Keeping Her Safe Page 3

  I put the seeds on top of the leaves at the same time he tips out the dressing so our hands graze. A spike of heat like an electric shock goes through me and he looks down at me. Involuntarily my lips part a little and for a moment I think - no, I know - that Quartz is going to cover my mouth with his.

  Time stops. I wait for an age, hardly inhaling. Then he jolts and catches back up with it. And gives a little shake of his head.

  No.

  4

  Quartz

  Damn this girl to hell and back. She’s going to be the death of me. Quite literally if her Daddy ever gets even an inkling of the chemistry that’s sparking between us. He was absolutely clear - no man was to even so much as look at her. And I know he’d have zero problem with destroying my business and taking out a contract on me, in no particular order.

  But, but if anyone is worth dying for, it’s Miss Cydnee Delgado. I’ve done a complete backflip on my opinion of her in the last five minutes and if that’s sounds impossible, let me tell you why. She’s an innocent. That much I saw in the pained expression on her face when I questioned her about her outfit. Nothing vain about it. It hit me that she made that effort to dress up for me. To make our evening a little special seeing as we’re thrown together in this awkward situation.

  Knowing her father as much as I do, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and suggest she may even be a virgin. Although that’s not a question I’d ever ask her of course. At the very least, she’s had very few dates.

  She was almost joyous as she threw herself into making salad, eager to do everything right. I made a goof, coming too close to her, where the heat between us rose to overwhelming. On grazing my bicep against her soft skin, it pained me no end that I couldn’t detect its velvet texture through my shirt. I’d do anything for the opportunity to stroke my fingers across every inch of her. I’ll admit I’m completely crazed for Cydnee’s body and now that I’ve realized there’s also a genuine sweetness beneath that - what’s the word - coquettish facade, I’m totally lost.

  I want to claim her, possess her, and make her mine. But I’ve got a niggling damn feeling that if she ever belonged to me I could never give her up. Then her Daddy would surely come after both of us. Which is why I had to button it up and reel it all the way in. This girl is totally out of bounds.

  I call my man Adam in and hand him a huge bowl of pasta and a stack of bowls so the guys can take turns to eat, out in one of the dining rooms. He gives me a cock-eyed look when Cydnee offers him salad.

  “Real men don’t eat salad.” I tell her as I serve her some pasta and creamy sauce with the tongs then put some on my own plate.

  “What does that tell me about you?” She asks, full coquette mode returned.

  “That I don’t give a rat’s ass whether anyone thinks I’m a real man.”

  “I kind of gathered that. So can we eat in here at the island bar. It’s much cozier than the dining room.”

  “You bet. I’m all about dropping the formal.” I remind her, referring to our earlier convo. Wow, was that only today? I feel like we’ve been living together in this house forever. If only we were. Here alone, together, making a life. I pull myself out of the fantasy zone. Because after all when have I ever lived with a woman, in a real commitment? Never, that’s when.

  “What business is your father in?” I ask, casually, like I’m making dinner chit chat rather than delving into how much she knows about him.

  “Um, construction, transportation, stuff like that.”

  “All the most lucrative businesses.”

  “Daddy’s a smart man.”

  He sure is.

  I watch her twirl spaghetti around her fork like an expert and transfer it to her mouth. As she parts her lips, her eyes instinctively travel up to mine and I hold her there while she wraps that luscious mouth around the shaft on her fork and slowly sucks it off. While she chews I’m fighting back the activity in my pants. I try to refocus on my own food.

  “And what about you? Shouldn’t you be in college?” I continue. It’s so damn relaxing, sitting at the counter beside her, sharing a meal, we could be any couple talking about their lives. Except we aren’t - I have to keep reminding myself not to get too comfortable.

  “I chose not to go. What’s the point?” She pouts a little then pulls her lip back in, as though she remembered to be a grown up. It’s kind of cute.

  “It’s supposed to be an experience isn’t it? Best years of your life. Make all the friends you’ll ever need.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Me?” I give a little chuckle. “Nope. Not really my thing. I’m more what you call the entrepreneur type - many of the successful ones skipped traditional education.”

  “So when were the best years of your life?” She inquires.

  “Still to come.” I tell her with a meaningful grin.

  When we finish eating, Cydnee jumps down from her barstool to clear the dishes before I can get to it. I doubt she’s ever done it before. She has to open various cupboard doors before she locates the concealed European dishwasher.

  “You don’t get to clean house much do you?” I grin.

  “Not in a house with like twenty five staff.” She says. “But I think it must be nice to look after your partner.”

  “Ha, millions of women across the country might disagree with you there.”

  If any woman other than Cydnee ever said something like that, I’d have taken off faster than an Olympic sprinter at the starter pistol. But coming from her, it’s just so sweet and genuine. And not what you generally hear out of the mouth of a billionaire’s only daughter.

  “I don’t understand this whole thing with equality. I’m more than happy staying at home all the time and if I had a man with me, aside from my father, and without all these men in suits on every doorpost, it would be so amazing.”

  “I get that it’s a drag having all this macho energy around all the time.”

  “It was.” She says. “But I think it depends on the energy. Sometimes it’s - you know - energizing.”

  I do know. Today feels like the first day of a new life. But how can it be a fulfilling one in the circumstances I’ve been dealt here?

  We’ve been sitting here in the kitchen for hours, chatting, having a glass of wine. It’s all so comfortable it’s almost like coming home. Cydnee slithers off the stool and my heart drops at the thought this is over and we’re going to our respective bedrooms for the night. Somehow that seems all wrong. Not to be picking her up and taking her to our room where I’d lay her across the bed and slowly unpeel her coverings until she’s spread bare before me.

  But Cydnee goes to the icebox and takes out a quart tub of creamy vanilla.

  “Italian.” She smiles.

  Once she manages to locate the cutlery drawer, she comes back with two spoons and climbs with a wiggle up on her stool. The dress shimmies up her legs and gives me glorious glimpse of her thighs. In any other world, I’d fall to my knees on the ground and push my face right between them, burying there for hours. In any other world than this house.

  “So no boyfriends then?” I ask, casual as fuck. Like it means nothing to me. So why am I waiting without inhaling for her to give me the answer?

  I pull the lid off the tub for her and she hands me a spoon. A pink bloom rises on her cheeks as she looks down, studying the ice cream intently.

  “Not really.” She murmurs softly. “Last year of high school there was a guy. No one special, I realize now.”

  For some reason my back tenses and I have to ask; “How come? Did he cheat you in some way?” I can’t imagine any guy needing another woman for the rest of his life if he managed to score Cydnee.

  “Oh no, I don’t think so. He was just terrified of Daddy. It wouldn’t have made for a comfortable Thanksgiving, the way Daddy made him squirm all the time.”

  “I guess it’s hard for any man to live up to a girl’s father and his expectations.”

  “I know right? But I think in Daddy’s c
ase it may be impossible. I can see myself living here with him always.”

  “And would that be so tough?”

  “I love him very much but sometimes I feel like I’m living in a gilded cage like a big ol’ bird.”

  I laugh at how she drops into a deep south accent for the last bit. She starts telling me how they studied Gone With The Wind at school and how she loved the main character, Scarlett, even though she was bratty. I’m listening closely and also watching the cold white creamy stuff going into her mouth and the way she licks her lips each time, her pink tongue circling around. Thankfully, my lower half is under the counter because I’ve got a boner fit to burst.

  “She, you know, just wanted a man to love her a lot.”

  “Did she find him?” I ask.

  “She’s a real tease and she even steals her sister’s fiancé.”

  “That would turn any man into a beast.”

  “But it’s because she loves him so much and isn’t sure if he loves her back. She needs him to tell her. She needs to know for sure, one hundred per cent that he’ll always be there only for her.”

  As Cydnee talks it’s as though she’s talking about herself as this character. And that she’s trying to tell me something about women. Especially when she tells me this dude in the story is a real possessive jealous type who can’t bear his chick wanting any other guy. I’m starting to get how some women can drive a man to that.

  “But they got together in the end of course?” I ask, suddenly eager to know.

  “They were so hot together but then it went tragically wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  “Now I’ve got you hooked.” She says with a flirty smile. “The passion is so intense. You ought to read it. “

  “I’m not much of a reader. “

  “Well they made it into a movie. and… actually we have a private cinema downstairs.”

  My blood starts to race. I can only imagine being seated next to her in the dark. How would I ever trust myself to even share popcorn when brushing her skin sends me into a frenzy?

  “Maybe we’ll watch it one night.” I defer the pleasure, not from choice though. “You know how to make popcorn?”

  “I know how to insert the package in the machine.” She giggles.

  The air between is pretty much sparking with electric energy. Both our heads are filled with imagery. Of watching a movie together, of fingers knocking as we reach for popcorn, of bits of ourselves touching under a blanket. As though she reads my mind, her eyelashes flutter. She’s holding the tip of the spoon to her lower lip and as she gazes at me, the melted ice cream drips down onto the tops of her breasts.

  Do not look down. Do not look… My eyes are dragged down to where the white creaminess all over her tits gets me rock hard.

  I can’t stop myself. Or maybe the only way to stop myself leaning in and licking the melted cream off her amazing tits which are obviously bare under the dress, is to reach out a fingertip and lift the goop from her lip. She parts slightly as though she wants to suck me in. And I can’t hold back any longer. I need to taste her. I want to own her full pouty mouth and I don’t care what chaos falls down on me for it.

  Her eyes urge me forward, dragging me into her orbit. My finger rests on her lip. Her gaze imprisoned in mine begs me. Her bare thighs squeeze together. Slowly my head is moving towards hers. When our mouths meet I know my hand is going to drop to her breast and wring her flesh in my grasp.

  Our mouths are inches apart. Her breath smells vanilla cream sweet mixed with a heady fragrance like orchids, which must be her perfume or shampoo. Her eyelids lower in anticipation. She’s mine now.

  A sharp cough behind us sends irritation jaggering through me. “The boss.” Adam grunts as I turn to rip him a new one for walking in unannounced. Mr Delgado appears right behind his shoulder.

  “Daddy.” Cydnee squeaks.

  “Is this a late dinner or a midnight snack.” He half growls. Without waiting for a response he glares at me with shotgun eyes. “When I told you to pay close attention to my daughter, eating late night ice cream tete-a-tete was not what I had in mind.”

  5

  Cydnee

  I run to hug my father and bury my face in his chest, partly to cover up the heat in my cheeks. He returns my embrace and asks me ten times if I’m okay, not suffering any post trauma type of thing from the attack.

  “I thought you wanted us to stay in separate locations for security.” I say.

  “I decided two teams of bodyguards would be better together than apart. And I see I arrived just in time.” He grunts. “And I thought I told you not to wear that dress.”

  “Quartz cooked dinner for everyone.” I tell him.

  “It seems there’s no end to Mr Quartz’s talents.” It’s a dangerous sensation when Daddy turns sarcastic.

  “Well, you know my culinary skills are lacking.” I say, trying to cool the tension in the room.

  “Perhaps a stay at a cooking school a friend of mine owns in Tuscany would be beneficial.” He says. “I was talking to her only today.” I’m about to resist when he interrupts with an order that cannot be ignored. “Go to your room now, it’s late.”

  He tells Quartz to follow him to his study. I loiter around on the staircase landing, hearing raised voices. I know Daddy’s mad and I just pray to all the gods that he doesn’t send Quartz away. I couldn’t bear it. If only we had a little more time alone together. It was so nice and now, not only is my pussy soaked and pulsating in agonized lust, we’ll never get to make out while watching Gone With The Wind which was pretty much a date as far as I could tell.

  In other times I’d have thrown myself on my bed in a brat attack but in the short time Quartz has been here, I’ve done some growing up. The way he looks at me makes me want to be a woman, a strong sensual woman worthy of a real man like him.

  He was one second away from taking my mouth and I want that so bad. I lie down on my bed and squirm side to side a bit, imagining how his kiss would have felt. The power of his tongue sweeping around every corner, nibbling down the side of my neck and sucking the cream I spilled on my tits. Yikes. Imagine if Daddy had arrived thirty seconds later. The way my clit twitches at the fantasy of Quartz’s mouth all over my body, it would almost have been worth it.

  Almost. I know tomorrow Daddy will bawl me out for letting a man get too close. But there is no way I’m going to be sent away to some dumb cooking school in Italy. No freaking way. Tonight all I can do is let my fingers and imagination go to work again.

  “There are men in Italy, Daddy.” I scream. “And from what I hear they’re pretty insistent about getting what they want. Just last year, Jill Dandridge, you remember her from twelfth grade, her father ran for Senator, well she disappeared in Italy on a trip to Venice to study Italian Renaissance art, or something like that, and they found her three weeks later with a gondolier.”

  I’m a grump because I had a lousy sleepless night, tossing and turning in damp sheets because my body was craving what it couldn’t have. If I had any clue what room Quartz was sleeping in I’d have snuck over there and not even cared about the security cameras in every hallway.

  And when I come out of Daddy’s office I decide to head to the pool, although now of course I have to wear a suit that may as well be a burkini for all the flesh I’m displaying. On the way down the stairs I run into Quartz coming up and my heart goes into freefall.

  “Good morning.” I whisper, in case my father or his men are close by.

  “Good morning Miss Delgado.” He replies without looking at me, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the steps. He continues on up to my father’s office and is told to close the door before more shouting breaks out. I listen for a while, not able to hear the words clearly because Daddy has his private rooms sound-proofed, but all the shouting comes from Daddy’s side and nothing at all from Quartz. Which is an extra disappointment because if any man could stand up to Daddy, surely it’s Quartz.

  I suppose his inco
me is more important than his desire.

  Or me.

  How could I mean anything to him when we were cut off before we got started? I’m sure he thinks I’m just a young and dumb rich kid not worth his effort. I feel strangely depressed about that. More than anything I wanted to experience a man like Quartz covering my body with his hands and lips and tongue. The weight of him bearing down on me is a delicious vision I can’t shake.

  I lie by the pool but I can’t keep still. My restless tossing side to side, front to back attracts the interest of the guards close by but I don’t care. I’m not interested in any man finding me attractive. If anything, I don’t want their attention. I only want to procure one man’s fascination but he’s switched off from me apparently. My father’s presence is just too intimidating.

  Dinner is exceptionally uncomfortable with Quartz standing guard over my father and I at the table. I thought I caught his eyes on me and I tried a secret smile but there was only the usual bodyguard steel gaze. Most of the time he has his back to me, looking out the French windows across the lawn because that’s where the first attack came from.

  “How was your day?” Daddy inquires.

  I can only tell him how boring it was, sitting around with nothing to do.

  “I looked into that cooking school in Tuscany.” He continues. “It’s expensive enough that it must be good.”

  I’m about to argue back and say I don’t want to go to Italy, but maybe I should go. If Quartz is going to be here, pointedly ignoring me every day, my heart, not to mention my clit, will detonate.

  “I’m going to watch Gone With The Wind after dinner.” I tell Daddy, in a loud enough voice that I hope Quartz gets my message.

  His rigid back doesn’t so much as offer me a twitch in response. It’s unbearable having him this close and not being able to touch him, or feel his touch on me. Just his one fingertip on my lip was agonizingly pleasurable and made my body crave more.