Leader Lion (Protection, Inc 5)

Rafa

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Rafa arrived at the theatre well before the rehearsal was scheduled to begin. He’d meant to wait in the parking lot until Grace arrived, then escort her inside. But when he pulled up, he saw that her car was already there.

He hurried inside, his heart pounding. He shouldn’t have assumed anything about what time she’d arrive; he should have asked for her plans, then arranged for them to meet. He hated the thought of her being alone in the theatre. Or, worse, not alone.

“Grace!” His shout echoed in the empty theatre, amplified by the high ceilings.

“Hey, Rafa.” Grace’s voice also echoed; he couldn’t place where it was coming from.

Then a familiar head of purple hair rose up from the floor, soon followed by the rest of her as she climbed out of the trap door. Rafa ran to greet her. He took a moment to enjoy her outfit of the day—a black beret, an oversize black sweatshirt with a geometric pink pattern, a black lace skirt, sky-blue socks, and black platform boots—before he swept her up in his arms.

“You look great,” he said.

“So do you,” she replied. “So don’t take this as a complaint, just as curiosity. Do you ever wear anything but jeans and a T-shirt? I mean, they’re very nice jeans and T-shirts, but...”

“Why, do you want to give me a makeover?” Rafa returned. “Tonight I’m taking you to one of the best restaurants in Santa Martina, so I could wear a suit. That is, if it goes with what you’re wearing. If you want to stay in this, probably I should stay in mine, so we’ll match. Sort of.”

She gave him a speculative look, as if she was mentally dressing him up. “Hmm. I think I’ll change into something more conservative. I bet you look good in a suit.”

You look like the king of the urban jungle, his lion assured him.

“When you see me in it, you’ll have to tell me if I do or not.” He took Melissa’s pants, the bottle of vanilla, and the nanny cam out of a bag. “The pants were scented, all right. With vanilla, of all things. I hope Ruth brings the rat back. If she does, we can see if it was trained to go to anything that smells like vanilla.”

Grace sniffed the pants. “I still don’t smell anything. Did you take them to the lab?”

Don’t lie to your mate, growled his lion.

Just one tiny little one, Rafa thought uncomfortably. After tonight, I’ll never lie again.

“Uh... yes.” Well, he could hardly say he’d had his teammate smell them. But he still felt guilty. He hefted the nanny cam. “I’ll set this up now.”

“Need any help?”

“No,” he began, then realized that he probably did. “Actually, yes. Come with me and make sure I’m not putting it where it’ll get lit up or cast a shadow during the show.”

They went backstage, where she directed him in setting up the concealed nanny cam. He put the monitor in her booth, where he or she could check it periodically during rehearsals and watch it constantly once the show opened. Though he hoped he’d catch the saboteur before then.

She stayed backstage so he could make sure it was working. He sat in her chair in front of the light board and watched the monitor as she wandered about backstage, straightening props and checking the flying wires. The nanny cam was working perfectly. He was about to leave it and come down when he saw her stop and look straight into the camera. Her expression sent all the blood in his body rushing into his cock—and that was before she leaned over, reached under her skirt, and pulled off her panties.

He was torn between leaping up and rushing backstage, and staying where he was so he wouldn’t miss a thing. Paralyzed by those choices, he remained in the chair as if he was glued to it, watching on the monitor as she slowly removed her boots and socks. The boots had so many buckles and zips that it took a while before both of her feet were bare.

She had the daintiest little feet. Rafa wanted to kiss them.

The beret followed. Then the sweatshirt. This time she was wearing a sexy bra, a scrap of black lace fine as a wisp. She stood still for a moment, letting him get a good look at her luscious breasts nearly overflowing from the bra, before she unsnapped it and lifted it from her shoulders.

There she was, naked from the waist up, barefoot, wearing nothing but the lace skirt. Which, he remembered, had nothing underneath it.

And then she took off the skirt.

Blood thundered in Rafa’s ears. He’d never seen anything so hot in his entire life. It wasn’t just the strip tease, though that was incredibly hot. It was her daring. Her inventiveness. Her desire to please him. Her desire. She wasn’t a shifter but she was wild enough to stalk the savannah, a bold woman who saw what she wanted and grabbed it in both hands.

Rafa took one last, long look through the monitor, then jumped up. He banged his head hard on the low ceiling, but he didn’t give a damn. He had to get down there to his mate. It was killing him that he wasn’t touching her already.

How he managed to get down the ladder rather than just leaping off the edge, he didn’t know. He scrambled down in record time, then bolted backstage.

She was still standing there, alone amongst the Mars rocks and tables of props and racks of costumes. Naked. Her nipples were brown-pink and fully erect, and he thought he could catch a glimpse of glistening wetness between her thighs.

“Took you long enough,” she remarked. But though her tone was light, he caught the huskiness in her voice. She was having trouble controlling herself, too.

He bent her back and kissed her hungrily, his hands roaming over her curves. She responded with passion, her hot tongue stroking his. He could feel her breasts heaving against his chest, the hard nubs of her nipples pressing through the thin cloth of his shirt. Her scent of some light perfume and her own arousal surrounded him.

Some distant part of his mind wondered if she’d locked the doors or if anyone might come in at any moment and catch them. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop kissing her for long enough to ask. She was writhing against him, her hands clutching at him under his shirt. He was so turned on, he couldn’t think of anything but the caress of her hands, the soft warmth of her skin.

He wanted to bury himself inside her, right now. But he wanted to make her come, right now, even more. He had to feel her arch and hear her cry out, and to know he was the one giving her that irresistible, almost unbearable pleasure.

Rafa dropped his hand down, pushing it between the pillowy curves of her thighs. She shifted her weight, opening herself to him. His fingers touched liquid heat and petaled folds. She moaned into his mouth as he sought out her clit, and gasped as he found it. The tiny button was swollen with arousal and, he could tell by her reactions, exquisitely sensitive. Her slick juices ran over his fingers as he played with it and in the responsive areas around it, and the musky scent of her increased.

He loved feeling her tremble and stiffen in his arms as he sought out the height of her pleasure. Some other time, he’d prolong it. But now, as she thrust herself into his hand, he couldn’t hold back. Her walls clenched around his fingers as she came with a shuddering cry.

Grace relaxed, seeming to melt into his arms. She seemed satisfied. But Rafa wasn’t. And not just because he hadn’t come yet. Her striptease had been so exciting and erotic, he wanted to give her something as thrilling in return. He waited till her breathing and heartbeat steadied and she was standing by herself, then dropped to his knees before her.

He glanced up and saw her gorgeous brown eyes widen.

“Really?” Grace’s voice was beyond husky and into rough. He loved the sound of it. That was how far he’d brought her. “You’re gonna go there?”

“Don’t you like it?” he asked.

“Oh, I like it!” Grace said, and he could hear how much she meant it. “I just thought—I mean, you haven’t—”

“I’ll get mine. Later. This is for you.”

“Oh, just for me, is it?” A teasing note lightened her voice. “You’re not getting anything out of it yourself?”

This close, her scent was overwhelming. It made his head swim. “Maybe a little bit. But I’ll try really hard not to let it get to me. Don’t want to come in my pants or anything.”

“You try hard, then.” But when he bent his head, she held up a hand to stop him. “Wait. Give me a second to take a mental picture. You look really good down on your knees. Your shoulders—your hair—me naked and you still dressed—”

She shook her head, clearly running out of words. Rafa smiled. He’d thought she’d like that. And if she liked just looking that much, how much pleasure would she get once he really got going?

“Okay,” she said at last. “Go for it.”

Rafa once again bent her head, and this time he tasted her. He felt as well as heard her sharp inhale, tasted the sweet tang of her, felt her folds part beneath his questing tongue. The muscles in her thighs jumped as he breathed out over her sensitive clit, then gave it the most delicate of licks.

“Oh, God!” Grace gasped.

Her hands came down on his shoulders and gripped him tight. He let their pressure tell him whether to go light or hard, gentle or forceful, when to stop and press a kiss into her inner thigh, and when to bend to her once again. Her excitement delighted him. He loved sensuality, loved sex and his mate’s body, loved giving and getting sexual pleasure, loved thinking up ways to thrill his mate. And now he had a mate who clearly loved all those things just as much as he did.

He loved her—loved her so much that it made his heart seem to swell inside his chest.

She was gasping steadily, her pulse throbbing, her walls beginning to contract. He closed his lips over her clit and sucked gently, and she writhed against him and let out a short, sharp scream as she came.

He stood quickly so he could wrap his arms around her and let her rest her head against his shoulder.

“Wow,” she murmured after a while. “You are incredible.”

“So are you,” he replied. Then he suddenly remembered something. “Did you lock the doors?”

That question jarred her out of her dreamy post-orgasmic haze. “Yeah, but Carl and Lubomir have keys.” She glanced around the theatre, then pointed. “There. That closet.”

They stumbled into it. The closet was fairly roomy, as far as closets go, but Rafa was big enough that it was still a tight fit.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’m not sure I’ll have enough room to get undressed once you close the door.”

He was far too desperate to bother stripping down in the sensual way that she had done for him. He took off his belt and holster and laid them aside, then kicked off his shoes and roughly hauled off his pants and shirt, only pausing to yank a condom out of his pocket. Within seconds, he was as naked as his mate.

She rolled the condom on. The touch of her fingers made him start and gasp. Even the lightest pressure felt almost unbearably intense.

“Now you know how I felt,” Grace remarked.

She slammed the door, leaving them pressed together in the heated dark. Even with his sharp lion’s vision, he could see nothing. He had only his other senses: hearing, scent, smell, touch. The lack of sight heightened them to an incredible intensity. He could hear and feel even the slightest movements she made. Her enticing scent surrounded him. He could still taste her. It drove him wild.

Rafa linked his hands beneath her hips and scooped her up. He didn’t need her excited whisper of “Go on” to know she was ready. With a single thrust, he sank himself deep within her.

Nothing had ever felt as good as sheathing himself in her tight wet heat. He felt half-mad with pleasure as he drove into her in a hard, fast, powerful rhythm. Though he couldn’t see her, he could hear her gasps and feel her legs wrapping tight around his back, and he knew she too was being carried toward an unstoppable climax.

It was pitch black inside the closet, but his orgasm made him see stars.

He had to brace himself to keep standing; he felt weak at the knees. More than that, he had to bite his tongue not to say, “I love you.”

Say it, growled his lion.

Not yet, Rafa silently replied. When the time is right.

He set her down. They leaned against each other, panting and sweaty and satisfied.

“What time is it?” Rafa asked.

“No idea,” Grace said dreamily. “But we should have time to get dressed before anyone else shows up. Probably.”

“Who’s the usual early bird?”

“Might be Lubomir. But it’s usually Carl.”

How embarrassing and awkward for Grace if her own assistant caught her naked! Rafa couldn’t let that happen. “Let’s go!”

They burst from the closet, a broom falling out in their wake. She snatched up a dusting cloth, which they used to dry each other off with, then tossed it back into the closet, along with the broom. He disposed of the condom, and they dressed in record time.

Grace was still zipping up her boots when Rafa heard the backstage door open. He went to intercept whoever it was. As Grace had predicted, it was Carl.

Rafa gave him a cheerful wave. “Hi. Grace and I were just checking for booby traps. Want to help me inspect the dressing rooms while Grace finishes up backstage?”

Carl obediently followed him to the dressing rooms, greeting Grace casually as they passed her. She was crouched down with her back turned, pretending to examine a trap door. Rafa let Carl inspect the dressing rooms while he watched. The assistant didn’t seem to suspect anything, and they found nothing amiss.

By the time they returned, Grace was climbing down from the booth, all zipped up and with no evidence that she’d had multiple orgasms fifteen minutes ago other than slightly rumpled hair and an aura of satisfaction. When Carl went into the audience and had his back turned, she threw Rafa a wink and a whisper of, “Just erased the tape.”

“Too bad, I was hoping to save it for a rainy day,” Rafa whispered back with a grin.

The rest of the cast, crew, and musicians began to trickle in.

Melissa paused in the door, one hand flung out dramatically. “Wait! Is that sewer vermin here? That hideous rabid rat?”

Ruth did indeed have Tycho perched on her shoulder. Defensively, she said, “He’s not rabid, and I’m sure he’s never been any closer to a sewer than you have. Anyway, he won’t leave my shoulder.”

Melissa edged in, glaring at Ruth and Tycho every step of the way. “It better not.”

“He won’t,” Ruth assured her. “He’s obviously well-trained.”

I bet he is, thought Rafa.

Grace apparently had the exact same thought. From across the room, they traded glances.

Paris swept in, carrying a picnic basket and a large tray covered in tin foil. “Gather round! I come bearing cupcakes!”

Lubomir checked his watch. “We’ve still got fifteen minutes. Cupcake break, everyone!”

“Can we get Mars rock seven onstage?” Grace called. “And a sheet of plastic to protect it?”

Several stagehands laid a large, flat Mars rock onstage and covered it with a clear plastic drop cloth. At Grace’s instructions, they also laid out rows of odd-looking chairs.

“Space shuttle seats,” she explained to Rafa.

Everyone settled into the seats. With great ceremony, Paris laid out paper plates, plastic silverware, and finally a thermos and a bundled-up cloth napkin, which she unwrapped to reveal a little china teacup with a matching saucer. “For your chamomile tea, Ruth.”

The scientist smiled, her cheeks flushing pink. “You’re so sweet.”

“Everyone else fends for themselves for drinks,” Paris went on.

She gave Carl a meaningful glance. With a small sigh and a mutter under his breath of “coffee with cream, coffee with sugar and cream, coffee with neither,” he went out.

“And now! The grand unveiling!” With a dramatic flourish, Paris lifted the tin foil. A series of excited gasps and murmurs arose. Rafa caught Paris’s eye across the cupcakes and grinned at her. She winked back.

He had to admit, she had outdone herself. The cupcakes looked like they’d been made by a professional baker. More importantly, they looked absolutely delicious.

“AIEEEEE!”

A shriek split the ear, and nearly split Rafa’s eardrums. It was Melissa. Again. Tycho had leaped off Ruth’s shoulder and was making a beeline for the cupcakes.

Ruth snatched him away just in time. “I’m so sorry, Melissa. I’ll put him in his cage until the cupcakes are gone. I guess he’s got a sweet tooth.”

As she went to pop him into a little carrying cage, Rafa asked Paris, “Is there vanilla in any of the cupcakes?”

“It’s in all of them, actually. Not enough to taste, except for the vanilla cupcakes there.” Paris indicated a few white-frosted cupcakes. “But adding a little vanilla to the batter just makes it taste better. Why? You’re not allergic, are you?”

Rafa gave her his most innocent smile. “Just wondering if that was what smelled so good.”

He and Grace again exchanged glances. He’d double-check with the bottle of vanilla extract later, in case the little white rat really did just have a sweet tooth, but he was already convinced that his theory was right: Tycho had been trained.

“What are they all?” a stagehand asked.

“Hang on. Let’s wait till everyone’s here.” But Paris had apparently forgotten or didn’t care about Carl, because as soon as Ruth returned to her place at the Mars rock table, she launched into her cupcake explanation. “Those luscious, gooey, chocolately ones are lava cupcakes. Just for you, Ruth! Eat one quick, while it’s still warm from the oven.”

“Warm from the oven,” Ruth echoed. “Just for me?”

With a smile, Paris put one on a plate and slid it over to her, along with a knife and fork. “I’d cut it instead of just biting into it, if I was you.”

Ruth sliced into the cupcake. Hot fudge oozed out, sending up tiny wisps of steam in the cool theatre. She took a bite, and a positively orgasmic expression came over her face. Her voice a bit muffled, she murmured, “Incredible.”

Paris watched Ruth eat, looking as pleased as Rafa had ever seen her, until Brady nudged her. “What are the rest of them?”

“Right!” Paris seemed to visibly force her attention from Ruth to the cupcakes. “The ones with a chunk of Snickers bar on top are Snickers cupcakes: chocolate cake with caramel and peanuts. The chocolate cupcakes with just chocolate frosting on top are regular chocolate, the plain white cupcakes are vanilla, and the white ones with sprinkles are birthday cake.”

She looked straight at Rafa, grinning, as she went on, “And I made some unusual cupcakes for Grace. The pink ones with crushed peppermint candy on top are peppermint stick, the light brown ones with white frosting are root beer float, and the light brown ones with a caramel drizzle are caramel-bacon.”

Lubomir put down the caramel-drizzled cupcake he’d just picked up and took a Snickers cupcake instead. Grace helped herself to his unwanted bacon cupcake.

“And the pink ones with the rose petal on top are rose-flavored,” Paris concluded.

“Your favorite, Rafa,” said Grace, putting a rose-flavored cupcake on his plate.

She undoubtedly wouldn’t mind knowing he’d fantasized about making love to her on a bed of rose petals, but he could hardly explain that in public as the reason for her misunderstanding. Valiantly, he took a bite. It tasted like soap.

“Delicious,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Paris trying not to burst out laughing.

Her voice quivering slightly, she said, “I bought rose water just for you, Rafa.”

“You’re a true friend,” he said, then broke the cupcake in half. “You have to try this, Grace.”

She ate her half with every appearance of sincere enjoyment. “Thanks, Rafa. Paris, these are amazing.”

“Thanks,” Paris said. She watched Ruth tip the thermos over her teacup. Only a few drops came out. “I have another thermos of tea in my dressing room. I’ll go get it.”

“You don’t need—” Ruth began. But Paris was already out the door that led to the dressing rooms.

Rafa reached for a vanilla cupcake to forestall Grace handing him another frosted lump of baked perfume. But before he could pick it up, the other door opened. He glanced up, expecting to see Carl with everyone’s coffee. And he did. But the person accompanying Carl was about the last one Rafa expected—or wanted—to see at the theatre.

It was his teammate Nick. His mate Raluca stood beside him, with Manuel lurking behind them and looking around, wide-eyed.

“I do hope we aren’t intruding,” Raluca said to the room at large.  “Carl said you were on a break.”

“They said they’re Rafa’s friends,” Carl explained to Grace. “I told them it was fine to come in and say hi. It is, right?”

“Are they friends of yours?” Grace asked Rafa softly.

With no other alternative, he admitted, “Yes.”

“Sure, it’s fine,” Grace told them. “Come on in. Have a cupcake.”

“Nick, what are you doing here?” Rafa tried to speak for Nick’s ears only, but Grace was right next to him. He did his best not to look at her.

Nick shrugged. “We picked up Manuel at the airport, and the theatre’s on the way to our apartment. I pointed it out and mentioned you were working here, and he wanted to stop by and—”

“Rafa!” Manuel flung his long arms around Rafa’s chest. “It’s so great to see you! You know, I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you did for me, but you changed my life. So thank you. I wouldn’t be where I am now without you.”

“You’re welcome.” Rafa tried to return the hug with the warmth he actually felt for the kid, but nine-tenths of his mind was occupied with the disaster that would ensue if Nick spotted how Rafa looked at Grace or how she looked at him, realized that they were mates, and decided to haze her on the spot. He had to get them all out of there as quickly as possible. And without giving them any reason to notice Grace.

So rather than introducing them to her or anyone, Rafa said, “Great to see you too, Manuel. Want to go outside and catch up?”

“Sure!” Manuel let Rafa lead him one step away, then stopped. “Wait, are you allowed to leave the theatre? Nick said you’re bodyguarding the leading lady.”

Before Rafa could reply, Nick glanced around the theatre and casually asked a question that struck him like a bullet: “Speaking of your ex-wife, where is she?”