by Sybil Bartel
Food.
I needed food.
And I wanted to get high, but I was damn sure alphahole wasn’t sporting a blunt, so that was out. Besides, the last time I’d snuck out of rehab and smoked pot with one of the night nurses, then sucked his dick afterwards for the contraband weed, I got paranoid as hell. Spending all night wondering if my dead drug dealer was out to get me from the grave wasn’t on my short list of fun activities to repeat, so I’d laid off the weed.
Now it’d been six weeks, and it was the longest I’d been clean from any and every kind of substance since I was like, I don’t know, thirteen.
Maybe twelve.
Whatever.
Fuck my ass size, I needed something to eat.
“What does this dump have that’s decent?” I opened the fridge.
“Food.” His deep voice rumbled behind me.
I hated how I loved that rumble.
His voice was different at night. Less abrasive, and earthier, like we were underground and it was muted by layers of heavy dirt, only loud enough for me to hear. It felt intimate, and oh man, was I falling for it.
I hadn’t even been able to lie still upstairs, thinking about him downstairs. I’d just wanted to hear his voice. I also wanted to smell the skin where his shirt ended and his neck began, but I hadn’t lied about what I’d said. Before tonight, I’d gotten used to falling asleep listening to the sound of other bodies breathing.
Except it wasn’t that sound, that comfort of knowing you weren’t alone, that I was craving tonight. It was simply him. And I wasn’t just craving him, I was actually aching to be near him. Like a switch had been flipped and now I was on another side of life. The side where there was a tree-sized bodyguard in my presence and my very being just instinctively needed to be near him.
Right near him. And his deep voice. And muscles. And ink. And oh my fucking God, I needed to rein it in.
Shaking my head again, I tried to dispel my traitorous thoughts and focus on what was in the fridge.
“Problem?”
I fought a shiver at the dominance in his voice. “Yeah.” Him. And how good his body heat felt radiating down my back like he was close enough to put his arms around me. “There’s nothing good,” I lied.
“It’s fucking stocked, woman.” Grabbing my waist, he picked me up, spun and deposited me behind him. “Get your ass out of the way, princess. Go sit.”
Woman.
Princess.
Yeah. I was in trouble.
Older men were my kryptonite. They always had been. Daddy issues, yay me. I didn’t make any excuses for it, but Shade whatever-his-last-name-was bodyguard was checking off a list even I hadn’t known I had, and I’d had my head shrunk by the best shrinks in the state.
Except the fucker had called me a teenager.
Perching on one of the kitchen stools, I stared at my new obsession. His wide shoulders, ripped biceps and narrow hips were all on display as he pulled shit out of the fridge like he was going to cook a five-course meal.
A guy. Cooking for me.
I smirked.
Kicking the fridge closed with his boot that had to be a size fourteen and dumping shit on the counter, he spared me a glance. “What’s wrong now?”
“Did you seriously ask me if my double Ds were real?” I crossed my arms. Under my braless wonders.
Just like I wanted them to, his dark eyes cut to my chest. “Yep.”
“That’s insulting.” I grew these all on my own.
“You’re small as fuck. Your tits are huge.” He lifted one shoulder like we weren’t having a totally inappropriate, unprofessional conversation between a client and a bodyguard.
“Are you a breast man?” I could practically feel his mouth on me. The thought alone made my pussy clench so hard, I almost reached for the counter to steady myself.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He spared me a glance and winked as the corner of his mouth tipped up.
“Cocky much?” That wink, the almost smile, I hated to admit how hot he was—in a rough, crude, give zero fucks, screw you all night and forget your name by morning sort of way. “Hope that works out for you.”
“Hasn’t failed me yet.” His almost smile turned up to panty melting.
My heart faltered, then stalled completely.
Until that exact moment, I never knew a man who was so dominant, who reeked of bad decisions made too late at night, could be that heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
His smile transformed his whole face.
The lines at the corners of his eyes said he had experience. The crooked bend to one side of his lips said he knew the effect he was having on me, and his unapologetic smirk one hundred percent relayed the message loud and clear—he was every bad boy ever, all rolled into one sinful package.
I was in trouble.
Big trouble.
GETTING OFF FROM THE LOOK on her face, I smiled. It took balls to ask me if I was a breast man, I’d give her that. If she had ten years on her, I probably would’ve been fucking her on the kitchen counter by now.
She rolled her eyes, giving me the exact reminder I needed.
No matter how slamming her body was, or how big her tits were, she was a goddamn teenager.
Nineteen.
Jesus fuck.
Needing to concentrate on anything other than her tits or fucking her, I laid out the sandwich shit. Quietly watching me, she didn’t say anything until I had the food plated and was holding it out to her.
She stared at the sandwich. “My stepmom used to cook for me. Even after she divorced my father, she kept up with the Sunday dinners.” Her eyes met mine. “It’s not like Leo Amherst ever cooked for me.”
I fought to keep from calling her old man a tool. He hadn’t called his only kid once since I’d picked her up from rehab, let alone checked-in with me or Luna to see if she was still in one piece. And I wasn’t touching the fact that he couldn’t be bothered to pick her up himself. “I’m not your father, and I didn’t cook.” I assembled. “It’s a sandwich.”
She took the plate and dropped her gaze. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” I sat down next to her. Then I did what I hadn’t done in years, except for the restaurant this afternoon—I ate a meal with a woman.
No words between us, she finished her sandwich, and I didn’t know what I liked more. The fact that she ate it all or that the silence between us was comfortable and she didn’t feel the need to fill it. The irony wasn’t lost on me that the similarities between us were stacking up.
Without comment, she stood and took our plates to the sink.
I watched her in the kitchen, and truth be told, I never imagined a woman in here. I’d bought the place as a backup, somewhere to get off the grid. And when I’d furnished it, I definitely hadn’t been thinking about a woman. But seeing her in my kitchen, her small hands washing the heavy plates I’d bought because they’d looked like they’d take a beating without breaking, the shit circumstances of my life were suddenly in my face.
The countertops were too high for her.
The plates were too heavy.
The sink was too deep for her to comfortably set dishes in.
The upper cupboards were eye level with her.
She didn’t fit a goddamn thing about this place, but fuck me, she looked damn good in my kitchen.
Setting the last fork on the drain board, she shut the water off, then dried her hands on a kitchen towel I wasn’t sure I’d washed before I put it out. Carefully folding it back over the oven door, she turned to me. “Thanks for dinner.” Her cheeks flushed. “And lunch.”
Staring at her, I didn’t get up. “You’re welcome.”
Looking nervous as hell, she glanced around the kitchen. “This cabin is pretty stocked for a place you don’t live at full-time.”
“Caretaker. I texted him from the road.”
She nodded, but she still wouldn’t look at me. “Well, I guess it’s late. You must be tired.”
I wasn’t tired. I wa
s amped, and my dick was hard. I wanted my hands on her tits more than I should, and her nervousness was only feeding into my twisted thoughts. “I need to do a perimeter check and pull in some firewood from the shed.”
Her head snapped up and worry creased her brow. “You’re going out there again?” She glanced out the kitchen window. “It’s like, feet deep now.”
I chuckled. “Pretty sure I can handle it, sweetheart.” Pushing the stool back, I stood. “But thanks for the concern. Get some shut-eye, and we’ll reassess in the morning.” I turned toward the door.
“Shade?”
I looked back.
Her gaze dropped, her hands twisted, and her voice went quiet. “Please don’t make me sleep alone.”
Staring at her, I took in every inch of her pretty features, but nothing about her was as it looked.
Her body was a woman’s, and some of the shit she said? Christ, her age was arbitrary at best. They didn’t make nineteen-year-olds like her when I was her age. Then again, I’d never known anyone who was rich before I’d become a bodyguard.
And that fucking kiss?
Goddamn, that was no kiss from a kid.
But she was a kid. Or barely grown up enough to vote, let alone drink. I’d be lying if I said she didn’t look young as hell without makeup, standing in the middle of my kitchen. I’d also be lying if I said she wasn’t beautiful. But I’d be a fucking tool to overlook the circumstances surrounding this whole damn mess. Not to mention, when you stripped her down, she was insecure from a shit upbringing, shittier choices, and every damn thing about her right now was vulnerable as hell.
I was an asshole for thinking about the shit I wanted to do to her body.
Lifting her head, her blue as fuck eyes caught me in the chest before traveling up. “I’m not looking to be a cliché. I know how this looks. The rich client takes a walk on the wild side, as you put it. But I just….” She looked away, took a deep breath and brought her stark eyes back to me. “I know you slept with another client, and I don’t want to be that to you. Just some random fuck of convenience, or whatever. I swear I’m not asking for that. I just—I don’t want to sleep alone.” Dropping her gaze again, she clenched her hands, then spoke in a rush. “I told you about rehab, how we were never alone, and I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I got used to it.”
“You’re not alone.” It was a shit answer, but that was all I had. I couldn’t say no to her. Not to her reason. I wasn’t such an asshole that I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. I spent ten years in the Marines sharing barracks, trenches, murder holes and a whole damn list of shittier places to sleep with my brothers.
I remembered my first night home after being medically retired.
Longest fucking night of my life.
If she’d been in my place that night, you bet your ass I wouldn’t have slept in a different room from her. But that didn’t mean I needed to take advantage of her now.
Her voice went fuck-my-life quiet. “I promise not to start anything. I swear.”
“Listen.” Christ, her sad eyes were killing me. “I’m not—”
“Just one night,” she begged.
Making a decision I shouldn’t, I issued an order. “Come here.”
Flinching slightly, but then walking toward me with the grace of a model, she stood proud in front of me like the perfect little contradiction she was. Not saying a damn word, she looked up and gave me her eyes.
Naturally submissive, she was the type of woman that made my shit tick.
Hard as fuck, salivating with deviant thoughts, I grasped her chin. “What are the rules?”
“Call you Shade. Follow your orders.”
My cock pulsed, and I gripped her harder. “Do not put your hands on me. Do not ask for a goddamn thing. Do not throw yourself at me. Understood?”
For two beats, she didn’t say shit. Then she slayed me. “You’re touching me. Why can’t I touch you?”
“Because I’ll fuck you.”
Her lips parted and she sucked in a quick breath. Then she went determined still. “So?”
“That’s not a promise you want.” I’d gotten her shot at. I wasn’t going to lie to her on top of it. “I’m the last thing you need.” She was small as shit. My cock alone would fucking destroy her.
“I didn’t say—”
“Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know what’ll happen if we get horizontal and let our guards down. You kissed me, woman. You know what’s in your head.”
Innocently, unconsciously, she licked her bottom lip where I’d bit her. “I didn’t mean….” She cleared her throat. “Okay, I meant exactly that,” she admitted. “In my defense, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. It was—I don’t know.” She pulled out of my grasp and became the trust fund brat. “Fine, whatever. I’m not going to beg you to sleep in the same room with me.” She turned.
Before I knew what the hell I was doing, I grasped her by the nape. “Stop.”
A shiver went up her spine, and I felt her skin react under my hand. Then she turned to face me and the trust fund brat became the woman with brass. “Don’t tease me, Shade.”
“Answer one question,” I demanded, issuing an order that was one hundred percent self-serving. “How many other L&A men have you come on to?” I knew the fucking answer. Every single one that’d been her handler.
Her shoulders rose with an inhale before sinking in defeat. “Two, but I was high both times.” She turned to face me. “If I had been like I am now, I wouldn’t have.”
My hand still on her neck, I didn’t let go of her, but I fucking should have. “Is that supposed to impress me?” The thought of her fucking another L&A prick pissed me off, and suddenly I was giving her shit that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the possessive thoughts that’d been running through my head since she’d come barreling down a mountain after me. “You’re more selective when you’re sober. Is that the line you’re gonna feed me? Or let me guess, I’m special.” Same goddamn bullshit I’d heard from Cara, same goddamn bullshit I’d heard from the woman I’d given a ring to before I’d deployed for my first time, and the same goddamn bullshit I’d made sure I’d become immune to a long damn time ago.
Summer blinked.
“That’s what I thought.” Pissed at myself, but taking it out on her, I dropped my hand and reminded myself that when it came right down to it, all women were the same. “Go upstairs.”
“You know that’s not what this is,” she protested.
I knew exactly what this was. The question was, did I care? “Not my first rodeo, sweetheart.” Getting dangerously close to saying fuck it, I wondered how tight her cunt would be.
“I want you,” she blurted. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m curious. I’m turned on. I want you to kiss me again.” She threw her hands up. “What the hell is wrong with that?”
I let loose with a cynical laugh. “Everything. Trust me, you don’t want me.” Rehab or not, she had her whole damn life ahead of her, and the fact she’d come after me a couple times didn’t mean shit except I was her bodyguard and she needed me to protect her.
“You don’t feel this, this”—she waved her hand between us—“connection between us?”
I looked her straight in the eye and did what I told myself two fucking seconds ago I wouldn’t.
I lied.
“No.” I lied to both of us. “My dick hard and wondering what your cunt tastes like doesn’t mean there’s something between us.” Already racking up the asshole points, I went for broke and piled on the lies. “Fucking you wouldn’t be a connection.” Dragging my thumb across her bottom lip, I leaned closer. “It’d be orgasms.” Smelling her desire, I paused a beat. “A lot of fucking orgasms.”
OH.
My.
God.
Desire surged between my legs, and I didn’t know if I hated his dirty talk and crudeness or if I wanted him more for it.
My secret thick on my tongue, unable to thin
k of a single response because I was fixated on what having his dominant mouth between my legs would feel like, I did the first smart thing I’d done since waking up this morning.
I retreated.
Doing what I should’ve done an hour ago, I walked back upstairs.
To my disappointment, he didn’t stop me.
My bottom lip on fire, my neck still tingling where he’d held me with intent, my core pulsing with hungry, incessant need, I went straight to the masculine bedroom that screamed Shade Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was, and sat my ass down on the bed.
Covering my face with my hands, I rocked forward and relived my embarrassment. “Jesus, Summer, what the fuck?” I whispered. A hot second out of rehab, and I was already screwing up so badly, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never surface.
What the hell was I thinking, coming on to man like Shade?
That he’d what? Take me to bed and fuck me nice?
I was an idiot.
And his ex?
I hated her and her designer dress and Jimmy Choo heels. Older, more sophisticated, she wasn’t some skank. She was in the same league as my stepmother, and Fallon was a supermodel. No, she was the supermodel. Elegant, graceful, reserved, she was everything I wasn’t. I’d spent my entire adolescence trying to be like her before I gave up.
I would never be that.
I may have been raised with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I didn’t have the kind of patience to have poise, and I sure as hell didn’t have the compassion my stepmother did with her charity that helped sick kids.
Not that Shade’s psycho ex looked like she spent a single second on the charity circuit, but she was beautiful. Beautiful and put together, and he didn’t have to pick her ass up from rehab.
“Fuck my life,” I whispered.
“Hell of a thing to say, princess.” His deep voice rumbled from the open doorway.
Jumping out of my skin, I started. My hand flew to my chest, and my breath caught, but the real shock came when I looked up.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he pushed off the doorway and walked into the bedroom. “What’s wrong with your life?”