Trace needed her with a desperation that unsettled him, and the tremor of vulnerability in Aimee’s voice nearly undid him. The combination was potentially lethal, and having sex with her would be emotionally risky. He might start thinking about a future with her, and the past had taught him the stupidity of that. “I would never reject you, my sweet Aimee.”

They’d already crossed one line that they shouldn’t have. He dared not cross the biggest. “You need to go to bed.”

“But—”

“Aimee, we aren’t going to conflate BDSM and sex.” He meant that, and it was an excellent excuse, one that didn’t involve him baring himself, admitting how much he desired her and how fucking enticing she was.

He slid her off his lap, ignoring the incessant throbbing in his dick. “I’m putting you to bed.”

“I’m fine.” She stiffened her spine.

Fuck. Hurting her emotionally hadn’t been part of the plan. Trace scooped her up, despite her small kicks of protest. “I’m your bodyguard.” He needed the reminder as much as she did.

“I can walk.”

Striding down the hallway holding on to the wiggling, angry, beautiful woman was more difficult than he would have believed. “Keep still before I sling you over my shoulder.” Where he could slap her ass for real. His sacrifice was for both of them.

In the bedroom, he placed her on the edge of the mattress, and she stood the moment he stepped back.

“That will be all, Agent Romero. Thank you.”

He plowed his hand into his hair. “Aimee…”

“I’ve had enough of bossy, dictatorial men who think they know what’s best for me and want me to conform to their wishes. I appreciate the reminder. Good night.”

Goddamn it. “It doesn’t need to be this way.”

“Out.” Naked, hair mussed, nipples erect, ass red, and seductively smelling of sex, she pointed at the door.

He sighed. If he’d made a different choice, she would be wrapped around him, the softness of her sighs filling the air.

Instead, he was banished. And she was hurt.

She thought he was a jerk, but that was better than the alternative.

He left the room, closing the door behind him with a click.

In the dining room, Eureka glared for a moment before turning his back.

Restless, Trace grabbed a flashlight from the countertop and headed into the backyard. The neighbor’s dog growled softly, but it didn’t bark like crazy. After completing a sweep, he went back inside, locked the door, then headed out the front to check in with the team.

Riley slid down the driver’s window of the SUV parked up the block. “What’s up, Romero?”

“Double-checking.”

“Howdy,” Bree Mallory said, putting down her energy drink. “We’ve been talking about it. We’re willing to split the money with you.”

Trace frowned. “What money?”

“If you help us figure out Ms. Inamorata’s first name.”

“Generous of you.” Because he knew how grueling the hours of surveillance could be, he grinned.

“Well, we know for a fact it’s not Donna, Ruth, Julie, or Louise, right? She seems more like a Prudence or Catherine or Christine. Something more formal, you know?” Mallory guessed.

“But her sister is Aimee. Informal,” Riley countered. “So maybe it’s a top-ten name, like Jennifer or Jessica. Maybe Emily.”

“But look how Aimee is spelled—it’s not traditional.”

“Maybe it’s like E-m-i-le-e.”

“No one would do that.” Riley looked at Trace. “I mean, right?”

How many times had the duo had the same argument? He started to move away, then turned and came back. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

“No chance,” Mallory promised, leaning over Riley. “I’m more frightened of Inamorata than I am of Hawkeye himself.”

“See, you keep proving that Mensa IQ,” Riley said.

“Night,” Mallory called out.

Riley smothered a yawn.

“You’re off at eleven, right?”

“Then for two long, glorious days. Laurents and Barstow will be filling in.”

“Enjoy your weekend.”

“I’m thinking of taking in a Rockies game, with too damn many beers.”

“After sitting on your rear for five days?” Mallory scoffed.

“Well, what’re you doing?”

“Getting my nails done. Being pampered.”

They bickered more than any married couple. Trace rapped his knuckles on the roof, then left the two of them alone. After lifting a hand to the other team, Trace went back inside the house. Eureka looked at him without squawking, and everything was silent from Aimee’s bedroom.

Tonight, for the first time, Trace would have traded his overnight with someone else. Staying on the couch while Aimee was snuggled up in her bed counted as cruel and unusual punishment.

Providing protective detail had never been harder.

Through the years, Trace had been assigned to plenty of challenging clients, and in some damn miserable places.

But nothing had exacted this kind of emotional toll.

The easy camaraderie he and Aimee had developed had vanished, buried beneath an avalanche of tension.

Ever since he sent her to bed alone three days prior, ice had frosted every word she uttered. He still made her meals, and she ate them in her office instead of at the dining room table. They ran, and she showed no mercy when setting the pace. Each evening, she’d worked late, then took her pad into her bedroom without saying good night.

He should count that as a blessing. Keeping his hands off her curvy, delectable body was difficult enough without adding temptation to the mix.

But he’d about had enough of the hostilities.

Trouble was, he didn’t know how to end them.

Well, yeah, he did. But not without turning her over his knee and paddling her perfectly curved ass. Or kissing her senseless. Or finally fucking her until he’d exorcised the demon driving him to claim her. Maybe then he would find peace.

He’d taken her for a latte this morning, and then later they’d gone for a run. She didn’t vary her schedule, even on the weekends. After showering, she’d told him she had a video conference scheduled for early afternoon, then she’d wheeled Eureka’s cage into the office and shut the door.

Not that he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—go in. He checked the camera system periodically, at least once an hour.

He was on his second cup of coffee from a fresh pot when her excited “Yes!” reached him.

Instantly, Eureka ripped out a series of squawks.

After days of quiet, her enthusiasm was a welcome change. Curious, Trace poured her a cup of coffee—his version of an olive branch—and carried it down the hall.

Aimee was standing, leaning toward the computer monitor.

She didn’t even glance over at him.

“Agent!”

“Hey, menace.”

A number of people were on the screen, in a room he recognized as being at Hawkeye headquarters on the outskirts of Denver. There were a number of men and women high-fiving each other. Aimee’s teammates? Some of the finest geeks outside of Silicon Valley? A woman wore a dress so rumpled it looked as if she might have slept in it. A couple of the guys had on geeky Star Wars T-shirts.

“Let’s see how it works,” one of the men said. He was in bright yellow, had hair halfway down his back, and appeared to be in his early twenties—if that old. Shockingly, he was in bare feet. At headquarters.

“You got it, Knoll.”

Aimee gripped the edge of her workstation and leaned even farther forward.

Trace put down the cup and moved in closer to her.

Eyes wide, she worried her lower lip.

The camera focused on a woman behind a computer screen. Everyone in the room at Hawkeye fell silent. The woman moved her fingers quickly over the keyboard, and her screen changed from a string of code to an image of the room from the far corner.

Aimee exhaled and wrapped her hands around her chest. “Yes, yes, yes.” This time, instead of a yell, her words were whispered.

The funereal silence at headquarters lifted, and yells ripped through the room. Eureka joined in as people celebrated with hugs and cheers.

“It worked…” She looked at him and blinked. “It worked.”

“Congratulations.”

“It’s been years…” She turned to him. Her grin could light a small city, and energy vibrated off her.

Then because he couldn’t help himself, he closed her in his arms. He had no idea what her triumph was, and it didn’t matter. He was fucking elated that he was here for her.

“I can’t believe this.”

In the Hawkeye room, someone popped a bottle of champagne.

“There’s still a lot of work to be done, but we’re getting closer. We know it can be done—it just needs to be reliable.”

After the days of unease and silence, having Aimee happy shattered something in him.

“You’ll want to shut off your video if you’re live.”

“I was watching, not participating.”

“Good.” He kissed her, something quick, nonthreatening, inviting. How she responded was up to her. He’d demand nothing. She could move away, acting as if she’d been swept up in the moment.

Her eyes wide, she swayed into him, linking her arms around his neck. “Yes.”

This time, his kiss was deeper, asking forgiveness for not accepting what she’d offered days before, atoning for the hurt he’d caused in trying to be a hero.

She accepted his unspoken apology with heat that made his cock hard.

When she pulled back, her mouth swollen, her eyes wide, she said, “I know what I want.” She lowered her arms to her sides and took a step back. “And I don’t need you saving me from myself.”

“Aimee—”

“Don’t.” She placed a finger over his mouth. “Just don’t, Trace. Give me that much respect. Listen to me. Stop trying to protect me from you. The only thing I need is your honesty. If you want me, then take me. If you don’t, that’s fine. Tell me.”

He captured her wrist, his senses flaring. “Can you doubt it?”

“No.” She exhaled. “Yes. You’re so damn confusing. Fuck me, or make love to me, have sex. Whatever. Spank me. Teach me.”

She was so earnest, he couldn’t hold out any longer, even though his nobler nature urged him to do that. “I could have you up against a wall,” he murmured into her ear. “With your arms over your head, keeping you helpless.”

Her mouth parted slightly.

“Or bent over, with you grabbing your ankles so that I can admire your cunt while I put a finger in your ass.”

Had the pretty professor known what she was asking for, demanding, when she kept asking him to fuck her? “Maybe on your back, spread-eagle, tied to the bed while I flog your pussy until your clit is swollen?” With reserved restraint, he sank his teeth into that tender spot where her neck and shoulder merged.

Her knees wobbled. “Or maybe something gentle, with you beneath me so I can see your expression when you come?”

His beautiful Aimee gasped. He’d never been much for tenderness, but she brought it out in him. “But this is about you being adventurous, isn’t it?” His words painted colorful scenarios in his mind. He was so fucking hungry for her—crazy from the days of denying her—that he yearned to take her in every way possible. “In that case, perhaps, I should order you onto your stomach, spread-eagle, with a pillow underneath you, so your ass is begging for the spanking I’ll give it.”

“Oh, Trace…” Her words were so faint that he could hardly make them out.

“Are your nipples hard?” He bit her again, then laved away the hurt with his tongue. “Are they, querida?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And your pussy. Is it wet for me?”

She blushed. Despite her bold words, she was still the innocent. That knowledge made him want her even more.

“Very.”

“Which will it be? Tied to the bed? Up against a wall? Or bent over? And if the decision is being tied to the bed, faceup or facedown?” He released her wrist to grab her shirt and pull it up over her head. He tossed the material on the floor, and Eureka squawked. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Maybe I should put him in the cage.”

It took her a couple of minutes to coax him into doing what she wanted, and he protested when she closed the door. “He seems protective of you.”

“Uhm… The vet says they can be hormonal. Territorial. Some people recommend I get him a mate.”

Two of them? Trace couldn’t begin to imagine.

“Until now, it hasn’t been a concern.”

Until now, he hadn’t been intent on making her his. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. “Where were we?” He swept his gaze over her. Goose bumps dotted her arms, and her breaths were shallow. Her earlier words had been brave, but what was going on inside her told a different story. She was nervous as hell. And she was right to be.

After this, for him—for them—there would be no going back. “Undress for me.”

Not even blinking, she slipped out of her sandals, making her several inches shorter. Then, looking at him, she wiggled out of her shorts, leaving her in a sheer black lacy bra and a pair of sexy briefs. “Panties next.”

“Yes, Trace.”

Her words were a gift.

She stripped them off, then stepped out of them.

“How are you supposed to stand?”

Aimee worried her upper lip as she spread her legs.

Trace pressed his palms together so as to avoid the temptation of touching her. Not quite yet. Because when he did, he would lose all restraint. “Now remove your bra.”

Once she had, she remembered to place her hands behind her back, thrusting her breasts toward him.

Her hair was in a ponytail, so she couldn’t hide behind the strands, allowing him to see her expressions—trepidation, excitement, and the most intoxicating of all, trust. “Now, undress me.”

“I’m not quite sure where to start.”

“Go with your intuition.”

The air scented with her sweetness, she took two steps toward him. He remained in place, wanting to own every second of her innocent seduction.

Her motions hesitant, she tugged his shirt free from his waistband. Then she pulled up, her pinkie fingers brushing his abs. He sucked in an involuntary breath, and she smiled.

Once his shirt was off, she hung it from a bedpost.

He sat on the mattress. “Boots.”

With a tiny nod, she knelt before him. Remembering his prior instructions, she spread her legs apart. “So damn lovely.”

She tugged off each of his boots and socks, then looked up.

Trace stood, extracted his wallet from his back pocket, then pulled out a condom. He tossed both onto the nightstand before prompting, “Now the rest.”

Her fingers a little unsteady, she unbuckled his belt, then unfastened the button on his waistband before lowering his zipper.

Then she tugged down his jeans.

Since he was commando, his erect cock sprang free, inches from her lips, close enough that her warm breath washed over him.

“Oh my.” She remained where she was, looking up at him. “God.”

“I take it you approve?”

“I… Yes.”

He grinned as he offered her a hand up. Because he wanted to be inside her, he lifted her onto the bed and pushed her back. He knelt between her legs and licked between her delicate folds.

“Trace, I’m so ready for you.”

“Are you, querida?” He dipped a finger inside, sliding back and forth, making certain she was fully lubricated.

Whimpering, she gripped his shoulders. He circled her clit, and she lifted her hips in silent entreaty.

He plunged his tongue inside her, and she ground her pelvis against him. Such a hot, beautiful woman. He was proud of her as she tossed her head back and forth and fisted the bedsheets, staving off an orgasm.

When he was certain she was on the verge of shattering, her whimpers becoming gasps, he moved away.

“Trace…”

He left her just long enough to roll on the condom. “I want your legs over my shoulders.”

With a nod, she raised her legs, and he pressed against the backs of her thighs, keeping her wide for his entrance.

“That’s so… Wow.”

“Relax.” He pressed forward, sliding in a fraction of an inch at a time. Despite her arousal, she was so damn tight.

He eased out to lick her again and glide a thumb across her mouth.

“It’s been a while.” A blush highlighted her cheekbones.

“You’re perfect.” He claimed her mouth, and when she closed her eyes to give herself over, he slid his cockhead inside her again.

He continued to kiss her, deeply, in silent reassurance.

A few seconds later, tension left her body, and she began to move with him, offering more of her body to him.

When he sank in all the way, he groaned, the sound buried between their mouths. Yeah, he was making love to her. And it was unlike anything he’d ever done. He wanted to satisfy her, let her know he cared, that she wasn’t just an assignment.

Trace ended the kiss, then changed his position a little so he could tease her pussy. Her lips parted, and she tipped back her head. Ordinarily, missionary wasn’t his preferred position, but with her, it might be his favorite. Her face was so expressive, he wanted to savor each reaction.

She gripped his shoulders. “I’m…” She dug her fingernails into his skin, nearly sending him over the edge as the climax rippled through her.

Her internal muscles squeezed his cock, and he gritted his back teeth to hold off as long as he could.

But he hadn’t counted on his reaction to her.

Her pleasure drove his, and he surged forward, his shoulders forcing her legs even wider as he ejaculated.

He took care not to collapse on her, and instead pulled out, then rolled to his side and pulled her against him.

She curled into him. He ran his fingers up and down her arm as he waited for his breathing to return to normal. Not that there ever would be a normal for him again.

Aimee placed a hand on his chest, like a longtime and familiar lover would do.

“You okay?”

“I might be sore,” she said, her voice slightly teasing. “But if so, it’s worth it.”

“You deserve some time to recover,” he said. “You’ve earned it. Before I fuck you again.”

Using her hand as leverage, she pushed herself up to meet his gaze. “Do you mean that?”

“Querida. I mean it. I’m going to make sure you’re completely satisfied. And I want to take you from behind.”