Her Kind of Hero: The Last Mercenary

“Sure thing, boss.”

Footsteps faded down the corridor.

“I was back in the chair, at Lopez’s house. That man had the knife again, and he was cutting me,” she choked. Her wild, frightened eyes met Micah’s. “You’ll shoot me, if they try to take me and you can’t stop them, right?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Nobody is going to take you away from here by force,” he said gently. “I promise. I can protect you on this island. It’s why I brought you here in the first place.”

She sighed and relaxed a little. “I’m being silly. It was the dream. It was so real, and I was scared to death, Micah! It all came back the minute I fell asleep!” She shivered. “Can’t you hold me?” she asked huskily, her eyes on his muscular, hair-roughened chest. Looking at it made her whole body tingle. “Just for a minute?”

“Are you out of your mind?” he ground out.

She searched his eyes. He looked odd. “Why not?”

“Because…” His gaze fell to her breasts. They were hard-tipped now, visibly taut with desire. His jaw clenched. His hands on her wrists tightened roughly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I forgot! Sorry.” She tried to cover herself, but his hands were relentless. She cleared her throat and grimaced. “That hurts,” she complained on a nervous laugh, tugging at his hands. They loosened, but only a fraction.

“Did you take those pills I gave you to make you sleep?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes. But they didn’t keep me asleep.” She blinked. She smiled drowsily. She felt very uninhibited. He was looking at her breasts and she liked it. Her head fell back, because he hadn’t turned her loose. His hands weren’t bruising anymore, but they were holding her wrists firmly. She arched her back sensuously and watched the way his eyes narrowed and glittered on her breasts. She saw his body tense, and she gave a husky, wicked little laugh.

“You like looking at me there, don’t you?” she asked, vaguely aware that she was being reckless.

He made a rough sound and met her eyes again. “Yes,” he said flatly. “I like it.”

“I wanted to take my clothes off for you when I was just sixteen,” she confided absently as her tongue ran away with her. “I wanted you to see me. I ached all over when you looked at me that last Christmas. I wanted you to kiss me so hard that it would bruise my mouth. I wanted to unbutton your shirt and pull my dress down and let you hold me like that.” She shivered helplessly at the images that rushed into her reeling mind. “You’re so sexy, Micah,” she whispered huskily. “So handsome. And I was just plain and my breasts were small, nothing like those beautiful, buxom women you always dated. I knew you’d never want me the way I wanted you.”

He shook her gently. “Callie, for God’s sake, hush!” he grated, his whole body tensing with desire at the imagery she was creating.

She was too relaxed from the sleeping pills to listen to warnings. She smiled lazily. “I never wanted anybody to touch me until then,” she said softly. “Men always seemed repulsive to me. Did I ever tell you that my mother’s last lover tried to seduce me? I ran from him and he knocked me down the stairs. I broke my arm. My mother said it was my fault. She took me back to the foster home. She said I was a troublemaker, and told lies about what happened.”

“Dear God!” he exclaimed.

“So after that, I wore floppy old clothes and no makeup and pulled my hair back so I looked like the plainest old maid on earth, and I acted real tough. They left me alone. Then my mother married your dad,” she added. “And I didn’t have to be afraid anymore. Except it was worse,” she murmured drowsily, “because I wanted you to touch me. But you didn’t like me that way. You said I was a tramp, like my mother…”

“I didn’t mean it,” he ground out. “I was only trying to spare you more heartache. You were just a baby, and I was old enough to know better. It was the only way I knew to keep you at arm’s length.”

“You wanted my mother,” she accused miserably.

“Never!” he said, and sounded utterly disgusted. “She was hard as nails, and her idea of femininity was complete control. She was the most mercenary human being I ever met.”

Her pale blue eyes blinked as she searched his black ones curiously. “You said I was, too.”

“You’re not mercenary, honey,” he replied quietly. “You never were.”

She sighed, and her breasts rose and fell, drawing his attention again. “I feel so funny, Micah,” she murmured.

“Funny, how?” he asked without thinking.

She laughed softly. “I don’t know how to describe it. I feel…like I’m throbbing. I feel swollen.”

She was describing sexual arousal, and he was fighting it like mad. He drew in a long, slow breath and forced himself to let go of her wrists. Her arms fell to her sides and he stared helplessly at the thrust of her small, firm breasts.

“It’s so sad,” she sighed. “The only time you’ve ever looked at me or touched me was because I was hurt and needed medical attention.” She laughed involuntarily.

“You have to stop this. Right now,” he said firmly.

“Stop what?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

He lifted the sheet and placed it over her breasts, pulling one of her hands up to hold it there.

She glowered at him as he got to his feet. “That’s great,” she muttered. “That’s just great. Are you the guy at a striptease who yells ‘put it back on’?”

He chuckled helplessly. “Not usually, no. I’ll leave the door between our rooms and the bathroom open. You can sing out if you get scared again.”

“Gosh, you’re brave,” she said. “Aren’t you afraid to leave your door unlocked? I might sneak in and ravish you in your sleep.”

“I wear a chastity belt,” he said with a perfectly straight face.

Her eyes widened and suddenly she burst out laughing.

He grinned. “That’s more like it. Now lie back down and stop trying to seduce me. When you wake up and remember the things you’ve said and done tonight, you’ll blush every time you look at me.”

She shrugged. “I guess I will.” She frowned. “What was in those pills?”

“A sedative. Obviously it has an unpredictable reaction on you,” he commented with a long, amused look. “Either that or I’ve discovered a brand-new aphrodisiac. It makes retiring virgins wanton, apparently.”

She glared up at him. “I am not wanton, and it wasn’t my fault, anyway. I was very scared and you came running in here to flaunt your bare chest at me,” she pointed out.

“You were the one doing the flaunting,” he countered. “I’m going to have Lisette buy you some gowns, and while you’re here, you’ll wear them. I don’t keep condoms handy anymore,” he added bluntly.

She flushed and gasped audibly. “Micah Steele!” she burst out, horrified at the crude remark.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what one is. You’re not that naive. But that’s the only way I’d ever have sex with you, even if I lost my head long enough to stifle my conscience,” he added bluntly. “Because I don’t want kids, or a wife, ever.”

“I’ve already told you that I’m not proposing marriage!”

“You tried to seduce me,” he accused.

“You tempted me! In fact, you drugged me!”

He was trying valiantly not to laugh. “I never!” he defended himself. “I gave you a mild sedative. A very mild sedative!”

“It was probably Spanish Fly,” she taunted. “I’ve read about what it’s supposed to do to women. You gave it to me deliberately so that I’d flash my breasts at you and make suggestive remarks, no doubt!”

He pursed his lips and lifted his chin, muffling laughter. “For the record, you’ve got gorgeous breasts,” he told her. “But I’ve never seen myself as a tutor for a sensuous virgin. In case you were thinking along those lines.”