My Silver Fox Protector by Lauren Cole



I watchedEmma as she milled around my kitchen barefoot, in those damn shorts again. As she turned her back to me to stir a steaming pot on the stove, I unsuccessfully fought the urge to look at her smooth, firm thighs. I wanted to walk around this damn counter and pull those thighs apart, and pull her warmth onto my tongue. I blew out a breath and tried not to think about what her pussy tasted like. What was wrong with me?

“Almost ready.” She whirled back around with a smile that could rival the warmth of the sun. Her smooth pale skin, her curves that dipped in all the right places. With her short hair, she looked even younger now, as it swayed and moved with her while she spun around the kitchen, getting dinner ready.

It had been a few days of her being here, and we’d fallen into a rhythm of passing glances and light, polite conversation. After the first night of takeout, I’d cooked for the two of us, and I had made my staple of chicken, broccoli, and rice. After three nights of that meal, she’s offered to cook. Clearly, she was over chicken and broccoli three nights in a row, and I didn’t blame her.

It’s not that I didn't know how to cook, but I was a busy guy, and I ate for nutrition more than taste. I had to keep my body sharp and fueled, and I wasn’t keen on spending more time making food than was necessary. Typically, my fridge was stacked with my standard meal in five or six meal prep containers, ready to go.

She slid a wine bottle and a corkscrew in front of me. “Can you open this?” She whirled around and reached up on her tiptoes to grab two wineglasses from the cabinet. I stifled a groan as the bottom curve of her ass peaked out, just begging to be bitten. My eyes lingered on her firm thighs, and the warmth I knew I’d find at the apex of them. This was so wrong. I shouldn’t be imagining what the warmth between her legs feels like. But it didn’t matter what I knew was right, because I felt my cock strain against my zipper all the same.

She returned with the two wineglasses, sliding them towards me. “Here.”

I poured a modest pour of wine in the first glass before she protested. “Come on, what are you? A lightweight? We’re celebrating.” As I poured the second glass, she grinned and lightly tipped the bottom of the bottle I was pouring up, so that I filled the second glass much fuller. “I’ll take that.” She said as she swiped the full glass from me.

I raised my brows at her. “What are we celebrating?”

“That I’m alive, that I didn’t get murdered in my house the other day. That I got a haircut.” She rolled her eyes and lifted her hand to show off her hair. She had used kitchen scissors last night to even out the hack job I’d given her. And I did feel bad about cutting her hair, but better her hair than something that wouldn’t grow back. She continued, “That we don’t have to eat another one of your meal prep meals.” She teased.

“Hey, those meals are perfectly nutritionally balanced.” I chuckled.

“I’m not saying they’re not. I’m just saying they’re bland.” She put her hands up and shrugged mischievously. “I just think you’re going to like this a whole lot better.

“Can’t wait.” I smiled before taking a sip of my moderate glass of wine. I was genuinely excited to eat whatever she was cooking. But I was more pleased to see her in my kitchen barefoot. Something about it felt primal to me. I could get used to this. Having a beautiful woman cook me a meal, and sharing it with me over a glass of wine. Though not meant to be romantic, it was.

And after a steak dinner with braised asparagus and buttery mashed potatoes, I leaned back in my chair, thoroughly satiated. I watched as Emma worked on her second full glass of wine. She wandered over to the stereo and turned the music up, and began twirling around the living room, dancing.

I could feel my eyes gleaming as I watched her dance. She was beautiful; she was a woman now, and her body had all the curves to show for it. I tried not to lick my lips and she let her head fall back, exposing her long, soft neck.

I got a notification on my phone, and I quickly pulled it up. I blew a breath out. I had to leave for a mission tomorrow. I watched Emma innocently swaying to the music and wondered what to do with her. I could leave her here. I did have my place locked down with security cameras so I could watch her that way. Though, I didn’t feel great about that option. If she was in any real danger, yes, I’d be able to see, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything useful.

Obviously, her attack had been coordinated by the organization, and carried out by me, but she had been genuinely threatened by the hacker she was goading. I didn’t know how real that threat really was.

I was fast and clean when I went on my missions. I could keep her at the hotel, so at least she was with me.

Suddenly, Emma stumbled over to me and grabbed my hand. “Dance with me, Mason. Don’t make me dance alone.” She sang giddily as she placed her wineglass on the kitchen table and stumbled forward towards me, grabbing my hand.

“Easy.” I reached out and stopped her from falling over.

As I sat with my hands on her hips, keeping her upright, she now stood between my legs, balancing herself with one hand on my chest. She chewed her lip, and her eyes went hooded as her chest heaved. Each breath accentuated the soft curve of her breasts as they strained against her tight camisole. I felt my pulse shoot through the roof. I could pull her into my lap right now and taste her. She stood swaying in front of me, as if she was waiting for me to do just that.

I cleared my throat. “I have to leave for a work trip tomorrow. I’d like you to come with me, so I can keep an eye on you.”

She nodded, and her gaze was back on my lips. “Ok.” She whispered out.


She was checking me out. I wasn’t sure earlier, but now I was confident that she was waiting for me to kiss her. I gritted my teeth. Too bad I wouldn’t. It was my job to protect her, and kissing her while she was drunk was not high up on the list of ways to do that. Or kissing her ever, for that matter.

Her eyes scanned my face, and she stepped forward. I could bury my face in her tits from where she stood. She was that close. I tried to steady my breathing, but she was such a fucking temptation. I realized my thumbs had been kneading her hips as I thought about her, because her eyes suddenly fluttered shut and she let out the softest whimper.


Oh, how I could make that moan even louder. I could have her screaming and moaning and chanting my name. The sound of that soft little moan made me feral.

“I think it’s time for bed.” I grunted out.

Her eyes flicked open, and she breathed rapidly at me. Suddenly I registered that it almost sounded like an invitation.

“For us to go to bed… in our own rooms.” I clarified gently.

“Right.” She whispered, but she still stood there in front of me, and I still sat there, gripping her hips. She blushed and dropped her eyes suddenly. “Want to know something embarrassing?” She questioned softly.

My pulse was through the roof. “Yes.” I wanted to know every thought that popped into that pretty little head of hers.

Her eyes flicked back up, and she hesitated before she spoke. “Um…” She laughed again, “I used to say that you were my first kiss.”

I racked my brain for a moment in confusion.

She searched my face. “You know, because of the whole pool thing.”

Pool thing? What was the pool thing?

“When you saved me from drowning, and you gave me CPR.” She smiled so big her eyes closed. “Isn’t that funny?”

Something in me liked that she considered me her first kiss. Now I definitely knew she was thinking about me like that, and clearly had been for quite some time, seeing as I pulled her out of the pool when she was maybe sixteen or seventeen, I couldn't recall exactly. I needed to put an end to this right now before I did something stupid. I pulled a chair up with my foot, and gently pushed her down towards it, but she was locking her knees.

“Sit.” I instructed gently but firmly.

She stood defiantly pushing against my grip; She was breathing heavily. I could have easily made her sit, but part of me didn’t want to push her away. She continued, “I’ve always wondered what a real kiss with you would feel like.” She slid her arms up around my neck and into my hair, and she shifted forward.

Oh, for Christ’s sake, I did not have this kind of strength. The feeling of her hands raking and pulling through my hair with desire nearly broke me. “Emma.” I said it softly, as I tried to let her down, easily, gently.

“I think you feel it too, Mason.” Her lips hovered over mine. I could practically taste her sweetness in the air. She was so close.

“I don’t feel that way about you, Emma.” It was a lie, but it had to be said, it was for the best.

Her body language shifted, and she looked hurt. She let me gently guide her into the chair across from me. When I released her hips down onto the chair, I felt an immediate longing to touch her again. To feel her warmth against me.

I changed the subject, “I’ll need you to stay in the hotel when we go on this trip, ok?”

“Yeah sure whatever.” She was leaning on the table, tracing the wood grain with her finger now. She wouldn’t look at me.

“It’s really important. We’ll be in Iran, and–”

“Iran?” She perked up way too much at that.

“Yes…” I drew it out, wanting her to clarify. She darted her eyes away, and I pressed, wanting to know why she was so interested, “Why? Why is Iran significant to you?”

“Oh, it’s not.” She lied. It was my training to know when someone lied to me, and she definitely knew something. She was drunk, so it was even less hard to tell that she was lying.

“I just need to know you can stay put in the hotel, otherwise you could put yourself in more danger than you’d probably be in here.” I studied her. “You think you can do that?”

“You just want to keep me locked up all the time. I’m tired of being trapped, Mason.” Her eyes were getting heavier and heavier.

I shook my head. She was one hundred percent a flight risk. Over the last few days, she’d disappeared without telling me where she was going or when she would be back. Whether she stayed or came with me, I needed to know where she was at all times. I shook my head. I didn’t like it, but I was going to have to track her, and not just on her phone.

Emma got up and started dancing to the music again. She was getting her second wind. I got up and quickly went to the basement. I leaned against the drawer for a moment and groaned. It had to be done, though. I opened the drawer and grabbed a sedative and a tracking chip, and headed back upstairs.

While she was twirling in the living room, I grabbed her glass and dissolved the powdered sedative into her wine.

“I topped you off.” I called out to her, and she came back and slammed down the rest of the wine in one gulp. She grinned at me, and I shook my head. But this was good. She’d be out in no time, and she wouldn’t feel a thing.

After a few minutes, her eyes got heavier and heavier. I got up and came over to her in the living room. “You look tired. Why don’t you lie down on the couch?”

She started to stumble. The sedative was pulling her under and she was fighting it. “Dance with me, Mason.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me to her.

I pulled her tightly into my chest and wrapped my arms around her as we swayed in the living room, and then she finally went limp against me. I gently laid her on the couch, on her side, and injected the tracking chip into her shoulder. She murmured as it went in. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I keep hurting you. I’m so sorry.” I looked at her somberly before I slid my arms under her and pulled her against my chest.

I slowly made my way up the stairs, and deposited her in the guest bed, and pulled the covers over her. I tucked her hair behind her ear and found myself leaning forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. It was the only stolen kiss I was going to take from her, ever. I took a deep breath in and sat there for a moment, watching her. Her mouth was slightly parted and a soft snore whispered out. I chuckled and gently rolled her over to her side, and the snoring subsided.

This was for the best. I needed her to stay close to me, and I needed to know under any circumstance that I could locate her.

Viktor said she was getting a second chance, but I didn’t fully trust him. Viktor was going to do whatever he thought was best for the agency, even if that meant cutting Emma loose or worse. I owed it to Emma’s dad to keep her safe. It had been me that got her recruited into this mess, even if it was her best option. I owed it to Emma to keep her safe, and that’s exactly what I intended to do.

If I could get in and out, extract the information I needed from the parties in Iran, and possibly eliminate any threats, it would slow down if not cripple the terrorist group that continued to steal the weapons we were tracking. It would remove the incidents Emma had been tracking, and maybe if it turned up to be a dead end, she would just leave it alone.