Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

The thought of that—of his mouth suckling the aching peak of her breast—made her moan, and the sound seemed to jolt him back to the present.

He ripped his gaze from her chest and his stare scorched briefly over her face, before he stepped back. He selfishly took all of that delicious heat with him, and left her feeling ice-cold.

The sudden douse of frigid air between them injected a healthy measure of reality back into the situation.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked. He sounded curt, but there remained a lingering trace of gravel in that voice, telling her he was still shaken by their strange, erotic encounter.

“Yes. I am,” she said. Her parched throat created a crack in her voice that lent credence to her words.

“Wait here, I’ll get you some water.”

Vicki was about forty seconds into waiting there, when she recognized what she was doing. There was absolutely no reason to stand in a corner simply because he had told her to. She shook her head, irritated with herself, and stepped into the fray again. She was at a party, in her friend’s new home, and she was damned well going to enjoy herself.

Ty was unsurprised to find—when he returned with the water—that Vicki had not listened to him. He wasn’t particularly alarmed by her absence; he had scrutinized the crowd on his way to the tiny kitchen and hadn’t seen anyone particularly threatening or suspicious. Also, the flat was small and Vicki, while petite, didn’t exactly blend in with this crowd of conservatively dressed accountants.

Nor did it seem likely that she would gel with the women he assumed to be Bella’s book club friends. Seemingly sophisticated, wine-sipping women who all appeared to have their hair twisted up in various reproductions of the same complicated style. Ty knew the type; pseudo-intellectuals with a tendency to look down on those they considered their cerebral inferiors. He’d encountered similar sorts on past assignments. Most of them had treated him like some dolt to be talked down to like a child.

And right now, a lot of them were giving Vicki, in her short dress, with her wild curls and contagious laughter, the side eye.

Assholes.

He shouldered his way to where his charge was holding court with a couple guys in cheap suits. One of the men had his eyes firmly fixed on her modest cleavage, while the other looked frankly befuddled, but more than a little fascinated.

“Your water.” Ty said, and rudely placed his arm between Vicki and the boob ogling guy.

She took the glass of water and graced him with a dazzling smile. “Why thank you, Ty.”

Damn it, she was cute as fuck. He watched as she redirected all that scrappy charm back to the hapless fuckers in front of her and instantly wished he had that lively, intelligent gaze back on him.

No! No! No!

He did not wish that. What he wished he could have, was a do-over for tonight. No, not just for tonight, but for the entire day. Because he wanted to go back to the man he had been yesterday. The man who knew his boundaries and who recognized that duty took precedence over any and all physical needs.

That man seemed to have disappeared the moment Ty understood that he had not much more than two months left on this assignment.

Nine weeks. And out.

Things could remain uncomplicated within a such a short time frame. Uncomplicated and fun.

Things? What fucking things?

Ty wasn’t sure exactly where his thoughts were leading him, but as his eyes took in the laughing woman in front of him, as they dipped to her pert breasts, and skimmed over that perfect body…he called himself a damned liar.

Because he knew exactly what he was thinking. And what he wanted.

But it didn’t matter how much time he had left on this assignment, she was still his principal, and there were boundaries.

What he wanted, what he was imagining, was unthinkable. And yet—his eyes grazed over her again—he could not stop thinking about it.

She turned her laughing gaze on him but something in his face must have alerted her to his mood. Her smile froze, and she tilted her head in that familiar enquiring way.

“Ty? Is something wrong?”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, searching for a neutral topic.

“I’m starving but they only have canapés and crisps on offer.” She rolled her eyes.

“I could find a chippy—” He sneered as he said the ridiculous word. “And bring you something more substantial.”

“Oh, my gosh, would you?”

Fuck, he would slay dragons for her if she continued to stare at him like he was some kind of old-world hero just because he offered to bring her food.

“I don’t mind.”

“You sure I won’t get murdered or anything in this crowd?” Her voice was droll, inviting him to laugh with her. But he kept his lips clamped shut. He wasn’t amused by references to potential violence against her. Not even facetious ones.