Honor Bound

Cam stood against one wall, her hands in the pockets of her blended silk trousers, watching two fighters prepare to spar in the ring opposite her. The top floor of the warehouse was dimly lit by rows of dirty windows well above head level and fluorescent lights dangling from heavy chains in the cavernous ceiling. The combination cast the entire space in a harsh flickering haze. There were sparring rings at each of three corners of the room. In the fourth corner, an area partitioned off by plywood and exposed two-by-fours served as the business office and makeshift locker rooms. When she had first entered, Cam had given the entire room a thorough examination, noting how many people were present, and where they were. Blair had gone immediately to the tiny women's dressing area, which was nothing more than a closet with a curtain strung across the door.

Cam did not follow her for several reasons. She wanted to give Blair as much privacy as possible, and following her into the dressing room would only call more attention to them both. Furthermore, she had been in that dressing room with Blair once, and she knew just how small it was, and she knew exactly how Blair looked when she stripped off her clothes to put on her work out gear. Cam did not want to be standing two feet away from her when Blair did that, because regardless of her intentions, Cam knew she would be tempted. It had been six weeks, and not a day, hell, barely an hour, had passed that she didn't think about Blair. What she couldn't tell Blair, and what she didn't want to think about herself, was how many times in those six weeks she had imagined how Blair's skin would feel under her fingertips.

So she stood in the shadows against the wall where she could see the entire room and still be as close to Blair as she could be without actually climbing into the ring with her.

Twenty feet away, Blair jogged lightly in place on the soiled canvas cover of the ten foot square ring while she waited for her opponent to adjust his gloves and get his mouthpiece between his teeth. She had been free-sparring for almost three months with some of the men in her weight class. There were no other women who frequented the gym with enough experience at kickboxing to spar with her. She'd been coming long enough that the men accepted her as a regular, and no one thought anything of working out with her. After the first few times that she had put one of them soundly on the mat with a round house kick or a strong right cross, they forget that she was a woman and fought her with no holds barred.

She watched the young guy opposite her approach, happy at the moment to see a little belligerence in his attitude. She needed an outlet for her physical frustration and her mental turmoil. Cam's abrupt return and the sudden change in their relationship had left her reeling. Nothing would test her or distract her as much as being in the ring with someone who could potentially hurt her. She would need to focus and she would need to burn. She knew that somewhere nearby Cam was watching. She didn't look for her; she didn't want to see her. But she felt her, and part of her wanted her there.

She hated the fact that she was comforted by knowing that Cam was near. Cam was so very good at making her feel cared for, even when it was part of her job. From the very beginning, Cam made her feel that she was what mattered and not the status reports or job performance evaluations that seemed to motivate so many of the dozens of agents who had guarded her throughout her childhood and into adulthood. God, she hated that she loved every single thing about Cameron Roberts. She lifted her gloved hands and tapped them against those of her opponent, eager for the first contact, wanting desperately to drive Cam's face from her mind.

*

She's even better than she used to be, Cam thought, as she watched Blair dance lightly across the canvas. Unlike most male kickboxers who relied primarily on their punches for knockouts, Blair had to depend more on her legs, which were, for most women, more powerful weapons than their hands. It also gave her the advantage of staying beyond the range of most other fighters' punches. It was very possible that with a well-placed kick Blair could render a man unconscious. On the other hand, she wouldn't be able to weather too many direct blows to the face from a man her size or one even smaller. As Cam watched, Blair effectively countered a volley of punches and pushed her opponent back with a nicely executed kick to his thigh.

As one part of her mind kept a constant vigil of the people nearby in her peripheral vision, Cam allowed herself the luxury of simply looking at Blair. Blair had pulled her hair back away from her face and gathered it at the nape of her neck, securing the few remaining wild curls with a rolled red bandanna tied around her forehead. She wore loose navy shorts and a cropped white tee-shirt that left her midriff bare. The small gold ring in her navel glinted against the sweat sheen on her skin. As Cam watched the muscles ripple in Blair's stomach, she stared at the ring and remembered how it felt as she rubbed her palm over it.

It was the first night they had stayed at Diane's apartment, and the memory was not diminished by the many times Cam had relived it. She had been there close to an hour, waiting for Blair. She'd tried to read a magazine she'd found next to the sofa, but found she couldn't concentrate. She was too anxious. She was worried about Blair, knowing that agents would be watching her and wondering what she was doing at Diane's. Blair didn't make a secret of her sexual preferences, but it was never wise to give anyone too much information of a private nature. And rumors of Blair trysting with a Secret Service agent would make for powerful discussion around the water cooler. Cam reminded herself that she knew these agents, and believed in her heart that she could trust them to be discreet, but the habits of a lifetime of guarding her privacy were hard to change. Despite her anxiety, she couldn't wait to see Blair again. After resisting her for so long, now all she could do was think about her. When she heard the key turn in the lock, she got to her feet and crossed the living room towards the tiny foyer just inside the front door. Blair stepped through, breathless and smiling.

"Hi," Blair had said, depositing a bag and a bottle of wine on the small table nearby. For just an instant, she looked shy.

Cam remembered thinking that she had never seen Blair look quite so young. "Hi," she had answered. And then she had kissed her. She had meant it only as a kiss of greeting, but they had parted nearly a day before, and they had only had a night together then. It had not been enough, and at the moment it felt like it would never be enough. One of them had groaned, and both of them had begun frantically undressing each other where they stood. Soon, they were pressed together half naked, unable to stop touching each other long enough to finish the job.

With their mouths hungrily trading kisses and small bites, Cam's hands had found Blair's breasts as Blair worked desperately to loosen the buttons on Cam's jeans. They had both been in danger of falling in their eagerness to consume one another.

Finally, Cam had wrenched her head back, gasping, and said, "Wait! There must be a bedroom here. I really need to do this lying down."

Blair's eyes had been wild with urgency, and she had simply grasped the waistband of Cam's jeans where she had managed to get the top button open and tugged. "Come on," she had ordered, her voice husky with want. "Guestroom. This way."

Cam had followed, slipping one hand around Blair's body from behind, smoothing her palm over the silky tautness of Blair's abdomen. The small gold ring had rubbed lightly against her skin, and she didn't think she'd ever felt anything quite so sexy. She had stopped Blair just outside the door to the bedroom, pressing her bare chest to Blair's back, bringing both hands from behind to cup Blair's breasts. She'd brought her lips close to Blair's ear as she'd moved her fingers to Blair's nipples. "Yesterday you made me beg."

Blair jerked in her arms, arching into Cam's hands as Cam continued the pressure on her nipples. "Do you have a point, Commander?" Blair had finally managed, reaching back with one hand and searching for the rest of the buttons on Cam's fly.

"Could be it's your turn," Cam whispered, biting lightly at the skin below Blair's earlobe. She was about to slide her palm down Blair's stomach when Blair succeeded in opening her jeans and slipping her hand down the front.

"God!" Cam gasped as Blair's fingers slid through the wet heat between her legs. Her knees threatened to buckle as Blair tugged at her. She wrapped her arms around Blair's body, pressing her face to Blair's neck, floating for a moment on a wave of pleasure. Then she'd stiffened as the persistent pull of Blair's fingers pushed her suddenly to the brink of orgasm.

"Uh uh. No," she murmured, stepping back unsteadily, her head buzzing with the thunder of blood, forcing Blair to move her hand. "Not so fast." She shook her head, clearing the mist of arousal from her brain. She took a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the throbbing that began in her belly and spread outward through her limbs.

Blair turned in her arms, pushing at her jeans, ready to take her on the spot, and Cam had kissed her again. Distracting her by pulling her lower lip between her teeth, biting her lightly, Cam backed her up step by step, into the bedroom. She kept her lips firmly on Blair's and grasped Blair's wrists with her hands, keeping them away from her. She'd never last if Blair touched her again. She was already twitching with the faint tremor of preorgasmic spasms. When they hit the bed and fell backwards together, Cam had rolled onto her, pinning Blair's hands above her head with both of hers.

"Not so fast," Cam whispered hoarsely again, just before she caught Blair's nipple in her teeth.

Blair had cried out in surprise and struggled to get her hands free, thrusting her hips against the thigh Cam had driven between her legs. "Let me touch you," she'd groaned in Cam's ear. "Let me do it fast this time."

"Soon," Cam had murmured against her breast. It had been so long since she'd touched a woman that way, and she'd wanted Blair so badly all those months she'd been in charge of her security detail. She'd denied it then, but she didn't have to now. "I want you so much."

Blair's hands had been in her hair when Cam had finally put her mouth on her. Blair's fingers had opened and closed erratically as Cam sucked and licked and tortured her with her tongue. When Blair had pleaded, Cam had slipped her fingers inside; and when she'd begged, Cam had moved her hand slowly deeper; and when she'd cried, Cam had let her come, stroking and thrusting and turning gently until every muscle had clenched and relaxed a dozen times over.

Then she'd laid her cheek against the inside of Blair's thigh, exhausted and content and without a single ounce of regret. But even then, as she listened to Blair's breathing finally quiet, some part of her knew it was borrowed pleasure, because happiness, most of all, came with a price.

Cam flinched as Blair hit the canvas hard, the memory of that night dissolving in the demands of the moment. Instinctively, she took one step forward and then forced herself to stop as she saw Blair get to her feet. She clenched her fists when Blair swayed unsteadily for an instant, but then Blair seemed to shrug off the effect of the left jab that had caught her in the face, signaling her partner to come ahead.

Cam watched her carefully for the rest of the bout, which mercifully lasted only another few minutes. She seemed all right as she regained her balance and moved quickly to counter punches, even managing a spectacular leg sweep that put her opponent flat on his back, winding him for a minute. Still, Cam was happy when Blair climbed out of the ring and disappeared into the back of the gym.

When Blair emerged in a dry tee-shirt, ready to leave, Cam joined her. "Nice fight," she said, relieved to see that Blair's eyes were clear and her gait steady.

Blair shrugged, smiling faintly. "I didn't exactly beat the crap out of him, though."

Cam smiled. "Close enough." Before she could stop herself, she raised her hand and brushed her thumb across a bruise beginning to form on Blair's cheek where his glove had landed. "Maybe you should wear a helmet next time, Ms. Powell," she said softly.

Blair's eyes widened at the gentle caress. The touch was so tender it reached deeper than desire. "I'll take that under advisement, Commander," she whispered, unable to take her eyes from Cam's penetrating gaze.

"Good," Cam said quietly. "Because I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Yes, I know," Blair responded. "That's your job."

But there was no resentment in her words, and as they left together, they were both strangely comforted by the first moments without anger they had shared all day.