Chapter Fifteen #2
“I think I might keep you a while,” she sighed. “You’re very handy to have around.”
“Thank you,” he chuckled, smacking her bottom lightly, the wet sound echoing loudly. But she hardly budged.
Liam dumped her onto his bed and she went willingly.
He wrapped her wet hair and then took his time drying her warmly glowing body.
Devon’s sighs and blissful movements began to arouse him all over again as he ran the soft towels over every inch of her skin.
Her flawless, unbruised skin. No one who walked in and saw her would know she’d been beaten viciously just under an hour earlier.
Liam was going to give himself a passing once over with the towel, but she suddenly came awake and took a fresh towel from him in order to tend to him herself.
He remained standing and she easily came to him to brush over every hard muscle and delightfully furred inch of skin.
She stroked him everywhere, slowing her pace so she could enjoy every inch and every discovery.
She was aware that he was becoming more and more excited with every passing second.
Men made it easy for women to know these things, she thought with a smile as she dried his thrusting penis too.
She kneeled before him to run the towel down his legs and she heard him try to cut back a groan as his fingers pushed away the towel around her hair so, he could tangle them into the wet strands.
There was something about having a beautiful, highly sexed woman kneeling before him that just sent a man’s brain into sexual overload.
Especially when he knew the highly sexed wench was well aware of her effect on him.
Had she been ignorant, she wouldn’t have nuzzled her face against his rigid member and subsequently licked him. Not once, but several times.
“Forget it!” he growled suddenly as he jerked her to her feet and threw her back onto the bed. “Before you start in on me again, woman, you are going to have at least three orgasms. Got it?”
She got it. At least four times before he let her come anywhere near him to return the favor.
It wasn’t long after that she crashed utterly and completely.
The spikes and falls of adrenaline finally caught up with her, allowing him to extricate himself from her without hands of protest trying to pull him back.
The moment he had clothes on his back he was in contact with his people.
In the morning the guard on Devon’s home would be doubled, though perhaps not so obviously to her.
In the wings, he was mobilizing a few other things.
Devon’s war with the Morphates had just grown to a new level.
They’d become so bold as to stroll into her property.
How they had gotten past his people was an issue to be dealt with and examined later.
Otherwise, there was nothing more he could do until daylight, when he could interview her a bit more thoroughly about her attack.
The devil would be in the details, he knew.
And the best way for him to craft a force at her right hand would be to understand the tactics and nature of the beasts they were dealing with.
For a couple of days further into the week they fell into a strangely quiet sort of routine as Liam trained his team to use Devon’s new weapons.
Every night Devon would fall asleep exhausted in the arms of her human lover, always more and more aware that Liam satisfied her in ways she had never experienced before.
In the mornings she would be awakened by a soft kiss and whisper before he got out of bed to begin his workday.
Then he would roll her over and tuck her in warmly so she could fall back to sleep.
The routine developed a familiarity that brought her the first comfort and security she had felt since it became clear to her that Ambrose Clan was gunning for her.
She would spend the day at work, just as she always had; only now she looked forward to closing the day’s business.
She knew that soon Liam would supervise the shift changes and then come spend the evening with her before securing the house for the night.
At sunset every day she would open the drapes to her office and watch the dogs, or the ‘pups,’ as Liam called them, exercising on the south lawn with their trainers.
Liam would always be there, within sight, and he would always look up and see her there watching for him.
While Devon was feeling comforted by this routine, Liam was unsettled.
He was disturbed by how easily he was falling into a pattern that bordered on domestication, he who had thrived on the challenges every day brought him.
He ought to be more resistant to it, but he was happily panting after Devon like a well-trained puppy.
Every smile, every kiss became a reward.
His main crew had slowly but surely become aware that something was going on between the boss and the client.
It had somehow become a quietly accepted fact.
He’d been a little obvious about it, he supposed.
Also, he was working a bit out of character.
Normally he’d have sent his original insertion team on to secure her other offices, starting with the first one on her travel agenda.
But this time, he’d refused to send any of his key people to secure the London office, keeping them close for obvious reasons.
Usually he sent his own people because they were the ones he trusted best to get the job done, but instead he kept the entire primary team on Devon, disliking the idea of anyone else being responsible for her.
Still, they had accepted his decision as if he did it the same way every time.
Besides, her jet needed securing for the upcoming trip to London.
Or that was the immediate excuse he had used to try to explain his reluctance to part with Kellen, Inez, and the others.
He might as well not have bothered trying.
He could tell they all knew what was happening even though they never let on.
However, he knew his people. He’d never be seen being anything other than professional with clients.
But in Devon’s case, Liam’s people had suddenly become entirely too social.
Devon was on a first-name basis with the day crews; even the K-9 leaders and the dogs were fawning over her.
He’d never seen the shepherds fawn over anyone other than the NHK family before.
They were even wary of their fellow workers from time to time, but with Devon?
Puppies. Somehow, with Devon, they immediately got over their natural suspicion of Morphates, sensing something in her nature that let them know she was friend, not foe.
They rolled and frolicked around her whenever she stepped onto the lawn.
He supposed those were good terms to describe the human soldiers’ behavior too.
Frolicking and rolling, fawning happily, making friends.
In a nutshell, getting entirely too comfortable.
Yet, how could he correct the problem when he was the most comfortable of them all?
He hadn’t slept in his own bed almost since the night he’d arrived there.
Even the realization made him smile when he shouldn’t be at all happy about his own deportment.
On the plus side, Devon hadn’t left the estate for any more ‘business meetings,’ so he hadn’t had to deal with that danger.
Liam watched her office window.
The sun was setting earlier every day, but like clockwork, at the point where the last true moments of full daylight still lingered, she pulled open the drapes.
Still, he smiled when he saw her appear as usual.
He ought to discourage anything that smacked of routine, but he’d come to enjoy seeing her like this every day just as he was winding up with one shift and about to debrief another.
Autumn was digging in. The trees around them would grow bare and make it ever harder for a would-be assassin to sneak up on the property.
A normal assassin, in any event. Devon’s description of her attacker had been notification of a game changer.
He’d been brooding for days on how to see an assailant that could blend into its background.
Were there more like her? Devon didn’t think it was likely.
She explained a little more about the Morphate generations, spinning a wild card into this whole mess that he frankly could have done without.
He could see she was wearing a rather conservative outfit of a business skirt and matching cream-colored blouse.
Conservative by her standards, at least. It was a mid-thigh miniskirt, showing off her incredible legs, and with the sunlight hitting her just right, the silk blouse showed the shadows of her skin color and the fact that she never wore a bra.
He had a running fantasy involving that window, a whole lot fewer men and animals around, and a striptease under glass, so to speak.
She was already a tease, always looking so damned desirable without trying, and then each night when she saw him at last, he would see a change ripple through her.
Then she would be trying, and it would show.
Everything about her body would tune toward him, tempting him until he checked his damned watch to find out how long before he could secure the shift change and get up to her.