Guarded Desires

by Couper, Lexxie

  No lips touched Chris’s throat. Instead, there was just the sound of Liev’s ringing cell phone and the waiting silence from outside.

  Finally, Chris opened his eyes and, without looking at Liev, stepped away from the door. He needed to regain control. Of himself, of the surreal absurdity of the situation. The only way he could do that was to step away from Liev. To show him—to show the world—he was composed. Relaxed. He crossed to the office desk, rested his butt on the edge and folded his arms. “I’m ready.”

  His stomach a broiling mess of denied lust and conflicted anger, Liev nodded at his boss and opened the door just as his mobile stopped ringing.

  The man who had helped them through the crowd stood on the threshold, worry eating up his face. “Ah, Mr. Reynolds,” he burst out, a concerned smile spreading over his lips. His hair was still disheveled but not as much as it had been before. An attempt had been made to return order. Liev could understand that. He wanted to return order to the madness his life had become.

  “Is everything okay?” the man asked, wringing his hands together.

  “It is.”

  “I’m very sorry for what happened. I’m afraid one of our junior waitresses called a friend of hers who happens to be a fan of Mr. Huntley. It seemed to have escalated from there.” The man took a tentative step into the room, his worried gaze seeking out Chris. “Please let me assure you, Mr. Huntley, she has been fired.”

  “No, no.” Chris held up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t do that.” He smiled the boyish smile that had earned him a place at the top of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive list two years running. “I’m not hurt. Nothing bad happened. Besides, I remember what I was like the first time I met Bill Murray. I went a bit stupid, I’m afraid.” His smile turned to a grin. “I’m pretty certain I ended up slobbering on his feet and promising to fetch him a newspaper.”

  The man laughed and flicked a still-hesitant glance at Liev.

  “I take it you’re the owner of the restaurant?” Chris asked, pushing himself from the office desk to cross to the door.

  His shoulder brushed Liev’s as he passed, and it was all Liev could do not to let out a ragged groan. Fuck, how was he to do his job now he’d tasted Chris’s lips? Felt his cock hard against his own?

  “I am.” The man in the suit held out his hand. “Monty Dwyer. Please accept my apologies a—”

  Liev’s phone started ringing again.

  Muttering an apology, Liev stepped backward, allowing Monty Dwyer to speak to Chris as he took the call.

  “Is Mr. Huntley safe?” Bethany’s composed voice sounded through the connection.

  “He is. Are you?”

  “I’m fine. Jeff and I went for a drive around the block. I had to tell him to stay to the left twice.”

  Liev laughed in spite of himself.

  “Did you keep him close?”

  Bethany’s question sent tight ropes of tension through Liev’s chest. “I did.”

  “Why didn’t you answer the phone when I first rang?”

  Because I was tongue-fucking our boss against a door.

  The confession played through Liev’s mind like a wicked taunt. “I was dealing with the situation.”

  “I want details later.”

  He snorted at Bethany’s calm demand. “Tough. You’re not going to get them.”

  Bethany chuckled. “Yes, I will,” she said, and then hung up.

  Suppressing a growl, Liev shoved his phone back into his pocket. Chris’s P.A. was an enigma. A frustrating, feisty enigma who seemed to have an agenda regarding their boss that Liev couldn’t decipher but somehow seemed to be a part of.

  Which made her his new favourite woman in the world.

  Or his least.

  Chapter Six

  Chris had only been six when the film, The Bodyguard was released. As he grew up and developed a taste for movies, he tended to prefer the violent type pumped full of testosterone, guns and smartasses. Hence, when the Twitter hashtag called #thebodyguard took flight he needed to visit IMDb to understand the connection.

  Looking at the poster for The Bodyguard on the film-database site also clarified the rather impressive images contained in quite a few of the Tweets about him and Liev. The poster for the film had Kevin Costner in his prime carrying a cowering Whitney Houston in his arms. Some clever bastard somewhere in the world had done a rather impressive Photoshop job of replacing Costner’s face with a scowling Liev and Whitney’s face with Chris’s.

  He’d be laughing his ass off now at the art if it wasn’t for the fact all he could think about was another image attached to the incident outside the restaurant. One accredited to a photographer called Holston.

  That image made Chris’s chest tight and his mouth dry.

  Slumped in one of the armchairs on the balcony, a whole eighteen hours after the restaurant debacle, the morning sun warm on his face, he stared at the image on his iPad. It was attached to an article about the “restaurant riot” on TMZ.com, taking up a place of pride on the celebrity-gossip site’s front page.

  In the image Chris was still sitting in the SUV, just about to climb out of the Audi. He was looking up at Liev who stood glowering at the surrounding crowds. The shot was a little blurred, but not enough to hide from Chris what he knew was there in his eyes.

  Desire.

  If he needed proof of what he was feeling for Liev Reynolds, it was right there in that image. If the force of their kiss in the office yesterday didn’t tell him, the look in his eyes as he gazed up at Liev in the image did.

  Open desire.

  Thank God, it seemed he was the only one so far to recognize it. Not a single tweet or article had mentioned it yet. The main focus was on how the crowd of mostly screaming women had turned to a frenzied mob and how “the Australian bodyguard” had saved him.

  That morning, just about every breakfast program had run a clip currently trending on YouTube. It featured slow-motion footage of Liev protecting Chris from the crowd, cut with various bootleg scenes from Dead Even to the sounds of Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You.

  Once again, Chris would have been laughing at the whole thing, would have jumped right on in and participated in the fun. If not for the fact the truth of the situation was right there in his eyes.

  He’d done it before, made fun of himself along with the world. His favourite running gag was the time the rumour had swept through Hollywood that he’d had a penis extension. He’d spent the next twenty-four hours after the rumour surfaced tweeting images of his new schlong, images of cucumbers, cacti and rock formations in the Utah desert. When it came to his public image, Chris was happy to play the comedic fool.

  He didn’t know how to play the fool in this one. No matter how long he looked at the image of Liev standing over him outside the restaurant, protecting him from the crowd, no matter how often he watched the YouTube clip, all he could think about was the kiss that came after.

  The kiss…fuck, the kiss.

  Throwing his iPad onto the coffee table, he let out a ragged sigh. Since waking two hours ago this morning, he’d taken calls from his agent, his manager, the studio execs, his fellow Dead Even stars and numerous Hollywood identities. All asked if he was okay.

  He’d given them all the same response. “These Australians are wild. Must be their criminal heritage.”

  Everyone laughed. Everyone told him they were glad he was okay. A multiple Academy-award winning actor who’d never spoken to him before called from the States to suggest Chris contact the person responsible for the YouTube clip and offer him an editing job on his next film.

  Chris had laughed along with them, all the while his gut a churning mess, his heart a hammering tattoo and his mind replaying the kiss over and over and over again.

  What would they say if they knew what he was thinking about? What would they say if they knew what he’d done?

  Not just that he’d kissed a man—that he’d initiated it. That he’d wanted it. Wanted Liev’s tong
ue in his mouth, his saliva mixing with his. Wanted Liev’s body pressed to his. What would his Hollywood colleagues say? The sitcom star about to be crowned the new action blockbuster king kissing a man and wanting so much more.

  What would they say if they knew he’d wanted so much more?

  If the apologetic, worried owner of the restaurant hadn’t knocked on the door, more is exactly what would have taken place. Chris didn’t doubt that at all.

  Jesus, he’d already started to release Liev’s fly. Even now, hours later, he was still rocked by the intoxicating rush of hot blood the sound the lowering zipper had sent through his body. Even now, heady lust and need turned his every breath to a shallow, rapid pant. He’d never ever experienced such raw, potent, concentrated pleasure with a woman as he had in that one savage kiss with Liev. Never.

  A low groan tore at his chest and he closed his eyes.

  The object of his confused-as-shit desire was currently working out in the gym downstairs, as far away from Chris as he could be without leaving the property.

  Neither of them had addressed the kiss.

  Bethany had arrived in the restaurant a few minutes after Liev had opened the door to Monty Dwyer and the luncheon interview with the reporter for Empire had taken place.

  It had gone well. Really well. Chris knew the journalist had been smitten with him. She’d laughed in all the right places, hung on his every word and blushed when he’d flirted with her. But the whole time a part of his mind had been with Liev, who’d spent the duration of the interview outside the restaurant, standing guard at the door.

  It had occurred to Chris more than once during the meal the only place he wanted the Australian to be was beside him at the table. It had little to do with Liev’s sexy Australian accent and everything to do with the way Chris felt…complete when the man was near him.

  Not just safe, but complete.

  Which only confused Chris more. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t whole until then.

  The one person he wanted to talk to, his sister, hadn’t called, no doubt too busy being a brand new mom. He didn’t bear any grudge or malice. Rowan had spent her adult life looking after him. It was about time she focused on her own life now. And it was probably a good thing Aslin hadn’t called. Chris didn’t know what he’d say if his brother-in-law asked about the crowd at the restaurant. Confess everything? What would the ex-British SAS commando do if Chris told him he’d kissed the man Aslin had assigned to protect him?

  Hell, what would Aslin do to Liev?

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Huntley.” Bethany’s calm, efficient voice jerked him out of his ponder and he opened his eyes. His personal assistant stood beside the armchair, her crazy mane of wild red ringlets ablaze in the morning sun. “But you have a press conference for Dead Even on the other side of Sydney Harbour in an hour and fifteen minutes.”

  “I don’t want to go,” he muttered, closing his eyes again.

  “You have to.” A shadow fell over his face and he cracked one eye open just enough to see her lean over him and retrieve his empty glass from the table. “Or the people of the world will laugh at you.”

  Chris pulled a face. “I’m an award-winning sitcom star. Of course they are going to laugh.”

  “At you, Mr. Huntley.” Her tone grew reproachful. “Not with you. And as clever as that YouTube clip you keep watching over and over is, you don’t want to be known as the action blockbuster star who went into hiding after being swarmed by fans, do you?”

  Chris grunted and wriggled deeper into his seat.

  “Do I need to go get Liev? Have him drag you out of that chair and toss you into the shower?”

  At Bethany’s threat, an image of Liev naked and dripping wet in the shower filled Chris’s head. Prickling heat flooded his cheeks. Steely heat sank into his groin. “Liev, Liev. Liev.” He scowled. “First-name basis with my bodyguard but you still call me Mr. Huntley. Anyone would think you have something going on with the man.”

  “He’s incredibly good looking, powerful, intelligent, a firefighter when he’s not protecting VIPs and has that sexy Australian accent.” Bethany cocked an eyebrow. “Who wouldn’t have a thing for him?”

  If it was possible, Chris’s cheeks grew hotter. He grunted.

  Bethany smiled. “And then there are his lips. Have you really looked at his lips? They are so defined. So sensual. They almost mock the squareness of his jaw and the muscled column of his neck. I can’t help but wonder what they would feel like moving over mine. What his tongue would feel like against—”

  Chris jolted to his feet. His heart raced. His cock throbbed, well on its way to becoming a goddamn rod in his jeans. “I’m going to have a shower,” he muttered, hurrying past Bethany with his head down.

  “Good idea,” Bethany called behind him. He balled his fists at the laughter in her voice. “I’ve arranged for Jeff to be waiting for us with the Audi at the Harbour Masters Steps wharf at Circular Quay in an hour. We can’t afford to be late or he’ll wander off.”

  Chris stormed toward his bedroom, glaring at his feet as he mounted the stairs. “Wander off, wander off,” he grumbled. “Wish I could wander off.”

  A cold shower didn’t help his mood. Soaping up was torture. Every time his hands moved over his groin, tight pleasure speared into him. Every time that tight pleasure speared into him, he instantly thought of Liev. Every time he thought of Liev, his cock and balls grew tighter. It didn’t matter how cold the water was, he couldn’t stop the erection he’d been fighting all morning from finally standing to painful goddamn attention.

  He refused to do anything with it.

  He wasn’t ready for that. Instead, he ignored it, and all the images his deranged mind presented to him involving Liev’s mouth and tongue. Instead, he let the icy water stream over him, eyes closed and tried to recall the pleasure of his last sexual encounter with a woman, a secret moment with one of Hollywood’s leading serious actresses after one of those fundraisers just about every celebrity in the town patronized.

  He failed in his effort. Dismally. By the time he’d killed the water—fifteen minutes later—he was more frustrated and confused than ever.

  Stomping into the bedroom, he saw Bethany had laid clothes out for him on the king-size bed while he’d been showering. Black Calvin Klein jeans, a black Ralph Lauren polo shirt, biker boots and red and black argyle socks.

  No boxers or briefs to be seen.

  He bit back a growl. His personal assistant was proving to be far more impish than he’d anticipated. If he allowed himself to ponder her behavior, he’d swear she had an agenda.

  If that were the case, his sister and brother-in-law would have a meltdown. They’d been quite specific about her role as his P.A. and having an agenda beyond “seeing to Chris’s professional needs” wasn’t part of that job description. Hell, his sister had gone so far as to suggest to Bethany that she shouldn’t fix Chris’s meals while in Australia, hinting Chris should cook for himself. What would Rowie say of the super detached, aloof young woman now?

  Nothing. Because it was all in his stupid, messed-up head. Bethany was just doing her job. She’d been prickly and efficient from the get-go. Just because every damn thing in the world was making Chris think of Liev Reynolds didn’t mean Bethany was a sex-crazed maniac as well.

  He snorted, snatching his jeans from the bed and shoving his legs into them. Sex-crazed maniac. Was that what he was now?

  No answer came. Chris was glad for it. He didn’t think he was ready to deal with what it would be.

  But if Liev strode into this room and pinned you to the wall, you wouldn’t stop him doing whatever he wanted to do to you, would you?

  He ignored the thought, yanked his shirt over his head, raked his fingers through his damp hair and then pulled on his socks and boots. He strode back into the bathroom, cleaned his teeth, smacked Jean Paul Gautier cologne on his cheeks and jaw with brutal slaps, scraped at his hair once more with ungentle fingers and then stormed out of th
e room.

  He really needed to do something about his mood. At this rate, he’d be the thorny actor during the interview, not the actor playing the bad guy. All the reporters at the press conference expected his co-star to be reticent and gruff. He was famous for it. Chris Huntley, however, was the funny man who cracked them all up. Unless he did something about his state of mind, he’d snap the head off the first person who asked him what it was like to kiss his leading lady, a question he was asked at every damn interview so far.

  Hurrying down the stairs, he grunted. “Kiss FHM Magazine’s Sexiest Woman Alive?” he muttered. “Fuck, what about what it was like to kiss a—”

  He smacked into a solid, unmovable wall.

  A warm one.

  Strong hands grabbed his biceps, halting his backward stumble. He jerked up his head, his stare locking on Liev’s. The man stood on the rung below Chris, his impressive height drawing their eyes level.

  Chris’s heart smashed its way into his throat. Oh fuck.

  “Need to watch where you’re going, boss.” A fine sheen of perspiration from his workout covered the Australian’s body. The muscles of his bare arms and shoulders were so pronounced and powerful it was all Chris could do not to smooth his palms over them.

  Chris didn’t say a word. Just stared at the man, his heart beating so hard in his throat he couldn’t breathe.

  Liev’s fingers loosened on his arms. Loosened, but didn’t slip away.

  Chris dropped his stare to Liev’s mouth. Bethany was right. His lips were exquisite. And Chris knew exactly what they felt like moving over his—like fucking sinful heaven. He wanted to experience that heaven again. All he would need to do was lean forward, a fraction, and he could do that very thing.

  Just lean forward…

  Liev released Chris’s arms and stepped backward onto the next rung down, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” he said, nothing in his voice telling Chris he was as charged and aroused as Chris. Nothing. “Sorry. I lost track of time in the gym.”