Against Protocol (Protocol Series Book 1) Read online

  Copyright 2018 Eden Butler

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author Publisher.

  Proofread by Julie Deaton

  Cover Design by Lori Jackson

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word-marks and references mentioned in this work of fiction.

  ALSO BY EDEN BUTLER

  THE SERENITY SERIES

  Chasing Serenity

  Behind the Pitch

  Finding Serenity

  Claiming Serenity

  Catching Serenity

  THE THIN LOVE SERIES

  Thin Love

  My Beloved

  Thick Love

  Thick & Thin

  GOD OF ROCK SERIES

  Kneel

  Beg

  SAINTS AND SINNERS SERIES

  Roughing the Kicker

  STANDALONES

  I’ve Seen You Naked and Didn’t Laugh

  Crimson Cove

  Platform Four

  Infinite Us

  Fall

  COLLABORATIONS

  Nailed Down, Nailed Down Book One, with Chelle Bliss

  Tied Down, Nailed Down Book Two, with Chelle Bliss

  Find out more about Eden’s books on her site www.edenbutler.com

  Contents

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  DEDICATION

  AGAINST PROTOCOL SUMMARY

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  There is a filthy cliffhanger at the end of this story.

  It was necessary.

  My bad,

  Eden

  DEDICATION

  To Shonda Rhimes, the goddess of Take-No-Shit women.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  AGAINST PROTOCOL SUMMARY

  Everyone has secrets, even the leader of the free world.

  Even his wife.

  I was Ophelia Harris, America’s youngest First Lady.

  Now I'm America’s Widow, and my husband’s secrets continue to haunt me.

  They continue to threaten my life.

  I’m supposed to grieve with the world and keep up the façade of the perfect marriage

  and the perfect life.

  But I can’t.

  Because of him.

  Cruz Solano, the man I can never have and the only one I'll ever want.

  PROLOGUE

  New Orleans, September 2002

  Lia

  “I never do this.”

  I wasn’t sure Cruz believed me. He gave me a smirk, something I noticed he did as habit. Something, I had to admit, that had gotten my attention from across the room tonight. He was tall and wide, the kind of man that made others take notice. Men would fear him if they’d found themselves alone in a dark alley with Cruz Solano. Women would want to get him naked dark alley or no. But there was more to him than that large, imposing frame, flawless light brown skin or the handsome, angular face.

  It was the smirk and the, kiss me, tell me to fuck off, doesn’t really matter to me attitude he gave off when I worked up the nerve to stand next to him at the make-shift bar the brothers of Phi Beta Sig constructed for their party that really sparked my interest. Typical, I knew. I always had a thing for bad boys, aloof boys, or guys that just didn’t give a shit. Pretty positive my therapist would chalk up my interest to some latent desire to punish my father for expecting too much from me. That wasn’t it. It was him—his strength, his ‘rough around the edges’ exterior, and the power that radiated off him. He was in control. He was confident. That was a complete turn on for me.

  But just then, I didn’t care why I was attracted to Cruz. I only cared that he understood that me being alone with a guy I’d just met, ready to get naked, wasn’t my go-to behavior.

  “Seriously,” I tried when he only nodded, letting that grin and those dark, wandering eyes tell me all I needed to know about his intentions. “I don’t go home with random guys. I’m not...I don’t...”

  “You a virgin?” He sounded curious, but not worried. Cruz stood in front of me smelling of whatever delicious boy cologne he wore and cinnamon from the shots of Fireball we’d done before leaving the party.

  “I’m not sure why you...”

  “I don’t get with virgins.” The muscles around his mouth worked as he watched me. Despite the assumption he made and the promise he gave me, Cruz didn’t seem able to keep from touching me. He moved a hand through my hair, fingering the ends like he was fine waiting for me to answer him. Like he had time enough to see if I’d bolt. “Virgins tend to get attached.”

  “And you don’t want attachments.” He looked away from the curl he’d twisted around his finger to watch me, as though he was surprised I didn’t sound disappointed. “You said that before we left the party. No attachments. You have no interest in anything serious.”

  “I did, mami.” That last word came out soft, like a whisper and just the sound of the sweet Spanish endearment eased some of my worry. “This is my last semester. A few more months and I’m off to finish some...military stuff.”

  “I’m not interested in attachments either.” I inhaled, liking how good he smelled, loving the heat that came off him as he moved closer. He was a good two inches taller than me and had dark, long lashes that curled against his eyelids when he blinked. Cruz’s lips were full, succulent and I found myself a little desperate to taste his mouth. There’d been no first kiss, no real touching at all after I approached. Just him, looking me over like he wanted all of me and a few sweet, likely well practiced lines that got me wet.

  “You’re too much for this place. Too fucking beautiful for the assholes sniffing around here.” And then, when he got the smile he seemed to be angling for, when a few shy looks became long sentences and questions that got spoken and answered, Cruz let me know what he really wanted. “You wanna disappear with me? See if they miss us?”

  They wouldn’t, I knew that. Jasmine, my roommate, had promised me a good time at this party then promptly got caught up in a fight two Sigs had over her. She’d be drunk off that attention for weeks. The guy standing next to Cruz when I first met his gaze looked barely able to stand by ten-thirty and crashed on the sofa next to a couple practically naked and getting more so by the minute.

  A second after he’d asked if I wanted to disappear, in that low, growling tone, I didn’t hesitate. I did want to disappear for a while with someone who didn’t have any expectations from me.

  “So?” he said, his expression shifting from curiosity, to outright indifference, as though he was already changing his opinions about avoiding virgins. He didn’t need to worry.

  “I’m not a virgin.” Cruz’s smile was slow to come, like he wasn’t sure he believed me, but I saved him the trouble of asking if I was lying. “Senior year. Robert Washington. We dated for six months and then he got drafted by Duke.”

  “He left you for a scholarship?” He didn’t seem to understand the logic, kept moving closer, kept his fingers moving through my hair.

  “It was a full ride scholarship. He played a y
ear in the NFL before he got injured.”

  “Idiot,” Cruz said, lowering his hands to my waist, grip tight, body pressed close as he walked us through his small living room. “Women like you don’t get left.” He paused just inside his room, holding a palm against my cheek, thumb smoothing over my skin and it felt—right somehow, comfortable. There was a look in Cruz’s eyes that felt a little too good. It filled me with something that went beyond passion or desire. I was sure that feeling shouldn’t be happening, no matter how gorgeous I thought this guy was.

  One-night stands should mean nothing but carnal desires being satisfied. Cruz, though wasn’t looking at me like he wanted to fuck me and then walk away and I wasn’t feeling like that would be something that might be enough for me.

  He closed his eyes when I angled my face against his palm, then moved his forehead against mine. It was sweet, a little overwhelming but I didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, I lowered his hand, wanting him to touch me, knowing by the look he gave me that he wanted the same.

  Gaze focused, unblinking, Cruz drifted his fingertips down my neck, teasing the hollow of my neck, then tickled the swell of my breasts without ever looking away from me. He was smooth, I’d give him that, didn’t break stride as he leaned down to kiss my neck, wet mouth dragging against my skin as he shut the door with one kick of his foot.

  “What kind of asshole gets you, has you for that long, and just lets you go?”

  “It...it was high school,” I said, loving how he licked behind my ear, still pressing me close with his hands as he pulled my lobe between his teeth. I held onto his neck, sliding my fingers to curl into his shirt. “It was...oh...”

  “I like the sounds you make,” he said, pushing me to his bed and I had time enough to notice the spartan way his room was furnished and the thick, soft comforter at my back and three pillows at my head. The room smelled like him, clean, delicious and was lit with a soft yellow light from his bedside lamp. That was all I managed to catch before Cruz hovered over me, steadying himself on one hand as he looked down, fingers playing with my collarbone. He felt heavy over me, but I loved the weight and the thick brush of the top of his dick against my thigh. “You don’t do this,” he said, repeating my earlier confession.

  “Never,” I admitted, wishing he’d come closer, get back to putting his mouth against my neck and his hands lower.

  “And you’re not a virgin.” I shook my head, moving my fingers over his arms, scratching my nails against his wide chest. He liked that, made a small noise when I touched him, smirking again with his head twisting like a cat brushing against massaging fingers. “You know, mami, I don’t think I’d care if you were or not.” He licked his lips, pushing my thighs apart with his knee. “The sounds you make, how sweet you taste, I might make allowances even if you were innocent.” He liked my small laugh, but the smile faded when my grazing nails got deeper. He stilled my hand against his chest, watching me close. “You sure you want to be with me? You sure you’re down for that?” I nodded but Cruz didn’t seem convinced. He moved closer, fingers reaching over my hip, sliding up my rib to steady himself as he came closer, lowering so that our centers touched, and he ground against me, giving me a clear impression of how hard he was. When I gasped, feeling the long, wide stretch of his dick, the thick mass and wide girth a little intimidating, Cruz nodded. “Yeah. See why I don’t get with virgins?”

  I nodded again but pulled him closer. “I’m not scared.” And then, I unbuttoned his jeans, gaze on him, unblinking, staring as I fished beneath his waistband and took him in my hand. “Fuck me,” I whispered, amazed, and he grinned, giving me back the smirk I was fast becoming obsessed with.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Still holding him between my fingers, wanting his mouth, needing to taste him, I nipped at his lip, sliding my tongue in for a quick taste. “I’m not stopping you.”

  Cruz made low, needy sounds, guttural with a growl that made my body hum, sent a sweet throb of pleasure straight to my center. I took cues from him, watching his face as I gripped him, fascinated by how thick he felt, how that big, hard length was too much for my small hands.

  “Lia,” he hissed when I tightened my hold, breathing in deep, nostrils flaring as I rubbed the tip with my thumb. “Fuck, mami...” and then Cruz pulled my hand free, caught it and my other wrist in a swift, smooth grip before he attacked my mouth. “Shit,” he said, holding my face still with his free hand, letting his tongue fill my mouth, sucking my bottom lip until I bucked against him. “I could get used to the way you taste.” He leaned back, fingers digging into my wrists, hips moving to simulate what he seemed as desperate as I was to do. “I need to be inside you...” He stopped, that grin returning when I didn’t hide the look I felt pulling down my mouth. I wanted him but didn’t want it to all be over too quickly. Cruz cocked up an eyebrow, releasing my wrist. “You change your mind?”

  “No.” I held his face, kissing him to let him know I wasn’t backing out. “I just don’t want it to be fast. I want it...to last.”

  He laughed then, coming back up on his palms to stare down at me. “You’re not good for my ego, beautiful. I have no plans for anything to be over quick.” When I tilted my head, a little unsure what he meant, Cruz smoothed away the line I felt forming between my eyebrows with his thumb. “Not my style to rush.”

  “Oh?” I said, liking how deep his voice was, how he bit his bottom lip like that small movement was the only thing keeping himself from tasting my mouth again. “So what’s else is your style?”

  He didn’t answer and something tight uncoiled in my stomach when he moved his gaze down my body, sliding over me, pulling on my jeans, tearing them off in one smooth movement before he came to his knees.

  “Let me show you.” Then Cruz pulled my hips to the edge of the bed, eyes up and watching me, staring as he pulled away my thong and moved one hand under my ass and the other to my wet, throbbing clit. One small taste, his gaze still on my face watching, focused, then Cruz sucked me into his mouth, moaning against my skin like he’d never get enough of my taste.

  He whispered things against my pussy that I couldn’t understand; mutters that were likely filthy, probably primal and instinctual. Nothing that he did, not a word he said, felt practiced or rehearsed.

  “Yeah,” he said, grazing his tongue up my pussy, “I could get damn used to the way you taste.” He ate me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted, touched me, two fingers deep, working my G-spot, until I could do nothing but scream his name, gripping his sheets like that fabric was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.

  When I’d filled his mouth and thought there wasn’t anymore sensation he could work inside me, Cruz stood, moving quick—a one-armed swipe of his shirt over his head, toeing off his Chucks, tugging off his jeans, then his black boxer briefs until there was only him standing in front of me, stroking his dick, watching me as he did it.

  He moved his head to acknowledge me, silent except for the slow release of a breathy, “you sure?”

  “Damn straight,” I said, earning a smile from him when I cupped my breast, teasing the nipple, unable to look away as he pulled on a condom and stalked toward me, meeting me in the center of the mattress just as I managed to pull off my shirt and bra.

  We moved together like a dance, reaching for each other, touching, tasting until he couldn’t hold back, until I couldn’t, and I found myself on top of him, inching onto his cock, taking all that length, controlling it because I thought it might hurt any other way.

  “Go slow,” he said, hands on my hips, fingers digging into my skin. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He hissed again when I had him fully inside me, arching up into me like he couldn’t help himself. “Shit...shit, mami...” And then, when I started to move, when we found a sweet, slick rhythm, Cruz took over.

  He let me ride him and still somehow held the reins. When he had enough, I went to my back, loving how he held my legs apart, his hands on the backs of my thighs. He
’d moan and swear and tease my clit until I was doing the same, until, at last I felt myself moving closer and closer to the edge.

  “Cruz...ah... go faster...” It was all I needed to say. Minimal words, small movements like my nails digging into his arms, or me clamping my pussy tighter around him, every time I moved, he followed. He was good at reading me, the best at knowing what I wanted from him.

  Then I soared, back arched, him holding me steady, his attention on me as I fell blissfully apart.

  “That’s right, beautiful. That’s what I wanted.” He licked between my breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth, the sweat from his chest and forehead dampening my skin, then Cruz moved, pulled me closer, pushed my legs to his shoulders and worked himself into his own rhythm. He took me deep, playing with my pussy as he fucked me, holding me tight against him as he rocked on top of me. Just when I thought I could not stand more sensation, that he was too much, his perfect, massive cock was more than I could stand, Cruz released my legs, pulling me toward him, his tongue inside my mouth, breath gasping, sweet, as he finally found release.

  He collapsed next to me, chest moving in heavy pants, arms resting over his eyes. I felt boneless, so relaxed that it took several minutes of us calming, quickening breaths easing, growing slower before the gravity of where I was and what I’d done dawned on me. I figured I was supposed to feel guilty. Some old, Catholic sensibility inside me told me I should regret ever stepping foot in this apartment, but for the life of me, I couldn’t muster up anything resembling guilt.

  My body felt electrified. Alive. I had never felt that with Robert. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to feel that again. My thoughts became muddled by the sensation still tingling in my clit, how used and sated I felt, how I knew I’d leave Cruz’s bed and feel what he’d done to me for days afterward. That wasn’t such a bad memory to have.

  But I’d never done the one-night stand thing. I didn’t know how it went. Was he waiting for me to leave? Could I maybe grab a shower before I attempted the walk of shame? Was that out of bounds? I had no clue how this was supposed to go.