CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A SERIES OF kisses scattered around his mouth woke Striker, and he slowly opened his eyes. A deep, drugging rush of desire filled him when he met Margo’s gaze. He’d never been awakened quite like this and had no complaints.
He forced his gaze from hers to glance around the living room and saw the scattered clothing. His and hers. They’d never made it upstairs. After making love on the sofa a couple of times, they’d settled in with her stretched out on top of him. He’d grabbed a blanket from one of her closets to cover their nakedness from the cool temperature of the room.
“Good morning, Striker.”
She was smiling, and that combined with those kisses meant there were no morning-after regrets on her part. “Good morning, Margo.”
“I need to go to the bathroom, and your leg is holding me down,” she said, brushing another kiss across his lips.
“Oh.”
Their legs were entwined, so he shifted and released his leg’s hold on hers. As soon as he did, she got up, stretching her naked limbs before grabbing the blanket to wrap around her body.
“I’ll be back in a second, and when I return, be prepared to discuss why you thought it was okay to invade my privacy by bugging my room. I haven’t forgotten what you said last night about listening to me shower.”
That was not a conversation he wanted to have with her. Easing up, he looked at his watch. “Shit.” He hadn’t realized it was that late. When was the last time he had slept past eight in the morning? It didn’t matter that it had been close to five before they’d settled down to get some sleep. He needed to get a grip and keep in mind that he wasn’t here for a damn sleepover.
“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.
“To tell you something I found out about your ex-girlfriend.”
“Who? Margo?”
“Yes, that bitch, Margo.”
Scott knew Freddie was still angry that Margo had threatened them both with jail time unless they donated all that money to her favorite charity. Criminal records were the last thing they’d wanted or needed.
“What about her?”
“She played you, man.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t gotten over how she made us pay all that money to some damn charity. Who does that, man? Give that much money away? She must be somebody who had a lot to give away. That’s when I knew she had to be loaded and was just making those damn wedding gowns for the fun of it.”
Scott shook his head. “Freddie, what point are you trying to make?”
“I’m talking about the fact that Margo Connelly didn’t need your money like you thought. She was nothing more than a bored little rich broad who didn’t even have to work.”
“Where did you get a crazy idea like that from?”