by Shayla Black
Shealyn looked shaken. “Two people want to hurt me? I can’t think of anyone—much less two someones—who would do this to me. Or why.” She scanned his face, her eyes green and earnest under the street lamp. “I don’t care about the money, but if he’d hurt you, I couldn’t have lived with myself.”
“But you would have been alive, and I would have done my job. That’s the reason you pay me.”
She frowned as if he’d spoken words she didn’t understand at all. “Nothing I pay you could compensate you for the loss of your life and . . . the second I reached my car all I could think was that I felt lost without you. I’m sure that sounds ridiculous.”
It didn’t because he’d been thinking the same thing when he’d watched, heart in his throat, as a madman bore down on her with nearly two tons of turbo-charged metal and one goal in mind—her death.
Logically, Cutter knew that tonight had heightened his senses. Adrenaline still flooded his bloodstream, making his thoughts wild, his cock hard, and his emotions raw. But he’d been in enough of these situations to know that what he felt now was more. He didn’t have the will to walk away from her now.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t. You might hate me for it. If you don’t want this, say so. Push me away.”
Her fingers on his shoulders tightened. She hesitated, blinked up at him. Then her gaze fell to his mouth. Her eyes slid shut.
Cutter swallowed. That was all the invitation he needed.
He hauled her flush against him, wanting her too badly to ease her into the kiss. So he seized her lips. God, they felt like the rest of her—soft, sweet, almost magical. Desire slammed him without mercy.
He slanted his mouth even more forcefully over hers and dove past her lips to taste the woman inside. The moment she hit his tongue, he groaned. Shealyn must be from another realm. No woman had ever intoxicated him like this. No woman had ever been so beautiful to him that even the mere sight of her made him ache. No woman had ever fit against him so perfectly that he feared he’d lose his mind. No woman had ever seemed so right that he’d swear after one kiss his heart was in serious danger.
Shealyn whimpered into his mouth and curled her arms around his neck. She opened to him, so welcoming it made his head whirl. He braced her against the side of her Audi, and she moved restlessly against him, impatient, seemingly begging for more. He was determined to give her whatever she wanted. Though touching her went against every professional and gentlemanly instinct he possessed, when she arched into him from shoulders to hips, he couldn’t seem to care at all.
A car revving then screeching on the brakes nearby made him wrench away from her. Heart thudding like a machine gun, he looked up. Thankfully, he didn’t see a single car. As he tried to clear his head and think logically, he mentally replayed the sound. It had come from the main road around the bend, not mere feet away with lethal intent.
“We need to leave here now in case these guys come back to finish you off.”
“Back home?” Shealyn asked.
He couldn’t not notice her swollen lips.
“Yes. Once we’re there, you’re going to answer my questions.”
She didn’t balk, simply nodded. He was relieved . . . even as he reeled. He’d kissed Shealyn West. And he worried very much that he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to again.
The drive to her house was the longest twenty minutes of Cutter’s life. As they closed in on her rustic ranch in the hills, they passed the guard gate. He inched his SUV to the side and let her pass, then followed her through, asking Barney to keep the gate locked down tight tonight. The sentry gave him a thumbs-up.
Back at her house, she parked in her garage and closed the electronic door behind her car. Cutter shot out of his rental and tore the house key from his pocket, barging into her foyer. After locking the door behind him, he prowled through the darkened interior, illuminated by L.A.’s sparkling lights through the floor-to-ceiling glass along the back wall.
He heard a door shut on the far side of the house, then listened as Shealyn’s footsteps approached down a tiled hall. She was like a beacon. He headed directly toward her.
At the end of the opening, she paused. “Cutter?”
She sounded unsure. Was she afraid of the dark? Of what had happened with her blackmailer earlier? Or what might happen between the two of them next?
He moved closer slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away. “I’m here.”
Shealyn allayed his worries when, instead of retreating or flipping the light switch beside her, she reached for him, fingers curling around his arm like she was grabbing a lifeline.
Cutter edged into her personal space. She didn’t put distance between them, just exhaled in relief and pressed herself against him.
Oh, god. She wanted something from him that didn’t feel merely like comfort.
He was going to have to deal with the two dirtbags who were after Shealyn and convince her to let him hunt them down to see justice served. To do that, he would have to focus on something besides her sweet, addicting mouth.
But unless someone charged in, gun drawn, threats spewing, that wasn’t happening now.
The thought that she was here, safe, and wanting his touch tore the leash from his restraint.
Cutter took her shoulders in hand and nudged her back against the wall. She went with a gasp. In one motion, he flattened himself against her, palms braced above her head, hips rocking against the soft pad of her pussy. He couldn’t hold in the groan that tore from his chest.
“I shouldn’t do this but . . . goddamn it. If you don’t want this, stop me. A word will do it.” Cutter tried to wait for her assent, but the sensual curve of her throat beckoned him. He bent, inhaled her, grew dizzy from her scent. It reminded him of the gardenias Mama used to grow in the spring. Blended with that scent was the thick aroma of her arousal, pungent and dizzying. “Say it now, sweetheart.”
Shealyn ignored him, rocking against him, her head falling to the side as she offered him her neck—and any other part of her he wanted. “Why would I tell you to go when I want you closer?”
She wasn’t going to stop him. And she wouldn’t save him from himself. Drowning in her would be a singular pleasure that would be worth whatever the price—even his heart.
Cutter fastened his mouth to hers again and tugged on the bottom of her turtleneck, only breaking the kiss when the sweater came between them. The moment he yanked it over her head and tossed it to the floor, he captured her lips once more, growling at the heady feel of the warm, smooth skin of her back, bare under his palms.
Shealyn moved restlessly against him, fisting his T-shirt in her hands and giving it a tug. She raised the thin cotton over his abdomen and chest, but got stuck at his shoulders. Her moan pleaded with him. She wanted the shirt gone and she wanted it now.
Cutter took over, tearing his mouth from hers and shrugging off the holster. When it fell to the tile with a seemingly distant clang, he reached behind his neck and jerked the T-shirt from his body. Using one hand, he tossed it aside. The other slid down Shealyn’s spine to cup her pretty, pert ass.
Jesus, she was like all his hottest fantasies, but better. Because she was real and, right now, she desired him.
When his second hand joined the first on her luscious backside, he bent and lifted her, parting her legs and sliding between them with a growl. She wrapped her legs around him, clutched his shoulders, and swayed against him as if she wanted nothing more than to be as close as two people could.
The attraction between them was chemical, animal—unlike anything he’d ever felt. He needed to get on top of her, be inside of her, root as deep into her as he could. The wall had been convenient for a mere kiss, but it was a damn hindrance now. He couldn’t have Shealyn the way he craved her here.
“Hold on to me,” he demanded as he clasped her tighter and trekked
down the hall, across the expansive living room and the glitzy view, then strode into her bedroom.
The stars of L.A. beckoned beyond the French doors. He didn’t give them a second glance, not when he had Shealyn West in his arms.
She pressed kisses to his jaw, his lips, his forehead. She nipped at his earlobe, her soft pant a shiver down his spine. “Cutter . . . I-I need you.”
Yeah, he understood her perfectly, even though nothing between them made a damn lick of sense. But tonight had flipped some switch inside him. He could no longer pretend—to her or himself—that his feelings for her were strictly professional. No, he craved her alive and responding, clawing, wailing, begging, seemingly his . . . even if it wouldn’t last.
“I’m here.” He laid her across the bed and climbed over her, settling his hips between her legs. He wished they were naked. He wished he was inside of her, already one with her as he pressed his erection to her softness. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”
She paused and blinked up at him as if she was trying to gauge how much he really meant that. Why would she doubt him? Or her own appeal, given how quickly she’d dismantled his self-control?
“I don’t want you anywhere else.” She skated her palms over his shoulders, even as she parted her thighs to take him deeper.
Her touch sent an electric reaction zipping through his veins. He curled his fingers around one of her shoulders in return, lowering her bra strap. When she didn’t object, he tugged down the lacy cup and exposed her breast.
Holy hell. He had to have that taut pink flesh in his mouth now. He had to savor her, suck her like a sweet summer berry. He craved his lips against her skin.
Without another thought, he lowered his head and lapped her rigid peak with his tongue. She gasped, arched up, clasping him like she never wanted him to let go. He sucked harder.
He’d known she would be beautiful. He’d known she would feel like heaven. He had never expected her to respond so perfectly to him, with little catches of breath as she burrowed her fingers in his hair, urging him closer.
Under his body, Shealyn writhed, trying to shimmy out of her bra. She couldn’t reach the clasp—and he couldn’t bring himself to allow enough space between them for her to do the job—but she still managed to work the other strap down and peel the cup away.
Cutter seized the unclaimed space instantly. He broke the suction from the first peak and shifted to the other. Oh, hell yes. Soft and velvety, her breasts beckoned him the way the rest of her did—every part from her pouty lips to her sweetly sassy spirit. He loved that she wasn’t all bones, hadn’t subscribed to the Hollywood belief that a woman with hips should immediately begin starving to save her career.
He couldn’t wait to see Shealyn naked, wrap his arms around her, sink into her. Take her. Make her his for the few golden hours it lasted.
With a move Cage had taught him in high school, Cutter slid a hand beneath her and pinched the clasp of her bra. The undergarment propped free, and he stripped it from her body.
A voice in the back of his head reminded him that getting inside her shouldn’t be his top priority. But a primal fever burned him, urging him on. It wouldn’t cool and it wouldn’t bow to logic or civility. It didn’t give a shit right now if he was professional. It could care less what else was going on in their lives. It wanted to claim Shealyn, mark her as his woman.
“I can’t believe I’m touching you,” he whispered against her lips. “I can’t believe how good you feel.”
Beneath him, she stiffened suddenly and braced her palms against his shoulders, putting breathing room between them. “Cutter? Wait.”
Her voice sounded so uncertain, almost afraid. It stopped him cold. He cursed the fact that he could barely discern her expression in the shadowy room.
“What’s wrong? What do you need, sweetheart?”
“I . . .” She shook her head, giving his shoulders a little shove, then rolled away and covered her bare breasts with her arms. “I can’t do this. We shouldn’t. I know I asked you for . . .” She took a shuddering breath. “I’m mixed up. Tonight was overwhelming. I’m sorry. I never meant to make our interaction personal.”
Disappointment gashed him, but didn’t shock him. Of course the beautiful, glittering starlet wouldn’t actually want an average guy. She deserved someone special. Leaving Shealyn was the last thing he wanted to do, but she’d asked him to back off. No meant no.
What had triggered her to say it so suddenly? He didn’t know . . . except maybe the return of common sense.
As Cutter eased off her bed, he studied her in the muted moonlight. He couldn’t see much, but he could hear her breathing heavily and feel her inches away, shaking. He couldn’t handle the thought that she was upset or terrified.
Raking his hand over the short scruff of his hair, he retreated a handful of steps. Frustration strangled him, but he backed away. His inner cynic chastised him for getting his hopes—and his cock—up. What the fuck had he thought would happen between him and Shealyn West, ecstasy followed by true love and wedding bells?
“I didn’t, either. I’m the one at fault and I’m sorry for my unprofessional behavior. I’ll give you a few minutes to get yourself together, then I think we should regroup and discuss what happened at the money drop.”
She drew her knees to her naked chest and wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah. Sure. Just give me a minute.”
Cutter took that as his cue to leave.
Despite the fact she’d asked him to go, turning his back on her seemed wrong in every way. His gut screamed that if he let this moment go without fighting for her, his chance might never come again. It insisted that he needed to protect her, comfort her . . . pleasure her.
He tried not to snort at the voice in his head. It was stupid.
“You’re the boss,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be waiting.”
Cutter forced himself to go. The moment he cleared her doorway, he clenched his fists, leaned against the wall, and let out a curse. Well, that had been an epic fail. Next time he got near Shealyn, he needed to remember who he was, who she was, and that he had no business touching her. And he definitely needed to dial down the lust. Worse, he’d tried to take Shealyn to bed without first sweeping the house. Stupid, rookie, and irresponsible . . . He couldn’t let it happen again.
In the hall, he paused to pick up his gun, holster, and shirt. He made the mistake of glancing at Shealyn’s turtleneck strewn across the tile. Arousal flooded his bloodstream again when he remembered the moment he’d realized she was truly responding to his kiss, his touch. To him as a man.
Of course he wanted to touch her again. He didn’t know how he was going to be in the same room with her and not remember what she smelled and tasted like, how she kissed, how vulnerable and beautiful she’d looked under him. How much she’d felt like his.
Somehow, he would have to manage.
Holding in a snarl, he trekked to his assigned quarters, texting Logan Edgington. Of the three badasses he worked for, Logan was a night owl and the most likely to still be awake.
Clusterfuck here. Need answers. Can you find out if there are any city or county cameras associated with this address? And if Shealyn told Jolie the reason she wanted a bodyguard?
Cutter tapped in the address of the baseball field, then hit Send on the message to the younger Edgington brother. He didn’t expect a shit-ton of information, but anything Logan could dig up would be helpful. Cutter could use a lucky break. He needed to have some idea of who or what he was dealing with, especially if Shealyn again decided she didn’t want to be honest with him about the reason she was being blackmailed.
Back in his bedroom, he shoved on his T-shirt, kicked off his shoes, and wished like hell he could get his cock to forget how much she made him ache. Since his erection strained against his zipper, threatening permanent teeth marks, he knew that w
asn’t happening anytime soon.
A moment later, his phone dinged with Logan’s reply. Let me look into the cameras. I’ll call Thorpe tomorrow and ask him to quiz Callie. I’ll also prod Heath to lean on his wife. Maybe Shealyn told Jolie something useful that she shared with those closest.
Maybe. If he didn’t start getting some answers soon, Cutter wasn’t sure what he could do to protect Shealyn next. That was bad news. Clearly her blackmailers meant business and weren’t above attempted murder to get their way.
He sent back a quick thanks to Logan, then shrugged into his holster once more as he headed to the living room.
When he reached the expansive main space of the house, he found Shealyn in the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine. When it was half full, she slammed the bottle on the counter and tossed back half of the rich red liquid in one swallow.
Cutter frowned. “You okay?”
She turned to him. The good news was that she’d finally flipped on a light. It was a small glow over the stove that illuminated the kitchen just enough to see the room without glare. The bad news was he could clearly see her nipples, the hard little buds he’d had in his mouth minutes ago, poking through her cotton-knit pajama top. The matching shorts revealed most of her sleek legs and cupped her rounded ass. Lust lurched again, fighting his restraint.
He’d been better off with the lights out.
Shealyn swallowed. “After tonight, I owe you the truth. The video the blackmailer has isn’t merely of me changing clothes. It’s of me having sex with a man, obviously not Tower, in the dressing room of a clothing boutique.”