Chapter Twenty-Two

Jon paced the kitchen. They'd been back in SoHo for hours. The trip back to the city was about as uncomfortable as you could get. Thankfully each of them had an active blackberry that filled the silence. In fact, he had a pile of messages waiting for him as soon as he walked in the door.

He tuned back into the conversation as the charity schpiel ran longer than usual. "Look, Mark. You know you have the full backing of the Soul, but I need--" his words cut off as he passed the door and MacKenzie arched back, her thigh rotating in slow circles as she scissor kicked then came back up on her knee to do it again.

Do not look, she’s your bodyguard for Christ’s sake...He'd already been haunted by the shower incident.

Muscles gleamed under the spandex/cotton mix while she lowered herself into another position. The only thing distracted him from all that was going on, was the thing that was saving him.

"Huh?"

"Are you there?"

Jon swallowed, dragging his eyes away from the lithe form of her and started out the window. Brick, much better. Sweet fuck. "Yeah, I'm here. Set up a meet with Amy, okay? She's running the day to day planning. We'll donate what we can and we'll help you run a function. That's the best I can do until after the election. I'm booked for personal appearances until Obama gets into office.

"Sure of your guy this time, huh Jon?"

Jon laughed, his gaze tracking back to Kenzie. "Only thing I'm sure of these days, Mark. I hope he has your vote too."

"No need to stomp for me, Jon. I'm with you."
Jon smiled, opening the fridge for a bottle of water. "Glad to hear it. Okay, I'll talk to you in a few weeks."

He tucked his iPhone into his shorts and gluggled down half of his bottle before he made it out of the kitchen. Christ, she was limber. Don't look at her. But it was too late, she was on her knees, her back arched as her ass lifted into the air with her chin pressed into her hands. Fuck. He sat down at his desk, angling his laptop to block her, but kept peeking over the top.

The way she extended her leg and rotated her hip made his mouth water. As she tucked her knee in close to her body then extended again he groaned into his bottle, finishing it off. He tapped on his keyboard but didn't see a damn thing on his screen. In fact, he could have been reading Russian for all he knew.

She finally kneeled, lowering her butt to her ankles and curled forward in the last of her stretches. He fucking tortured himself with watching her do this daily and yet he never learned. Never went into his room, never found something else to do.
Because you're an ass. Or was it more like you like her ass? Jon thunked his forehead on the table.

She exhaled deeply and popped herself up off the ground, shaking out her tension. It’s just what she needed. The morning had brought about interesting events, she’d been up early and done a perimeter check which brought about finding the envelope left at the back door. Filled with photographs of them kissing on the beach earlier that day. They were being watched.

It wasn’t news to her obviously, but it just drummed home the need that they had to be extra careful. She felt a hell of a lot better that they were back in the apartment, with a decent level of security. She’d failed to tell Jon about the photographs, thinking it was best she try and get them scanned for prints first. She spun run at the thunk behind her, and chuckled at Jon face down on his laptop.

“Rough day already?” She reached up and clasped her hands above her head and stretched.

If a constant hard on equaled rough, then yeah. "I'll be glad when the Obama thing is over and he's elected." He tried not to stare at the heart shaped sweat stain that bloomed from her breasts.

She swiped her water bottle off the table and took a healthy sip. She wiped her hand across her mouth and nodded. "Yeah, seems like he's a popular boy. Just what this country needs in my personal opinion."

"I'm banking on it, literally." He stood, pacing away from her. The light sheen of sweat on her shoulders and the crisscrossing t-back bra she wore under the oversized tanktop was going to be the death of him. It wasn't sexy dammit. It flattened her breasts, not made them...he groaned and went back to the fridge. No worries on his eight glasses of fucking water today. He walked back into the room with half the bottle gone again and sucked back a string of curses as she swiped at the sweat on her neck with the bottom of her shirt. The light indents of her six pack tightened as she bent over, then straightened up. She dropped the shirt and he wished for death.

She needed a shower and she needed to get ready for the next function on his docket which was tonight at some fancy to do party. Thank god she’d been vigorous keeping up her training schedule, all these parties could easily take a toll on her waist line.

It wasn't the dresses she was dreading tonight, it was the heat between them. There would be no way to physically escape it. No combat training in the world had her prepared for this. It was for the best they stayed like this. She had no choice. Least that's what she kept telling herself as her eyes dropped down the long lean line of his torso. His pecks stretched out the black cotton material showing off tight, damn tight muscles.

Her eyes fell further down to the tight grey shorts he was wearing, and quickly away when she spotted the obvious rise in his shorts. Shit.

"Uh, so what time do we have to leave?" she asked taking a step back.

His brow arched at her retreat. He caught her eyes dropping low then quickly meeting his own. Well, well. He stepped forward. "We've got some time." Making quick work of the distance between them, he smirked. "Any ideas?" Be damned morality.

Her head snapped up to meet his eyes, twinkling with something...something she wanted. She needed to break it, “we eat? They always have such small helpings at those dinners.”

"I'm only hungry for one thing." He stepped forward again, the predatory instinct racing in his blood when she took another back. "Could be salty," he took another step, his toes buried into the plush shag of the area rug near his couch. "Or sweet."

Her heart hammered loudly in her throat as she swallowed. Jesus Christ, he wasn't going to give up on this. There was only so much a woman could do to fight her instincts. Instincts that involved her hands in that hair and mouth on that neck.
The next step she took connected her back with the wall. He's just a man, get a grip. You've been intimidated by much worse. Her eyes widened and her stanch stiffened. "Jon," Christ she couldn't even speak properly. She winced as it came out like a simpering woman.

He braced a hand over her head, looking down at her. "Kenzie," he said on a low voice. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes, then down to that blasted heart on her chest. He traced his fingertip along the line of the oversized tank as it dipped low along her bra. He smiled slowly as her nipples tightened under the red cotton. "Cold?"

The hairs on her arms prickled as she shook her head. She was anything but cold, and evidently she was now speechless as well. Her toes curled into her sneakers, the memory of what he felt like washed over her. He was here for the taking. "No". Did she mean no she wasn't cold? Or no for him to stop, the meaning to the word became a blur as her nipples tightened again as he moved within an inch from her face.

His chest rested against hers as he propped himself away from her...barely, with his other hand. "No?" He rubbed lightly from side to side, watching as her jaw clench. "I could have sworn you were cold."

She bit her bottom lip, so she was defenceless now? One swift kick to his balls would end this. So why the fuck couldn't she do it? She tried to merge into the wall behind her unsuccessfully.

You need to stop this, her eyes met his...stop...this...her hands curled into fists, the friction of his body against hers was making her ache in places they shouldn't. "Jon, I've got to go and get ready..."

"Need any help with zippers?" he said against her mouth, but still didn't touch her.

Her hands pressed against his chest but he didn't budge. His strength held its ground. She closed her eyes and waited. Maybe he'd go away, god make him go away. She couldn't do this much longer.

He could push it. He knew if he just stepped over the line just a little more, he'd have her wrapped around him. Finally. As she swallowed with difficulty, unable to look at him, he stepped away. "Go."

The void of his body leavings hers was strange, now she was cold. She held out her hand, "Wait Jon" when he stopped the self control she had snapped inside her of her. She dragged him closer to him and took. Her mouth latched to his swallowing his breath as her hands wound around his neck and her fingers inched up into his hair.

Thank fuck Jon dragged her up against him, the kiss was harsh and out of control. He didn't care, he just needed a taste. Something, anything to tide him over. His cock was stone hard and he was going to end up pounding out an orgasm in the shower, he knew it now. But goddamn it, he'd take what he could get.

His fingers threaded into her sweaty hair, tugging out the ugly little knot she had it in on top of her head. The silky strands would around his wrist, his arms and her unique flavor roared in his head.

She moaned into his mouth, this is what this had come to. She fought for control in the kiss as it deepened and his knee came up between her legs pinning her back against the wall.

He tasted dark and sweet with a hint of mint from the chewing gum he'd been popping in his mouth for the last hour. She wanted all of him, she'd lost the capacity to care at this moment that this was wrong. This was against everything she stood for.

His mouth left hers, and she by instinct tipped her head back letting his lips slide down her neck. Hot and wet, they left a trail of destruction in their path. Sweet jesus, she wanted him to take her, right here and right now, be damned the consequences. She dragged her gaze back to his, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Lust was replaced with something deeper, something richer--something she knew she wanted but couldn't have with him right now. "God, no..." she pushed him back and cupped his face. "I want this, more than anything I've wanted in a long time. But I can't, as your bodyguard I just can't put your life at risk again..."

She removed herself completely "When this is all over maybe we can then, but I- I just can't," she turned and jogged up the stairs before she even had a chance to change her mind.

"Son of a--" he slapped his open palm against the wall and the resounding clash of nervendings dragged him back to reality. "Fuck." he growled and plowed his fingers through his hair. He couldn't even be mad at her or call her eight kinds of a tease because he understood responsibility much more than even a father, husband and CEO should. Responsibility had been drilled into him until he didn't know anything else.

He dropped into the plush leather couch that usually gave him some modicum of relief, but not even a slice of that comfort could help him now. He swiped the magazines off the coffee table and resisted the urge to upend the stupid thing. Kicking it instead, it banged into the hutch and Mac's blackberry spun arcross the room.

"Nice," he muttered and stood to pick it up.

He cringed as it went through a smear of dust bunnies from under the table. Man, he needed to have the cleaning crew in again. The city dragged in more dust and dirt...he rubbed it against his shorts and the face lit up as another message came through. His thumb hovered over the accept button automatically, so used to answering his own iPhone, but his finger stopped. It wasn't his.

He climbed the stairs to give it to Kenzie just in case something was wrong and it buzzed in his hand again. A third message popped up Urgent-re your pictures found at beach


Well fuck. What pictures? He pressed his thumb on the send button. Fuck that. Send me the pictures over by urgent courier, I’ll scan them today. Keep him close, and I’ve closed out the family problem.

Family problem? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And what pictures were they talking about?

The door opened wide and he looked up, her blackberry in his hand. "What the fuck was the family problem and why don't I know about it?"