The Unlikely Bodyguard

“Get on, Calli.”

“Look, Angel. I don’t need your protection.” She leaned in, her face inches from his, her hand on her car door handle. “Go find someone who does.”

She was just too close, he thought. He wanted to taste her. All of her.

His lips tightened into a grim line as she tried opening the door, giving him an impatient glare to move his bike. Then her gaze darted frantically beyond him to the men.

“Don’t be a hero, Calli.” He could tell she was scared. “You can’t handle them and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you’d move that hunk of steel!” She jerked on the door.

Without another word, Gabe slapped his arm around her waist and dragged her across his lap. Her legs kicked up, her elbow driving into his stomach, her fist immediately clipping him on the chin and knocking his teeth together, stunning him. But he was stronger and faster and wrestled the keys from her fist, then booted the car door shut and rode away. He twisted slightly and set the alarm, then waved at the men in the street.

She grappled for balance and he hoisted her tightly between his thighs.

Calli glared at him.

Gabe rubbed his chin. “Not a bad left cross,” he said, amused.

Her lip curled in an unattractive snarl. He dumped her keys into her lap and she scrambled before they fell to the asphalt.

Calli made a frustrated sound. “This is kidnapping, you know.”

He glanced to the left as traffic moved alongside him. “Sue me.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.”

Was that supposed to please her? “You are by far the stubbornnest, most irritating man I’ve ever met.”

The wind smoothed her hair back and on the short stretch to the next light, he slumped comfortably in the seat. “Lucky you.” He’d met worse, a lot worse. “You didn’t cross your pals, yet. I could be an angel.” He flashed her a grin that looked more like a shark baring its teeth before a kill.

And she’d had enough of him. “Stop. Stop!”

“Call!—?”

“I said stop, dammit!”

He pulled the bike to the side of the street.

Calli shifted, facing him, casually draping her legs over his thigh as if they were in a living room and he was the sofa. “Why do you keep kidnapping me, butting in where you’re not wanted?”

Gabe let his gaze slide over her legs, the skirt hiked up so that he could see the tops of her red stockings, lace, and the shadow between. He swallowed and kept his hands away from her. “Because I was watching a lamb walk into a slaughter. Again.”

“A lamb? Me?” She tapped her chest, tapered nails clicking against the zipper of her jacket.

He gestured to the street. “You see any other senseless female walking into the sludge of humanity without a thought to her life?”

She reared back, frowning. “I wouldn’t call them sludge, exactly, and what do you care about my life? You don’t even know me.”

“I know I don’t want to be identifying you from—”

She put up a hand. “I get the picture—a toe tag.”

Calli avoided his gaze, wondering how she was going to dump him and still avoid those other “friends.”

- But Gabe saw the cogs moving behind those expressive eyes and said, “Night’s over, Cal.”

Her gaze slid to his, deep blue challenging white-green. Calli knew she would lose. He would camp out on her doorstep and play he-man if she didn’t go to bed meekly. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.

She threw her legs off his and straddled the bike, trying unsuccessfully to keep her skirt down.

He heard the bitterness in her voice when she said, “Then take me home, bad boy.”

Gabe leaned forward, her back pressed to his chest and he ached to run his hands up those legs and beneath the leather skirt. “You wouldn’t know bad,” he whispered in her ear, “if it was right behind you.”

She turned her head, meeting his piercing gaze head-on. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Or you wouldn’t be riding with me.”

“Like I have a choice?”

He gunned the engine, spitting pebbles as he shot away from the curb. Her body mashed back against his and he slipped one arm around her waist. Her breath caught, then released slowly, and Gabe liked the soft, shuddering sound he felt rather than heard.

But he didn’t like how satisfying she felt in his arms. Or how much he craved it when he’d gone without human contact for so long. The temptation for more told him to send her packing, now. And the only reason this trusting female would split, was if she realized she’d trusted the wrong kind of man. He wasn’t supposed to like her, just keep her sweet butt from ending up on a slab. That’s all he was being paid for, nothing else.

Two

They rode in silence, the wind whipping at their clothes, dust curling behind the Harley. His arm tightened around her waist as he tipped the bike on a turn. The big machine vibrating between her legs had nothing to do with her quickening breath. It was him, all him. Tucked snugly behind her, his thighs encasing hers, she felt like she was wearing him. His band lay splayed across her stomach and she sensed every digit, his wide palm, his arm curling around her hip. Calli hadn’t experienced anything quite this powerful in her life and she closed her eyes, wishing she could control her reaction to him. But this was what she’d wanted. Risk. Danger.

The wind friction did nothing to hide. the sound of his breathing in her ear. She didn’t try talking to him. But then his hand shifted as their speed increased, moving a fraction lower and with her legs spread, she experienced a sudden rush of heat. He must have sensed it, disliked it, for he immediately brought his hand to the steering grip. Then a moment later, he guided the bike into a parking lot. Her hotel again, she thought grimly as he pulled the Harley in front of her room. Above them neon lights flashed Vacancy.

He shoved the kickstand down and shut off the motor. The blunted silence strained the taut wire between them and she didn’t turn to look at him, watching his hand flex on the grip before it lowered to remove the key.

She felt him pocket the key and she shifted on the narrow seat, meeting his gaze. Something moved beneath those ice-green eyes before the look was shuttered to emptiness. He appeared relaxed, arms folded over his chest, his back braced on the bar, his legs spread. Her gaze followed the line from thigh to his flat stomach, then up to his face. His lips quirked. She stared him down, her chin lifting a bit. She could admire a good-looking man if she wanted, she thought petulantly. She might have been raised in a Catholic orphanage, but she was, by no means, a nun.

She shifted between his legs, her buttocks brushing the insides of his thighs as she slid her leg over the bike. She stood and the ground rolled. How could one drink, hours ago, make her feel this dizzy?

“You look a little pale.”

Was that concern in his voice real? “Actually, I had only one drink around seven, but I feel like I’m going to wretch.”

His brows furrowed for a split second. “Not on me.” He gave her a soft shove toward her room.

She took a couple of steps, then cocked a look at him. He was admiring her behind and she’d caught him at it. So. He wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed.

“Want to come in?” Careful, Calli.