Chapter 2
COLE
She's still staring up at me, her breath caught, pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. My hand remains braced on the wall above her head as every cell in my body strains toward her.
I've never been this close to her, so close I can see the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, so close I can hear her swallow hard.
Two years.
Two fucking years of keeping my hands to myself, burying my desires, and never crossing that line.The line I'm about to obliterate.
Her pulse flutters visibly at the hollow of her throat. I watch it, fascinated by this tangible evidence of her desire. For me. Not her bodyguard, not her employee. Me.
"Kiss me, Cole." Meredith lifts her chin and raises her eyebrow. "That's an order."
Something inside me snaps. The last thread of my control, probably. The one I've been clinging to since the day Dex handed me Meredith's file.
I was reviewing security plans in my office when my brother dropped the folder on my desk. "Potential client. Big one. Robert Ashton wants security for his daughter."
I flipped it open, expecting to see the usual details. Instead, I found myself staring at a photo of the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Dark wavy hair framing a face. Warm, intelligent eyes. The kind of curves that make a man's hands itch to trace them.
"She's refusing a full detail," Dex explained. "They compromised on one bodyguard who has to stay with her 24/7."
I knew I should pass it to someone else for several reasons. One, taking a personal protection assignment after years behind a desk was a bad idea. Two, I had several reliable men who could do the job.
But the thought of someone else keeping her company burned through me.
"I'll handle it myself," I said, already knowing I was fucked.
Now, Meredith's order hangs between us. "That's an order." As if I need any more prompting.
Fuck it.
My hand slides from the wall to cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. Her skin is soft, impossibly so, lips parting on a sharp intake of breath.
"Yes, ma'am."
The first touch of her lips against mine is electric. Soft and warm and perfect. For half a second, I try to be gentle, to ease into this, to not overwhelm her. That lasts until she makes a small sound in the back of her throat and fists her hands in my shirt, pulling me closer.
My control shatters. I press her against the wall, my body flush against hers, and deepen the kiss. Her mouth opens under mine, inviting me in, and I accept without hesitation. She tastes like everything I've wanted and denied myself.
Her hands slide up from my chest to grip my shoulders, then one moves to the back of my neck. Her nails scrape lightly against my skin, and I nearly growl at the sensation.
I tangle my fingers in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss further. She responds with equal hunger, arching against me, making those small sounds that are driving me insane, her tongue tangling with mine.
For two years, I've imagined this. For two years, I've tried not to. And none of my imagination came close to the reality of Meredith pressed against me, kissing me like she's been waiting just as long.
I remember every moment of torture from the past two years. Every time I had to stand stone-faced while she unknowingly tested my control.
The first time I saw her swimming laps in her pool at midnight. She wore a simple black bikini, nothing provocative by design, but on her curves, it was devastating. Water streaming down her skin, her hair slicked back. I had to turn away, focus on the perimeter, count backward from one hundred.
There was also the charity gala six months ago.
She wore a red dress that hugged every curve, the back dipping low to reveal the elegant line of her spine.
I was positioned behind her as she walked to her table, watching every man in the room eye her with appreciation.
By the end of the night, I nearly broke three fingers and mentally tortured a dozen more.
Then, that morning, she bent over her desk in that cream silk blouse, the one that gaped just enough to give me a glimpse of the swell of her breasts and the edge of her lace bra. I excused myself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face for five minutes straight.
More cold showers since meeting her than in my entire life combined.
But now she's in my arms, pressing herself against me like she can't get close enough, her mouth hot and demanding under mine. My hand slides from her hair down her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her black dress.
I force myself to pull back, needing to see her face, to make sure this is real. Her eyes are dark, lips swollen from my kiss. A flush spreads across her cheeks.
Jesus Christ. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"If you stop now, I swear I'll fire you," she says, still clutching my shoulders.
A laugh escapes me. "You'll fire me for stopping, but not for kissing you senseless against a wall?"
"Exactly." She nods. "Though I reserve the right to fire you if you don't do it again immediately."
"You know why I stopped?" I brush my thumb across her lower lip and tug it down. The little menace responds by sucking it. Fuck. "Because once I claim you as mine, Meredith, the next man who touches you will lose his fingers."
Her eyes widen, but instead of backing away or telling me this is a mistake, she just says, "Okay."
I search her face for doubt, for hesitation, and find none. "Do you hear me, Meredith? I do not share. If you're mine, you're mine until the day I die."
She holds my gaze, a soft smile plays in the corner of her mouth. "I heard you the first time, Cole."
"And you're okay with it?"
"I mean, I didn't think you'd go through with the kiss, but here we are." Her fingers start tracing patterns on my shoulder. "Tell me, how long have you wanted this?"
"Since the moment I saw your photo. Since the day I walked into your father's office and realized the photo didn't come close to doing you justice."
Her mouth curves into a full smile. "That long?"
"That long." I run my hands down her sides, feeling the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. "How long for you?"
"Since you walked through the door. All tall and serious and..." She waves a hand at my general person. "All of this."
I grin at her gesture. "All of what?"
"Don't make me stroke your ego, Farrell. It's already big enough."
"Among other things," I whisper against her ear, enjoying the way she shivers.
"Oh my God." She laughs, shoving at my chest without any real intent to push me away. "I knew you'd be like this."
"Like what?"
"Demanding. Possessive. A tad egoistic."
“ A tad?” I tease, raising an eyebrow. "Having second thoughts?"
"Not a single one."
"For the record, Meredith, I can back up my ego. It's not inflated with hot air."
Instead of answering, she pulls me down for another kiss, this one slower but no less intense. "I've been having extremely inappropriate thoughts about you, Cole. It's about time you caught up."
I laugh against her mouth, my hand sliding to her ass, something I've wanted to do for a long time, and pull her against me. Her mouth forms an 'o' at the bulge in my pants. "I've been having plenty of inappropriate thoughts. I just had the good sense to keep them to myself."
"Until now."
"Until now." I trail kisses along her jaw and bite her earlobe lightly. "Hard to keep anything to myself when you're looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want to climb me like a tree."
She blushes but doesn't deny it. "I've been very subtle."
"About as subtle as a brick through a window."
She gasps in mock outrage. "I have been the picture of professional decorum."
"Says the woman who just ordered me to kiss her."
"That was a momentary lapse in judgment."
"Want me to stop?" I ask, pulling back slightly.
She yanks me back. "Don't you dare."
Our lips meet again, hunger reigniting instantly. Her hands slide under my jacket, feeling the warmth of my body through my shirt. I grip her hips, lifting her slightly to align our bodies better.
When we break for air, I rest my forehead against hers. "What about Brian?"
Her eyes, which had been half-closed, snap open. "Oh, he can fuck right off."
I blink, momentarily stunned. I've never heard Meredith swear. Not once. Not even when she stubbed her toe on that coffee table in Milan and nearly broke it.
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. "Did you just—"
"Yes, I did." She looks both embarrassed and defiant. "And I meant it. I'm not marrying Brian Percy. I'd rather eat glass."
"Good." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "Because I wasn't planning on letting that happen."
"Is that so? And how were you going to prevent it?"
"I have my ways."
"Care to elaborate?"
"No." I kiss her again, deep and thorough, feeling her melt against me. When I pull back, she looks dazed. "But, just trust me, he wouldn't have gotten anywhere near you."
Ten years ago, when Dex and I founded Farrell Security Solutions, I promised myself I'd never let emotions interfere with a job.
It was a clean business plan. I'd handle the operations, train the operatives, make the deals.
Dex would manage the client relationships.
I wouldn't do personal protection assignments after the first couple of years.
All that went out the window the moment I saw Meredith's photo.
"You know," she says, tracing a finger along my throat, "we're still in the hallway."
I glance around, suddenly remembering we're standing outside her apartment door. "So we are."
Without warning, I bend and scoop her into my arms. She lets out a small squeak of surprise, her arms automatically fold around my neck.
"Cole! What are you doing?"
"Carrying you inside."
"I can walk!"
"I'm aware."
"I'm heavy."
I give her a look that I hope conveys exactly how ridiculous that statement is. "I lift weights, darling. I’m strong."
She bites her lip and looks away. I know where her mind is because I saw how she reacted when her vicious aunt laughingly asked if Meredith had stayed too long by the dessert station again.
Or when cockroach-faced Trevor told her to lay off the cupcakes and not make it hard for her father to find her a match.
There were even Meredith's so-called friends who made fun of her curves, curves I am dying to explore with my mouth, my hands, and my body.
"I've carried wounded soldiers in full gear through active combat zones," I shift her slightly to reach for her door. "I deadlift twice my body weight for fun. You weigh nothing to me."
Her eyes search mine for a moment before she relaxes in my arms and nuzzles against my neck. "Well, when you put it that way."
I punch in her security code one-handed—a skill I perfected over years of field work—and push the door open. As we cross the threshold, she leans up to press a kiss to the underside of my jaw.
I kick the door closed behind us, sealing us into her apartment.
"Not that I'm complaining," she says, "but are you going to put me down anytime soon?"
"Not planning on it, no."
Her laugh vibrates against my chest as we enter our own world, where nothing exists but this moment, this feeling, the weight of her in my arms, and the promise of what comes next.
Because I'm a man of my word. And I’m not a sharer.
No one else will have her but me.