by Kelly Myers
Standing there in my skimpy nightgown and robe, I suddenly feel very exposed. Practically naked. I lift my arms to cover myself and release a shaky breath, remembering how his heated lips moved over mine. This is not good. Why am I attracted to this man? I have to put a stop to this now. It’s not good for either of us. “I’m tired. If you need anything, I’ll be in my room.”
He gives a curt nod then heads toward the bathroom, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it over a nearby chair. My heart skips a beat. God, he’s got even more tattoos under there. My breath hitches in my throat as he glances over his shoulder.
But, there’s no smugness in his expression. Just a tired resignation and concern. “I’m going to be walking the perimeter, keeping an eye on things. In case you hear anything, it’s me.”
I can’t form the words to reply when he’s standing there shirtless. I give a quick nod and spin around, heading back down the stairs and to my room before I do something incredibly stupid.
Like throw myself into his arms.
Again.
Safely under my satin sheets, I can’t sleep. It completely eludes me and I have no doubt that I’ll be laying here thinking about Jax until the sun comes up. Every so often, I can hear him prowling around the house and that gives me comfort.
Despite arguing earlier, I know his first priority is to keep me safe and protect me.
The memory of him yanking his t-shirt up and over his head makes my stomach drop and heat curls low in my body. I’ve never known anyone with this much potent sexuality. When he turns it on, it practically oozes off of him.
Even though I only took a quick look, I remember the way his back and shoulders moved, so broad and all smooth skin and muscles. And, when he turned slightly, there was no denying the six-pack abs. He has a tattoo that covers the left side of his chest and brushes up his neck, but I couldn’t exactly tell what it was because I was too busy running away.
“...I bet I can get you to say some pretty naughty words.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
A part of me wants to tempt him. When he was teaching me how to shoot his gun and his body leaned into mine everything got blurry, hot and hard.
“Not too hard,” I said without thinking.
Then, he pushed his lower body against the curve of my back and there was no mistaking the sizable bulge there.
“Are you sure about that?”
I squeeze my legs together and let out a small moan. I spun around so fast and couldn’t get enough of his kisses.
Kissing Jax is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It’s raw and passionate with a feral edge. I don’t know what he’s going to do and, even more frightening, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Because when I’m in his arms and our bodies are flush and hot and moving, he makes me lose my mind a little. With Daniel and even Lincoln, it was predictable. They both had a routine they followed. A minute of kissing, hands here, mouth there. Like it was all choreographed. Then, five minutes in bed, both of them preferring to be on top and practically smothering me.
It was never about my gratification. Only them getting off. Let’s face it, any true pleasure I’ve had, I’ve given to myself.
I’m not kinky, but I always wanted a little more spice. At least an orgasm, but that requires more than a minute of foreplay. Doesn’t it for most women?
My heart starts to pound when I hear Jax moving stealthily down the hallway and then pause outside my room. I know I told him I wanted to keep things professional earlier, but at this moment, if he came in here and slid into my bed, I’d be thrilled.
I hold my breath, waiting.
A moment later, he moves away.
I exhale, feeling both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
Jaxon Wilder is really doing a number on me. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about sex this much in my life. Or tattoos. Or licking those tattoos.
My eyes slide shut, but I’m way too worked up to sleep.
All thanks to the ridiculously hot man currently prowling through my mind and hallways.
12
Jax
I stand outside her bedroom longer than necessary hoping to get a whiff of jasmine or hear her move in her bed or talk in her sleep.
When it doesn’t happen, I move along and head back up the hallway. I re-check locks on windows and doors, make sure everything is safe and secure. It’s my job and I need to keep it professional as she so coolly reminded me.
I feel like an idiot. I shouldn’t have pushed into her and made my throbbing erection known, but I couldn’t help it. I lost control and I think she did, too. No matter what she says.
The cool, little Princess wouldn’t admit how hot I made her. If that phone never rang, I wonder how far things would’ve gone. I was ready to pull that sexy black nightgown off. I wonder if she would’ve stopped me?
I get the feeling that the answer is no.
Fuck. As much as I would enjoy banging Easton Ross, it would have turned into a nightmare. All we did was kiss and look how she reacted. And, she placed all the blame on me.
But, I distinctly remember her lifting that gorgeous face up to meet mine and the way she strained against me on her tiptoes. As if she couldn’t get enough. And, I’ll never forget the feel of her hands running through my hair and scratching the back of my neck.
Even if she can’t admit that she wanted it too, I can admit that it needs to stop. She’s my one and only client. I need to remember that and start thinking with my brain and not my dick. Screwing Easton means screwing my business because if we slept together, she’d pull out faster than I would without protection.
Besides, her blood is far too rich for me. The life she leads and the way she lives is completely foreign to me. I’m a more simple kind of guy. I don’t need all this luxury and a constant entourage to take care of my every need. I like to be alone, sit in my dingy apartment and drink and smoke the demons away.
“You smell like an ashtray.”
Even though I’m shirtless and only in my jeans, I lean down and sniff. I don’t smell anything but I guess a smoker would smell like an ashtray. She’s obviously turned off by smoking and the last thing I want is for anything to cool her passion when she’s around me.
In fact, I’m going to be the one to pull back and keep my distance. And, I hope she gets so wound up around me that she can barely contain herself. I want her laying in that big, expensive bed and thinking about me when she touches herself.
Not fucking Daniel.
I don’t know why I’m being so irrational about this. She has a boyfriend, Jax. Hands off.
I pause in front of a large, floor-to-ceiling window, prop my hand on the steel divider and gaze out into the darkness. She doesn’t want a bum like you. Let it go. Don’t pursue things because if you do, you know how it’ll end.
The people I love die. Plain and simple. My Mom, my Dad, Madison…even my younger brother Sebastian almost died a few years back. But, Bastian has a dark side like me so he’ll keep living. Tortured and lost in the shadows.
I won’t risk Easton, though.
Somewhere deep down in my black soul, a part of me cares about her. I’ll keep her safe, stop the calls and eventually finish the job. Then, I will walk out of Easton Ross’ life forever.
It’s better that way. For both of us.
Or, so I try to convince myself.
With a sigh, I look down at my watch. Almost 4am and everything is quiet. Has been all night. Well, except for when Easton and I had our little blowout. I stifle a yawn and decide to go back upstairs and catch a few hours of sleep.
Once more in the guest room, I pull my jeans off and drop them beside my t-shirt. Then, I lay my Glock on the nightstand and crawl beneath the soft, expensive sheets. It’s cool and comfortable compared to my little hotbox of an apartment. The central air kicks on and off every so often and ceiling fans circulate the coolness.
I slid
e a hand behind my head and feel sleep drift over me quicker than I would’ve expected. For maybe an hour, I rest peacefully.
But, then, like always, the nightmares come.
They always start the same. I see my sister’s smiling face. Like me, she had thick, unruly, dark brown hair, and like Bastion, she had light hazel eyes. Madison was slim and pretty, but growing up between boys, she was an undeniable tomboy who liked to play in the dirt and roughhouse just as much as her brothers.
We were a pretty close trio until our parents died. After that, things just kind of fell apart.
I begin to toss and turn, kicking the sheet off. A fine sheen of perspiration covers my body as the dream gets more intense. And, all of a sudden, it’s a year ago.
I can’t stand the douchebag she’s dating. Tony Zerillo, a gangster wannabe, who tries too hard to be macho. It’s like he’s always trying to prove something. I don’t know what my sister sees in the guy, but no matter what I say, she doesn’t listen.
I have access to a lot of information since I work for the LAPD and the moment I find out Zerillo’s full name, I run him through the system. Of course, he’s in it. His record is a mile long of misdemeanors-- petty theft, public intoxication, disorderly conduct, vandalism, reckless driving and simple assault.
What a fucking loser, I think. My sister is way too good for this idiot.
But, for whatever reason, she claims she’s in love with him. And, that means no matter what I say, Madison will not listen. It’s frustrating as hell because I know that no good will come of this. So, as her big brother and a cop, I do what I can to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s safe.
Unfortunately, Tony Zerillo moves from misdemeanor to felony when he gets involved with some unsavory characters deep in the manufacture, sale and distribution of crystal meth. Somewhere along the way, he crosses somebody and they come after him.
And, poor, innocent Maddy becomes collateral.
I’ll never forget that night and it’s what my nightmares are made of. Talk about the biggest shitshow to ever go down…
The minute I discover Tony Zerillo is arrested for selling meth, I head over to the jail and beat his ass into the ground. That was probably strike one against me, but if I had to do it all over again, I would. I warn him to stay away from Maddy, but the fucker just doesn’t listen. And, neither does she.
Because she goes to visit him and when she finds out that I’m the one responsible for all the bruises, lacerations and broken nose, suddenly I’m the bad guy. Not her dope-dealing boyfriend.
Apparently, Tony got greedy and began to skim money off the top, overcharging and pocketing the extra. Fucking dumb ass. Did he really think the gangsters he was working for wouldn’t find out?
The moment they discover he’s stealing from them, they decide to teach him a lesson. Since he’s safely tucked away in a jail cell, they decide to go after the next best thing.
His woman. My sister.
My gut twists and here’s where the nightmare always picks up. With me getting a frantic call from Maddy, saying a couple of thugs are trying to break into her place. In the dream, I can’t find my gun, which would never be the case in real life, and I race over to her apartment and find the door is wide open. It’s eerily quiet.
When I walk in, it’s clear there’s been a struggle. Shit is knocked over, moved, broken. Heart in my throat, I call her name, running from room to room. Until I stumble into the bathroom and find her laying on the cold tile floor, blood pooling beneath her small, fragile form.
Eight bullet holes pierce her slim body.
Fucking eight.
One would’ve killed her instantly so I’m not sure what kind of monster needed to pull the trigger that many times and shred all 115 pounds of her.
I drop to the floor, gather her into my arms, but I’m too late.
Always too late.
Her blood is still warm and it soaks through my jeans, covers my hands. A sob rips from my throat and with my dead sister’s body turning cool in my lap, I vow to kill whoever is responsible.
That’s where the second part of my nightmare usually begins.
Luckily, there’s only enough time tonight for part one. Downstairs, right below my room, I hear Easton moving around and I bolt upright.
I swipe at my sleepy eyes and glance down at my watch. Six am. Jesus God, this woman likes to wake up at the crack of dawn.
But, I’m grateful for it because at least now I’m awake and not still caught in a night terror.
I wander into the bathroom and throw some cold water on my face. I tear open a box containing a new toothbrush and brush my teeth, take a piss and then slip back into my jeans and t-shirt. That’s about as good as it gets because I have to go down and make sure all is okay.
Make sure Easton is safe.
As I head down the main staircase, I hear her turn the alarm off and open the front door. Some short guy with thick muscles walks in and they hug. I stop mid-step on the staircase and they turn to look at me.
“Bobby, this is Jax, my new security.” She glances at my rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. “Bobby is my personal trainer,” she tells me. “We work out at 6:15 five days a week. If you need anything, I’ll be in the gym”
“Coffee?” I mumble.
“In the kitchen on the counter.”
“Thanks.” I watch them walk away. Bobby probably now thinks she’s sleeping with her “new security.” Good, I’m glad.
In the kitchen, I toss a k-cup into the Keurig and hit the large-size cup button. Blessed, black coffee pours into the mug, hot and steamy just the way I like it. I decide that I want to take Easton to the range and teach her how to really shoot. My sister didn’t like guns and refused to learn, but I think Easton would be game.
Especially after last night’s quick lesson.
And, it would make me feel a helluva lot better knowing she can handle a gun. That, if it came to it, she could aim at an adversary and pull the trigger.
Sipping the coffee, I head down the hallway on the right and follow it to the gym at the back of the house. It’s nothing too fancy from what I remember, but it has some basic equipment and machines that obviously do the trick because Easton’s body is bangin’, I think.
Currently, she’s laying on her back, thrusting her hips up into the air and working those glutes. Oh, Jesus Christ, really? Talk about timing. And, Bobby-boy cheers her on, counting her down. I lean against the wall and enjoy the view for a moment.
“Three, two, one! Way to push through, Easton!” Bobby says and I roll my eyes.
She sits up and eyes me. I take a sip of coffee. “Do you need something?” she finally asks.
“What’s your day like? I want to take you out to the shooting range.”
I see her cheeks spike with color and I know she’s thinking about last night. “I can’t today. I have to get ready for a meeting over at the Chateau Marmont and then plan my wardrobe for an upcoming event.”
“And that takes all day?”
“No, but I have to prepare for a table read tomorrow for a new film. It starts shooting this week.”
“Well, when you have an opening in your busy schedule, let me know.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
We glare at each other.
“I’ll hang out til you leave,” I finally say. “Keep an eye on things.”
“That’s fine,” she says tightly and then turns back to Bobby.
I hate how she writes me off so fast. Just turns away as if I’ve disappeared or something. Like I’m beneath her and she doesn’t have time to deal with me any longer. Whatever.
While Bobby guides her in a new exercise, I wander out, and head back to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee.
It’s not long before the entourage begins to arrive and I turn off the alarm and unlock the door. Olivia breezes in first, followed by a still slightly nervous Jacques the chef. I feel bad about pulling my gun on him and then Griff pulling his gun, too. Oh, wel
l, he'll be fine. Then makeup, hair and wardrobe people. I keep a close eye on everyone.
I hang off in the shadows and observe. After her workout, Easton heads up to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, she’s back downstairs in a cloud of jasmine, instantly surrounded by everyone at once. They all head into the kitchen, talking at once. The guy with the dark eyeliner from the other day, Micah, helps her onto a stool and he starts applying layers of makeup. Meanwhile, a girl named Sylvie blows her hair out, constantly flipping and wrapping strands of her raven hair around a brush. After it’s dry, Sylvie brushes it out, applies some kind of creamy conditioner to the ends and begins maneuvering a curling iron around her head to create soft waves.
Talk about being pampered. Christ. It takes me five minutes to get ready. But, then again, I don’t look half as good as Easton. Shit, I don’t look a quarter as good as she does.
The girl I kissed last night isn’t the same one who sits before me. She’s gone and in her place is an A-list movie star. As Micah applies her signature red lipstick, I start to miss the vulnerable girl from last night who fell into my arms after I raced over here.
I sigh, look down at my watch. What a production.
I’ll be glad to get home for a bit. I figure I’ll swing by my apartment, take a shower and then head over to the P.S. office. If Easton wants me to stay the night again, I will. But, it’s been quiet. No calls or texts.
Maybe her stalker has had his fun and he’s done.
Or, maybe things are just starting to heat up.
Guess we’ll find out soon enough.
13
Easton
Jax doesn’t leave until the car service arrives and I’m safely tucked into the back seat of the black sedan. He leans down and taps on the window. As I roll it down, he lowers that delightfully shaggy head and his dark gaze latches onto mine. “If you want me to stay over again tonight, just text me.”
“Okay,” I say. But, I have no intention of repeating last night’s mistake. I’d also like to get some sleep tonight since I was up the majority of the night listening to him prowl the halls like a restless tiger.