against hers, she didn’t back away. He didn’t, either.
His wonderful hands had been sliding up underneath the sheer fabric of her gown, holding her backside against his hardness, his masculine scent surrounding and seducing her like a drug, when it had all gone wrong.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he’d whispered against her neck as she’d let her hands explore him the way she’d been dying to for weeks. He was a big man, in more ways than one, and her body craved him.
“Maybe that’s why it feels so good,” she’d replied, and she would remember the lust that had burned in his eyes until her dying day.
They were completely wrapped up in each other when the attacker hit Jonas from behind. He’d dropped from her arms to the pavement, leaving her to face her attacker, a political extremist who clearly was willing to cross the line to protest her father’s work. Tessa still could feel the icy fear of that moment, thinking Jonas had been killed and that she was next.
She’d gotten very, very lucky, remembering the bat she had in the back of her car from summer softball games with her friends. Adrenaline served her well in fighting the man off.
She figured at first, when there was no word from or about Jonas, that he was just laying low. Staying out of the limelight, since the story had been all over the news, at least insofar as her and her father were mentioned. The Berringers might not have existed, which is what she supposed made them effective.
From her experience, some protective details, she knew, were all about the flash. They wore Armani and soaked up the media attention that guarding famous or powerful people granted them.
Berringer wasn’t like that. They were serious security who put the client first. When she tried to find out about Jonas on the web, she’d found next to nothing; there were a few news articles from when he was on the police force, and the agency web page, which offered a minimum of information.
The Berringer brothers in the background, keeping their clients quietly safe.
It soon became clear that Jonas wasn’t just laying low. He didn’t want anything to do with her.
Her father was caught up in business on the Hill when the attack happened, and Tessa kept her distance from Howie, who was holding court in her father’s absence. Tessa didn’t ask Howie anything about Jonas, since she didn’t want to encourage her father’s aide. Howie had come on to her a few times, and she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested, but the guy didn’t seem to understand the word no.
Jonas’s brothers wouldn’t tell her anything, either. She assumed that they all blamed her for distracting him and almost getting him killed. Rightfully so. She’d tracked him down now, intent on apologizing, but she hadn’t expected this.
“I’m so sorry, Jonas,” she said on a raw whisper as she dragged her attention back to the present.
He looked fierce as he closed the space between them. He might be blind, but Jonas honed in on her with no hesitation, his hands clamping hard over her shoulders.
“Stop it, Tessa. Sympathy is the last thing I want from you, or anyone.”
“What do you want, then?” she asked, her mind trying to grasp the new discovery.
“What I’d really like is for you to go, and don’t come back,” he said harshly.
She lifted hands to frame his face, and he flinched, but she didn’t draw back. No way was she leaving.
“What happened between us that night, Jonas, it—”
“Meant nothing,” he interrupted. “Why are you here? Haven’t you done enough?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, shocked by his tone. “I came here to apologize—”
“Come on, Tessa. Your father made it clear that you didn’t want a bodyguard in the first place. He said you could be … difficult. So, what? Was getting me into bed the easiest way to piss the senator off and get me pulled off the job? Or was it just for fun? Were you bored?”
“None of that is true,” she said, appalled.
“What happened that night shouldn’t have. I take full responsibility for that, but I won’t make the same mistake twice. You should go.”
His obviously low opinion of her hurt more than she imagined it would have. Did he hate himself that much for giving in to her? For wanting her?
“The way I remember it, you wanted me as much as I did you, Jonas.”
He paused a second too long before nodding shortly. “It was a momentary lapse. It happens sometimes when mostly naked women throw themselves at you,” he said unkindly.
“I see,” she said, stepping in and tracing her finger down his chest, feeling his heart slam under the hard wall of muscle, and her own heart thudding even harder. She was angry, hurt and intent on not being so easily dismissed.
He was perfect. His skin was deep brown from the summer sun, taut and warm with a sprinkling of dark hair that provided softness over the hard cords of muscle that flexed under her touch. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Her fingers played over the sculpted muscles she had only fantasized about.
His hands grabbed at the air, seeking and then finding her wrists, holding her away. A pulse throbbed in the base of his throat. He wasn’t unaffected by her at all.
“Stop, Tessa. No more games.”
“No, Jonas,” she said softly, not fighting his hold, but leaning in as she lifted her mouth to take his unsuspecting lips in a warm kiss. “No more games.”
He resisted, standing rigid, his mouth firm and unmoving, until she sighed against him and licked at his lower lip. She inhaled deeply, loving the manly scent of sandalwood, soap and sweat. “You make me crazy. You know it’s true.”
He cursed against her lips. His hands tightened on her wrists, but then let go and his arms banded around her and pulled her in, his mouth opening to hers, taking control, plundering and ravishing her in a hard, punishing kiss.
Tessa gave herself up to him, let him take his fill as she took hers. They parted a few moments later, both breathless.
“Is this what you want, Tessa?” he asked when he pulled back, and she paused before responding.
He was hard, his arousal clear under the towel he wore. Not immune to her, not completely.
Or was it how he said, that any man would respond this way?
“Not like this,” she said, seeing none of the warmth or desire in his face that had been there before.
He shook his head in disgust. “You know the thing that really ticks me off? That you would come here, intent on getting whatever it is you want, with no regard for the consequences to others. You don’t care who gets hurt, do you, as long as you can stick it to your old man.”
“I never did that. My father respects you, or he wouldn’t have sent you to guard me. And he and I don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.”
“Right.
