familiar with those nosy bones in her body, before she could ask he said, “And the reason I don’t see you as just a job is because last night was a game changer. I’ve gotten to know you.” Boy, have I gotten to know you. “Now you’re also a woman I want.” There, he’d said it. She knew where he stood.