Four
JENNA
“Do you have a hairy chest?”
“What?”
Remus frowns and slowly shakes his head. “Ah, no.”
“Abs?”
His eyes shoot wide. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, you feel pretty solid under here. It’s quite impressive,” I say, ignoring his reaction and the way he subtly thrusts his hips towards me as I continue blindly exploring his powerful chest, “but would you say you’re cut, jacked, or ripped?”
Now he just looks confused. Grabbing my wrists, he removes my hands from his body, but he doesn’t push me away. That’s encouraging at least, especially considering what I’m about to suggest to the good colonel. The incredibly sexy, hot, manly colonel.
The quickly getting annoyed colonel. “What is happening right now? Why are you so interested in my chest?”
“Not just your chest.” I step back from his warm presence and force a laugh to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work. “I had an idea. It’s completely insane and probably won’t work, but here goes.”
Before I can chicken out, I yank my tank top over my head and toss it on the floor, then take advantage of Remus’s confusion and throw myself at him, hoping he’s just like every other man out there: horny and opportunistic.
Just my luck, I get the one and only gentleman. Or maybe I misread him earlier and he wasn’t staring at my tits? Either way, before my lips get anywhere near his, he gently sets me away from him.
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to do that,” he says, his gravelly voice softening as he takes off his shirt and drapes it around me. As tight as the garment was on him, it dwarfs me. Remus pulls the edges together, hiding my body completely. “I’ll help you. You have my word.”
His compassion makes my knees weak and tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I don’t have time to feel this way.
That damn clock is ticking away, and time is running out.
“You don’t understand,” I tell him, trying very hard not to snap at this man who has shown me my first drop of kindness in over three years.
“The demonstration—” This is so humiliating.
“I don’t just have to show the board members my new designs,” I say, feeling my whole body flush with embarrassment.
“I have to… prove viability of concept.”
Remus’s gaze darts to B.O.B., then back to me, his dark eyes wide and his lips parting in shock. “I’m pretty sure I know what that means, but put it in plain English for me anyway, just to make sure I understand you completely.”
I moisten my lips and stare up at him, swallow hard. “I have to have sex with B.O.B.”
His nostrils flare. “And they watch while you do this?” he growls, his eyes narrowing to slits, disgust written clearly across his face.
I hang my head in shame. “Yes.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, and even while looking down, I can see him anchor his hands on his hips, his thick fingers flexing.
“Well I guess that explains all the redacted files we found. Kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, and… I’m not even sure what to call this,” he says, waving a hand at B.O.B.
“If this ever got out, it would bankrupt them.” Warm fingers cup my cheek and lift my face until I’m staring up at him again.
“So let’s make that happen,” he says, his smile reassuring. “Let’s get out of here.”
For a moment, I’m so caught up in Remus’s sexy grin and bright eyes that I almost forget what’s about to happen, forget my idea, but then my survival instincts kick back in and I shake my head. “We can’t go. Not yet.”
Remus folds his arms over his expansive chest. His biceps threaten to rip through the sleeves of his undershirt. “Why?”
“The demonstration. If I’m not here for it, they’ll lock down the entire facility until I’m found. Only, I can’t give the demonstration because I couldn’t attach B.O.B.’s new… ah, equipment.”
He scratches his head. “Sweetheart, I can’t help you with that.”
“Actually, you can. That’s why I was so interested in your chest. And the rest of you,” I say, my cheeks near bursting into flame they’re so damn hot. “Listen, I know what I’m about to propose is crazy and completely inappropriate, but it’ll buy us time.”
“Oh?” One dark brown brow wings up over those mesmerising eyes.
“You can be B.O.B.”
A burst of laughter escapes him, but then he frowns. “You’re serious?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah. Tell them you need more time. Tell them there’s an issue with the new equipment.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. Any failures on my part are dealt with swiftly.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Thorne will send security to ransack my room and remove anything deemed a luxury or a distraction, anything that could possibly pull my focus away from my primary concern. Making him money,” I add before he can ask, then look at the clock for what feels like the millionth time in the last ten minutes.
Shit. Has it really been ten minutes since Remus snuck in here?
Shaking my head, I back away. “I don’t have time to argue this.
The show starts in less than five minutes.
” Then I whisper, “Please help me get out of here.”
Remus closes his eyes and shakes his head, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, then slowly lets it slip free.
It’s sexy as fuck and makes me wish I’d met him under better circumstances.
Maybe in a pub on a Saturday night, or at a barbeque with mutual friends.
You know, if I ever went out, or had friends.
Then he laughs again, only it’s more of a chuckle this time, and the next thing I know his arms are around me and he’s hugging me tight and nuzzling my cheek, teasing my skin with his feather-light touch. “Okay, sweetheart. I promise I’ll get you out,” he purrs. “Right after I get you off.”
My breath leaves me on a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Immediately, he steps back again and reverts to soldier mode. “Tell me what you need.”
“Hide him, his cock, and your weapons in the bathroom,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder at B.O.B. “And be careful!” I add as Remus picks the bot up like it weighs nothing at all and dumps him in my tiny bathroom. “That’s my life’s work you’re manhandling.”
He shuts the bathroom door and stares at me for a moment, then says, “You know we can’t take him with us, right?”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” I say, sighing, then shrug. “Good thing I have everything stored on a backup drive.”
Remus smirks. “Okay. What now?”
Slipping my arms through the sleeves of the shirt Remus draped around me, I don’t bother to button it up—it’s all coming off in a couple minutes anyway—but it makes it easier to talk to him like this.
“Well, obviously you look very different from the bots they’re used to seeing, so I’m going to have to sell them on my new design, as it were.
Which means I need to know what you look like.
Under your clothes.” When his eyebrows slide up again and those distracting lips form an even more distracting grin, I grit my teeth and straighten my spine.
Now is not the time to be caught off guard.
“Look, I need to know what you look like under your clothes, because if I describe you wrong, they’re either going to think I’m an idiot or they’ll realise something’s up.
And I can tell you now, they know I’m not an idiot. So, what am I working with here?”
Remus’s grin widens, like he finds the entire situation ridiculously amusing—it’s spectacularly sexy, if I’m being honest, that he can take all this in his stride and not freak out—then quickly and efficiently unfastens his trousers and pulls up his undershirt.
Saliva pools in my mouth as he reveals a hairless stomach packed with solid-looking muscle. Jacked. He’s definitely jacked. His upper chest is also hair-free and taut. His skin is tanned, his nipples small and brown and flat. I want to lick them. Bite them.
As if they have a mind of their own, my thighs press together and my clit throbs. I know it’s too much to hope he didn’t notice my movements when his gaze flicks down my body and his grin slowly morphs into a sensual smile.
Fuck. Me.
The urge to throw myself at this man again is getting stronger by the second.
I mentally slap myself. Down, girl. Now’s not the time.
Next he opens the flaps of his trousers and shoves down the front of his briefs. The sight that greets me has my jaw on the floor and my pulse racing like its training for the Olympics.
Ho. Ly. Shit.
His cock. Oh my fucking Lord, his cock.
As Remus wraps his meaty fist around the hard, thick length jutting out from between his thighs, my mouth runs dry, and I have to swallow hard against the emotion stuck in my throat.
What is wrong with me? I work with dicks every other day of the week.
Bigger dicks even than the one I’m currently staring at like a condemned man stares at his last meal.
But all I can think about is reaching out and touching him, stroking my fingers along his steely length of perfection and gripping him tight. Pulling him towards me, towards the bed. Lying back and letting him have his way with me.
Geez, I need to get laid.
By a man, not a machine.
Because it really doesn’t matter how damn good I am at my job. There is no substitute for the feel of real flesh, heated by real blood and powered by a real heart. My fingers rub at the base of my throat as if of their own accord, a sexual response I can’t seem to control.
I want him.
I want Remus.
“Seen enough?” he asks in that deliciously growly voice that does nothing to hide his humour. “Because if you keep staring at me like that, we’re gunna start this show early.”
I swallow thickly and turn away to hide my growing desire—and the growing wet patch in my panties—then take a desperately needed breath. “Yes. Thank you. You can get dressed.”
I am in so much trouble.