Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“He doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What’s my type? It’s not like I’ve dated anyone since you’ve been around,

how could you possibly have an accurate idea of my type?”

“That guy you were dating when I first started, he was nothing like this Teddy.”

“Maybe he was the exception, and Teddy is the rule?”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he remained silent.

“I’m off this weekend.”

Surprised by the non-sequitur, Vicki blinked, not sure why he would bring that up. “I’m aware of that.”

“I won’t be there when you have your lunch with the guy.”

Oh.

“Chance will be there.”

“He may not be as vigilant as I am.”

What the heck was going on right now? Why was he being so damned odd? “Chance does his job just fine.”

“If you’re uncomfortable in any way, let Chance know.”

“I won’t be. Teddy is a perfectly lovely man.”

“Perfectly lovely men have been known to get inappropriate and handsy.”

“Maybe I’ll want him to get handsy.”

He clamped his mouth shut at that and gave her a brief, fulminating glare in the rearview mirror.

When he returned his focus to the road, she thought that would be the end of it. Until, “Teddy is a damned stupid name for an adult man.”

“What’s going on with you tonight, Ty? Have you been drinking?”

He bristled at that. “I would never drink on duty.”

There was a brief silence, which Vicki—dead curious about his strange mood—broke a moment later. “I like the name Teddy. It sounds cuddly.”

“That guy is all angles, nothing cuddly about him,” Ty retorted.

“There’s nothing cuddly about you, either. You’re hard planes and slabs of muscle.”

“We’re not talking about me, I’m not the one with the ridiculous name.”

“Sure, you’re not, Mr. Ty-Me-Down. Or is that Ty-Me-Up?” His jaw clenched so hard, she knew he had to be gritting his teeth.

He muttered something beneath his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you just say you’d tie me up, all right?” She was ridiculously scandalized by the words she was sure she’d heard him mumble. Scandalized and a little—no, a lot—turned on by it.

“More rhetorical questions,” he griped, sounding grumpy.

“You’d tie me up?” She heard the quiet speculation in her own voice. “Would you blindfold me too?”

He choked on nothing but air. Or maybe spit. Either way, it left him coughing and spluttering.

The car slammed to a stop in front of her building seconds later, giving him an excuse not to reply. He immediately jumped out and handed the keys to the valet, before opening the door for her. This time he did not divert his eyes when she slid her bare legs out of the car. Instead, he blatantly stared while she wriggled off the backseat and attempted to preserve her modesty at the same time.

He ushered her into the building and straight to the elevator, and as soon as the doors slid shut, she spoke. “I don’t think I’d mind being blindfolded. I imagine every sense would be heightened, and that slight element of danger, of not knowing what would come next…it’s a ridiculously erotic thought.”

He said nothing, but his breathing was labored, as if he’d been running for miles. She turned to face him, while he kept his eyes front and body pointed forward.

“Have you ever blindfolded someone, Ty?”

He screwed his eyes shut for a second, before swinging his head to stare at her. There was such naked longing in his gaze that her throat went dry and her knees started to wobble.

“No.” The word was a quiet moan. Vicki sucked her lower lip into her mouth as she contemplated all that yearning on his face, in his eyes, and laced through his voice.

She shifted closer to him, just half an inch, wanting to see if he would move away. He didn’t. Instead, he turned fully toward her.

“Don’t.” The word was uttered in a voice so broken, it was nothing but a ragged wisp on the air between them.

“I’m not doing anything,” she whispered.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“It’s not intentional.”

The elevator dinged to a stop, and the doors slid open. They both ignored it. Their eyes entangled and said what their mouths could not. The elevator wouldn’t shift from this floor unless it was recalled and, since Hugh was likely home, that meant it was staying put for now.

“The other night…when I touched you…did you—uhm—did you like it?”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and she feared he wouldn’t respond, but his big shoulders shifted, and he inhaled deeply.

“Was I turned on, you mean?”

His forthrightness disconcerted her, and she struggled to contain the blush staining her chest and face.

“Y-yes. I mean, were you turned on?”

“I’m sure you friend must have told you that I had a hard-on?” Again, with the bluntness. It was killing her.

“She mentioned that you may have had a physical reaction. Uh, so…you liked it?”

“You were touching me,” he reminded her, and she grimaced.

“You were responding to the stimulus. I get it.”