Protecting His Beautiful Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune 3)

The food was fine. Grilled chicken and salad and bread. The usual stuff. They’d made the food together, even Ashley helping out by putting the bread in a basket for

them. Conversation was mainly Tara and Ashley talking about ideas for a new photo shoot for her Instagram account and Clint grunting or nodding his opinions.

But still, under all the normality, something felt off for Tara. And it wasn’t just her insecurities talking, either. Nope. She stood at the sink, rinsing off the dishes and sticking them in the dishwasher while Clint got Ashley ready for bed. He seemed guarded. Well, more guarded. Plus, she hadn’t missed the fact that every time she tried to bring up his meeting with Jacob Bartlet, Clint changed the subject. She’d get the info out of him, though, one way or another. She could be plenty persuasive when she needed to be. One more reason she was so good at her job.

“Anything I can help with?” Clint asked, returning to the kitchen a short while later, just as Tara was finishing up. He leaned his hips back against the counter a few feet away from her and had his damned phone out again. She was all for staying up-to-date on emails and social media, but this was getting ridiculous tonight.

“Well, you can start by telling me what happened with Bartlet today,” she said, sliding the last dish into the dishwasher and closing the door before wiping her hands on a towel. “What did he say?”

Clint took a deep breath and shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. “Nothing we didn’t already know. I sent a report to the guys. They’re looking into it. Did the window repair guys come today?”

“Hmm.” Tara didn’t believe him for a second. Well, not the part about sending his report to the guys. That she bought. But not the rest of it. Jacob Bartlet had been on her radar as someone shifty since the first time she’d met him, and now here was Clint acting all squirrely. There was definitely more to that story. She finished wiping down the counters and the table, then hung the towel over the handle on the oven and stretched, yawning. “And yes. Ashley’s room is all fixed up and right as rain again.”

“Good.”

“You said he mentioned John Berger, right? How did that come up?”

“Huh?” Clint scowled down at his phone, then finally glanced up at her. “I mean, yeah. He mentioned him. Said he might be unhappy that you got the interim director spot. The guys are looking into it. They checked the footage from the security cameras too, to see if they could tell who threw the smoke bomb, but they haven’t found anything conclusive yet. Whoever it was knew what they were doing. Tossed it just right so it didn’t set off the alarms, at an angle where the cameras couldn’t get a clear shot.”

“Hmm.” Tara moved closer to him, determined to get the full truth out of him. She appreciated his attention to detail where her safety was concerned, but she wasn’t about to let him get away without telling her more about his interview earlier. “Was that all Bartlet said?”

Clint blinked at her a moment, then set his phone aside on the charging pad on the counter before waggling his fingers at her. “Come here.”

Tara hesitated. “Why?”

“Because…” His slow sexy grin sent hot tingles of want through her despite her wishes. He straightened and took another step in her direction, bringing them about six inches apart. The heat of his body penetrated the thin pink shirt she was wearing and the scent of soap and woodsy cologne from his shower earlier surrounded her. Clint reached over and grabbed the hem of her T-shirt gently between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t worry about my talk with Bartlet. Just be right here—with me. I missed you.”

One tug and she stumbled into him, her chest colliding with his as his strong arms pulled her closer. Her breasts brushed his pecs and her nipples hardened. Tara stared up at him, her cheeks hot and her lips parted. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she got the sense that this was all a distraction, an excuse to divert her attention from his interview with Bartlet and the information she wanted, but damn if she could bring herself to care at the moment. Besides, she must be misunderstanding somehow. Why would Clint want to keep information from her? They were in this together, weren’t they? She placed a hand over his heart, feeling it thunder right along with her own, his pupils blown wide with need and his body hardening in all the right places. “You did?”

Her words came out far more breathless than she intended, but then he slid his hand down her back to her butt, pressing her pelvis into his and rocking, letting her know in no uncertain terms that yeah. He wanted her all right. Molten heat gathered between her legs and she nearly gasped with pleasure.

“I did,” he whispered, bending to nuzzle the spot where her neck met her earlobe, the one that drove her nuts and made her want to dig her nails into his shoulders and arch against him. He growled low as she did just that, raising one leg to wrap it around his waist. “I do.”

Tara let her head fall back and Clint took full advantage, kissing his way down to the pulse point at the base of her neck while cupping one breast in his hand through her shirt, brushing the pad of his thumb over the taut peak, making her bite her lip to contain her helpless whimper. He did it a second time and she gave up the fight. She wanted the information, yes, but right now, she wanted him more. She slid her fingers through his hair, loving the way he shuddered against her as her nails gently scraped his skin, then pulled his mouth to hers for a long, deep kiss. Afterward, she gave him a wicked little smile. “I do too.”

That invitation was all he needed. Before she knew it, her back hit the wall and his body pressed into her front, holding her in place as he quickly tugged her shirt over her head and dispensed with her bra before cupping her breasts again, this time bare skin to bare skin. There was no way she could stop the tiny sounds of ecstasy issuing from her throat now. He broke yet another hot, open-mouthed kiss and she did manage to regain her senses for a brief second. “What about Ashley?”

“In bed,” he said, the back of his fingers leaving goose bumps in their wake as he trailed them down her abdomen to unbutton and unzip her jeans before tugging them off, along with her panties, leaving her completely naked while he was still fully clothed. “Sound asleep. Door closed.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her and buried his face in her stomach, breathing in deep, like he couldn’t get enough of her. She felt the same way about him and it rocked her to her core. Then he kissed his way downward and Tara lost her train of thought completely as he made love to her with his lips and tongue and teeth, leaving her knees weak and her brain foggy with lust. Before she could climax, he stood and pulled off his own T-shirt, exposing all that gorgeous, muscled perfection to her gaze.

“Please, Clint,” she said, pleading softly and reaching for him, but he pulled back. “I need you.”

“I need you too, baby,” he said, his voice low and dark. Then he removed his own jeans and stood there hard and ready before her. She couldn’t look away as he smoothed on a condom over his length and she bit her lip. “And I’m going to have you. Right here, right now.”

“Yes,” she hissed as he pulled her into his arms once more, needing him, needing this, more than she needed her next breath. It had never been like this with anyone else before and a tiny warning bell went off in her head. She shouldn’t get so involved, shouldn’t care so much, shouldn’t let him past her inner barriers. But it was too late—she feared he was already there. Then he hoisted her up in his arms and kissed her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he drove into her, burying himself hilt-deep inside her body in one long, slow thrust, and Tara didn’t think about anything else except him and her and them together and how incredible this all felt. There seemed to be a desperation to their lovemaking tonight, at least on Clint’s part. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing her and touching her and licking her skin. Not that she was complaining. It was hot, no doubt about it. But there also seemed to be something missing, like he was shutting her out even as he was drawing her closer to the edge.

Then he reached down between them to stroke her slick folds and her most sensitive flesh and any rational thoughts at all went right out of her head. She was close, so, so close. She needed this, needed him, needed release. “Yes. Please, Clint. Please…”

/>

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he growled in her ear, changing his angle of penetration to hit that spot inside her just right. “Tell me.”

“I want you to make me come,” she whispered back, panting with need. “Please, make me come.”

“Always, baby. Always,” he said, driving her over the brink into a blinding orgasm, kissing her hard and swallowing her cries of pleasure as wave after exquisite wave of sensation rolled over her, her body milking his into his own release. Toes curling on the hardwood floor, Clint drove into her hard once, twice, before he stiffened in her arms, coming deep inside her, his face buried in her throat, his sweat-slicked skin sliding against hers as they rested against the wall and caught their breath.

Slowly, they seemed to come back to themselves and he eased away slightly to brush the hair from her eyes. “Okay, baby?”