Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

He reached a hand toward Ty. After the briefest of hesitations, Ty unfurled his arms and took Pete’s hand, giving it a perfunctory shake.

“Ty.”

“Are you guys together?” Pete asked, looking a little confused.

“Ty’s my…”

Ty cut through Vicki’s faltering explanation with an unequivocal, “Yes.” Vicki sent him an exasperated scowl at the misleading response. Why hadn’t Bella explained Vicki’s…unique circumstances to Pete?

“Great, Bells didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone, Vic. Have you two been together long?”

“Pete…Ty’s not…”

“Nearly fifteen months.” Seriously? What was this about? She glared at Ty, who returned her look impassively.

Gah, it was infuriating! How could he wind her up like this and remain so unaffected? Was this a joke? If so, she didn’t get it.

Not funny, she mouthed, and he lifted a nonchalant shoulder, literally shrugging off her outrage.

Pete was about to reply when one of his buddies dragged him away to settle some dispute about Star Trek versus Star Wars, leaving Vicki and Ty to their own devices again.

“What the hell was that?”

“I figured you didn’t want to bring attention to the fact that you need a close protection officer.”

“I don’t need one,” she reminded him, somewhat mollified by his response. It actually did simplify matters. She found that people responded to the truth about Ty’s presence in one of two ways: they were either weirded out and tried to get away from her possibly danger-attracting sphere as soon as possible, or they asked a million questions that she was unwilling to answer. It made her feel like a freak.

It was one of the reasons she’d stayed away from men after her breakup with Sullivan. It was simpler to just not get involved with anyone while Ty—and to a lesser extent, Chance—were such prominent parts of her life.

“Perhaps not,” Ty said in response to her comment. “But you have one, so it’s a moot point.”

Someone jostled Vicki, and Ty immediately inserted himself between the man and Vicki. He shielded her from a flying elbow as the man gesticulated wildly while chatting with a laughing woman. The man’s elbow caught Ty in the ribs and he grimaced, before taking Vicki’s arm—his touch scorching through the lacy fabric of her sleeve—and steering her toward a quieter corner, where he placed his bulk between her and the rest of the partygoers.

Effectively trapped between his body and the wall, Vicki leaned back. She folded her hands behind her and pressed the flat of her palms against the smooth, cool surface. She slanted her head back to look at him. He had one arm braced against the wall above her head and was gazing down at her intently. He was so close, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Her voice was husky and breathless. He looked confounded by her question, and she elaborated. “He elbowed you quite hard.”

“I’m fine.”

“Thank you for saving me, Ty,” she whispered, and he inhaled sharply.

“No need to be facetious, Vicki.”

“I’m not,” she said blinking up at him disingenuously. “He would probably have caught me on the boob. It would have been bruised for days.”

As was her intention, the reference to her breast had his eyes dipping to her chest. She brought her hand up to lightly cup the breast in question, as if to shield it from the imagined pain the guy’s elbow would have caused.

He gulped and his breath hitched, impossible not to notice with him standing so close to her. It more than hitched, it stalled completely, before starting up again, in fast, uneven pants.

Her eyes were on his face, while his eyes—filled with brooding intensity—remained laser focused on her hand.

He looked…Oh, God, he looked ravenous, and Vicki shuddered as she considered the hunger in his eyes. And what it meant. Did she dare test him any further? Was she prepared for the consequences if she did?

Her hand dropped limply to her side, but the abrasion of the fabric against her naked nipple—combined with the bone-melting intensity of his gaze—had a predictable effect on said nipple. She could feel it, hard, and tight, and throbbing and tore her eyes away from his face to look at the part of her body that held his entire focus right now.

Her nipple was tenting the fabric, forming an unmistakable peak beneath the lace bodice of the dress. His single-minded attention was unbearably arousing, and the other nipple peaked and hardened as well, providing twin points of interest for his feasting eyes.

Her chest was starting to heave as she fought to maintain her composure, and the increased movement only served to place emphasis on her erect nipples. The quintessential heaving bosom as it were. Complete with peasant sleeves and a bodice made for ripping.

No, he wouldn’t even have to rip it… Her neckline plunged deeply enough for him to easily slip one of those large, capable hands beneath the fabric and have unfettered access to her bare breasts. Or maybe he’d prefer to lower his head and nuzzle the fabric aside before latching onto her nipple with his hot mouth.