Dark Kisses

by Kelly Myers

  After laying here the last two hours, I finally figured it out.

  Jasmine.

  Easton is always surrounded by a cloud of jasmine and it drives me crazy. Makes me want to do things to her that I’m not allowed to do.

  And, when she presses those red lips together, moving them against each other in that seductive way, I can hardly stand it. God, I want to kiss her. Take that luscious mouth in mine, smear that red lipstick all over and thrust my tongue deep. I bet she tastes like candy. Sweet and delicious.

  My thoughts are not helping me sleep and I groan. They’re riling me up more and just when I think I should get up and take a cold shower, my cell rings. I grab it, look at the caller i.d. and see Easton’s name. My heart stutters and I glance at the clock as I slide the bar over to answer. It’s almost midnight.

  “Easton? Are you okay?” Worry fills my voice and as worst-case scenarios spin through my head, I hear her lush voice.

  And, it’s full of fear.

  “He just texted me, Jax! On my cell phone! How does he have that number? Nobody has it.”

  I jump out of bed. “I’m coming over,” I say, grabbing my jeans off the back of a chair and sliding them on. “The alarm is set?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re safe,” I assure her, zipping and buttoning my jeans. Cradling the phone against my ear, I reach for my gun and slip it in the waistband between my jeans and back. I shove my feet into a pair of boots, snag a t-shirt and move toward the front door. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispers. Then, “Hurry, Jax.”

  “Hang tight, baby.” I hang up and I’m out the door with my keys, helmet and leather jacket. I throw a leg over my Norton Commando and kickstart the bike with a good long swing, putting my whole body into it and, for once, she starts right away.

  Good, old girl.

  The bike ride to Easton’s is a little over six miles and I fly. Luckily, it’s late and I can weave through and around any cars I encounter. I floor it up Santa Monica Boulevard and make my way over to Fountain in record time. Then, I turn briefly onto La Cienega and take a left onto Sunset Boulevard. I lean into a right turn on Sunset Plaza and make my way up. Up, up, up into the hills until I hit Blue Jay Way.

  It’s fucking dark up here. For all the money these people pay to live over here, they should at least have some decent street lighting, I think. But, I know exactly where I’m going. Could get to Easton Ross’s house with my eyes closed.

  I pull into the circular driveway, jump off the bike and jog up to her front door. It’s already opening and I don’t even have my helmet off before she’s in my arms. The scent of jasmine envelops me and all those soft curves mold against my hard body.

  No woman has ever fit so perfectly against me.

  “It’s okay. I’m here, Princess,” I say and stroke my hand up and down her back. God, she’s trembling. “I got you.”

  I can hear her sniffle and realize she must’ve been crying.

  “Let’s go inside.” I pull her through the front door, still coiled around me like a snake, and kick the door shut behind us. Then, I reach over her and punch in 2212. As the countdown to arm begins, she loosens her grip a little and looks up at me with tear-bright, emerald eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  I lift my hand and swipe away a wet spot on her cheek with the tip of my index finger. “I wasn’t sleeping,” I say. I tilt the helmet off my head, set it on a nearby table and she finally lets go and takes a step back.

  “Oh. If you had a guest-”

  “No. I just...wasn’t tired.”

  Christ Almighty, she looks so young and vulnerable. And, stunningly beautiful. She stands before me in all her natural glory. No makeup, no fancy clothes. Her raven hair hangs in loose waves, that artfully-mussed, sexy bedhead and her creamy, flawless skin glows. Instead of bright red, her lips are full and dark pink.

  And, she’s never looked more gorgeous.

  Then, I take in the little, silky black number she’s wearing. It’s beyond sexy and even though the matching robe doesn’t cover much, it still leaves plenty to my imagination.

  But, now is not the time.

  “Where’s your phone?” I ask.

  “In the bedroom.”

  Of course, it is. We walk down the hall and head to the master bedroom. First thing I notice is the rumpled sheets on the large bed. I want to pull a handful up to my face and inhale the jasmine scent that I know covers them.

  Easton grabs her phone off the nightstand and passes it to me. The moment our hands touch, it’s like sparks flash between us, and a fire stokes low in my belly. I am so hot for this woman. Like I’ve never been for anyone before and surely never will be for anyone again.

  Maybe after all this over…

  Yeah, right. Then, she will move on with her life and you’re going to be sitting around like a besotted fool wondering where she is and who’s warming her bed. Idiot.

  I force myself to focus on the situation and open her text messages. The newest one reads, “Hope you liked the flowers.”

  I check the number and I’m not surprised to see it’s private. Whoever is doing this, he doesn’t want his identity discovered. “Who has your cell number?”

  “Barely anyone,” she says. “Just a handful of people, really.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll check a few things out. Call your service provider in the morning. Who knows? This may turn out to be a good thing and we’ll get a lead.”

  She nods, arms wrapped around her middle, and I see a tremor run through her small frame. Being all alone in this big house is getting to her.

  “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to stay here the rest of the night,” I tell her. “Keep an eye on things.”

  Relief floods her face. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

  I want to touch her, reassure her, draw her into my arms. Instead, I clench my hands into fists.

  “I’m just really on edge,” she admits.

  “Completely understandable.”

  “Well, let me show you where the guest room is,” she says. Then, she pauses. “Actually, there’s one down here and one upstairs. Which would you prefer?”

  “Whichever is closer to your room,” I say. I need to be as close to her as possible in case something happens and I need to reach her fast.

  Her eyes seem to darken a shade. “Upstairs, then.” She points to a small spiral staircase in the corner of her room. “That connects my room to the upstairs guest room.”

  I feel my groin tighten. How convenient. I could slip right down those steps and into her bed in less than five seconds. I force a nod and sweep my hand toward the staircase. “After you.”

  The iron stairs are small and the spiral is tight. I follow up behind Easton, eyeing her bare legs for a brief moment...then my gaze moves up to linger on her sweet ass.

  At the top, we reach another bedroom with a fairly large, comfortable-looking bed. The view mimics hers, overlooking the back patio and the hills and city beyond, except just higher.

  “There’s an attached bathroom over there,” she says.

  I nod, shrug out of my leather jacket and toss it on the bed. Then, I reach around and pull my Glock out. She watches closely as I set it on the nightstand. Thinking it makes her uncomfortable, I push back a lock of hair and eye her closely. “I can keep it in the drawer, if you want, but I like to have it within reach.”

  Easton walks over and checks it out. “May I?” she asks, extending a hand to pick it up.

  My eyes narrow. I don’t like anyone messing with my gun. Especially a woman who looks like she’s never held one a day in her life. I walk over, swipe it up and eject the magazine. Then, I hand the weapon over to her.

  She raises a dark brow and smiles. “What? Do you think I’d accidentally pull the trigger?”

  My mouth edges up and I run a hand over the scruff on my jawline. “You said it, not me.”

  “Give me
some credit.” She flips it over and reads the imprint on the gun’s grip. “Glock. What should I know about a Glock, Mr. Wilder?” She takes aim at the picture on the wall and peers down the rear sights.

  I smirk. She looks really adorable holding my gun. Too bad she’s doing it all wrong. I saunter over and bump her arm which makes it jump.

  “Hey!” she cries.

  “Your form is all wrong.”

  Easton lowers the gun and stands up straight. “No one’s ever complained about my form before,” she says with a smirk.

  I bet they haven’t, baby.

  “Show me then,” she says in a low voice.

  I take her by surprise when I slide my booted foot between her small feet and spread her legs further apart to adjust her stance. “Feet apart, knees slightly bent,” I say. A flush heats her cheeks and I feel a smile tug my lips.

  I’m going to enjoy this.

  I lay my hands on her silk-covered hips, turning them, leaning close, lowering my mouth next to her ear. “Place your weight on your back leg,” I say, running my hand down her hip to the side of her upper thigh.

  When I hear her swift intake of breath, I continue, my warm breath rustling her dark hair. “It’s all about your breathing,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “First, let me show you how to hold it.”

  She nods, stretches her arms out.

  “Keep the barrel in line with your arm.” Since she’s right-handed, I stretch my right arm along hers, aligning them. I wrap my hand over hers and slide her finger over, off the trigger, and straighten it out. “Index finger points toward the target. And, always maintain a firm grip.”

  “Now what?” she asks, her voice low and husky. I move my other hand back up her thigh and rest it on her left hip. It itches to pull the little nightgown up and over her head.

  She sounds breathless and I inhale her jasmine-scented hair. My eyes slide shut and I’m instantly hard as hell. I love the feel of her body and I press my chest against her back. “Remember your breathing. First, inhale…”

  I see her chest rise.

  “Let part of it out...hold your breath...then shoot.” I nudge her finger back over the trigger and squeeze my finger over hers, pulling it. “Otherwise, you won’t stay on target.”

  “Not too hard,” she says.

  I push my lower body against her. “Are you sure about that?”

  Her arm drops, I snatch the gun from her loose grip, and she spins around in my arms. Before I even realize what’s happening, I slant my mouth down toward hers and she pushes up on tiptoes to meet me.

  The moment our mouths meet it’s spontaneous combustion.

  Holy fucking hell.

  I can’t get enough of her. As my mouth devours hers, I round my hands over her ass and yank her up against me. “Make no mistake, Princess,” I rasp, trailing my mouth down the side of her neck, flicking my tongue along her smooth skin. “It’s hard.”

  With a soft moan, she tilts her head back, offering me better access. I feel her hands slide through my hair, cup the back of my neck.

  I was right. She tastes like candy-- so very sweet.

  Just as my lips move back up and capture her mouth again, the phone rings. We pull apart, a little dazed, and she blinks. “That’s my cell,” she says.

  Ignoring the throbbing in my pants, I dart over to the spiral staircase and circle down to her room. I swipe her phone from the nightstand and answer it. “Hello?” I say, out of breath and in as dark a tone as I can muster.

  Silence.

  “Who the fuck is this?” I demand.

  “Daniel. Who the fuck is this?”

  Shit. Maybe I should’ve checked the caller i.d., but I was too discombobulated from Easton’s sweet little, responsive body. I move the phone away from my ear and hand it over to her.

  Easton, looking guilty as hell, lifts the phone to her ear. “Daniel?” she says. When he responds, her eyes slide shut and she turns away from me.

  I clench my jaw. The boyfriend. I have to admit, I’m kind of curious to hear how she explains a strange man answering her phone at 12:30am.

  “I already told you,” she says, lowering her voice. “Yes, the security guy. I know it’s late, but I got a call on my-”

  She sighs, begins pacing.

  “No, you can’t come over. Because I said so. He’s here because-”

  When she turns back around, she avoids eye contact with me.

  Fuck this. I turn and stomp back up the spiral staircase. I find it really fucking interesting that Easton has a boyfriend who’s never around. And, when she gets a threatening call on her cell phone who does she call? Me. Not Daniel or whatever the hell his name is.

  And, why is that? I wonder. If Easton Ross were my girlfriend, I sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving her all alone every night in that big, empty bed with some stalker on the loose. Hell, stalker or not, I’d be here every night, making her come so hard she’d think she’s going to die from sheer pleasure. I shove a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face.

  Goddammit to hell. I’m fucking pissed.

  A minute ago, she was melting in my arms and now she’s getting a booty call from Daniel. And, she wouldn’t even look at me. My blood boils as I stalk over and pull the pack of Marlboros from my leather jacket.

  On the balcony, I light one up and inhale deeply.

  If Easton Ross thinks I’m interested in some asshole’s sloppy seconds then she’s got another thing coming.

  Either she’s his or she’s mine.

  I don’t share.

  11

  Easton

  I suffer through Daniel’s third-degree for another few minutes then we hang up. I’m not sure why he’s acting like he cares. He hasn’t spent the night here in over a month and whenever I mention the phone calls, he tells me that a stalker is great PR.

  Maybe he’s jealous because another man is here. Daniel is the one who should be here, but I’m glad he’s not. I wouldn’t feel nearly as safe. Jax is strong, capable and armed. He’s got experience with this type of thing as a former cop.

  If the stalker actually gets into the house and comes after me, Daniel would be the first one running out the door, pushing past me in his haste to escape.

  But, now I feel bad. I was just kissing Jax and then my boyfriend called.

  Ugh, Daniel is barely my friend. I really need to break it off with him as soon as possible. I don’t want Jax to think I’m a cheater and a terrible person. Somewhere along the way, his opinion of me started to matter.

  I twist my hands, clasping and unclasping them, knowing I need to go upstairs and somehow make this better. If that’s even possible. I take a deep breath and head up the spiral staircase.

  Jax stands on the balcony, leaning against the rail. I instantly smell smoke and wrinkle my nose. God, I hate cigarettes. No one is allowed to smoke in my house or near me, for that matter. No exceptions.

  “Can you put that out?” I ask.

  He spins around, leans lazily back, elbows on the railing, and inhales more chemicals. Then, he leisurely blows the smoke out from the side of his mouth. “I’m almost done,” he says.

  My eyes narrow at his defiance. His arrogance. I’m not sure what he expects, but I doubt it’s me walking right over, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and stubbing it out. “You’re done,” I tell him and pitch the butt into a trash can. “You smell like an ashtray.”

  “Wow. That was rude.”

  “No. Smoking in someone else’s house without permission is rude.”

  He stands up straight, scrubs a hand across his chin and laughs. “Sorry, Princess.”

  I can tell he’s mad because his tone and gaze are cool. Chilly, in fact. The call from Daniel, no doubt, but it’s really none of his business. I shouldn’t have to explain my personal life to a man I hardly know. A man who I’m paying to protect me.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask and cross my arms.

  “Nope.”


  “Good.” I turn and glance at the staircase. I just want to leave and go back down to my room. “I should let you get to bed. It’s late.”

  For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, but I feel that intense, cool gaze on me. When I find the courage to look up, his mouth edges up in a mock smile. “So that’s how it goes...”

  It’s more of a statement than a question. And, suddenly, I feel like a tease. Why did I kiss him back? What was I thinking earlier when I thought I wanted to seduce him?

  God, this is madness.

  I bite my lip. “What do you mean?”

  But, he only shakes his dark, unruly head. “Nothing.”

  I take a tentative step closer. “What happened earlier...It shouldn’t have. And, I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted, Miss Ross.”

  Is he kidding? He’s letting me take all the blame? I don’t think so. “I think it’s important that you conduct yourself in a professional manner from now on. Is that clear?”

  The look that crosses his chiseled face is priceless, but I’ll be damned before he pins this all on me.

  “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t want you to cheat on your boyfriend again.”

  I want to slap that smug look off his handsome face. Instead, I clench my hands into fists. “My relationship with Daniel is none of your concern.”

  “I disagree. Especially when you just had your tongue down my throat.”

  My mouth drops. “You arrogant, self-righteous, egotistical-” My voice trails off. I’m on the verge of swearing. Something I never do unless I’m beyond angry.

  He raises a brow. “Asshole? Bastard? C’mon, Princess, tell me what I already know.”

  I grit my teeth together. How did I ever find Jaxon Wilder attractive? Now that I’m seeing his true colors, I realize he’s a jerk just like all the others. “I don’t use those words,” I say in a prim tone. “I have a little more class than that.”

  “Do you? Because I bet I can get you to say some pretty naughty words.”

  I lift my chin. “I seriously doubt that.”

  His chocolate gaze heats up and slides down my body. “Don’t tempt me.”