Gambling on the Bodyguard

by Sarah Ballance

  Missing you already, Colorado.

  The simple note, followed by a phone number, made her feel ridiculous inside. She absently reached for her purse to tip the guy, but he held up a hand. “It’s already taken care of.”

  “Um, thank you?”

  Room service guy let himself out, and she locked the door behind him.

  “El-lie.” Taylor’s voice ratcheted through the phone Ellie had nearly forgotten she held.

  “He sent me breakfast,” she said, dazed. “Bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes and waffles, syrup, fresh fruit—”

  “How many people does he think he’s feeding?”

  “Hash browns, biscuits, croissants, jelly, coffee, tea, and juice.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing he didn’t forget the juice,” Taylor said dryly. “Are you going to tell me about this guy or not? Other than those amazing eyes. Is his body as good as the eyes?”

  “The body is definitely as good as the eyes.” Ellie picked up a piece of bacon and inhaled, wondering if vacation calories really didn’t count. “Like I said, he works security for the cover model. He caught me sneaking into the event last night and told me he couldn’t let me in without a ticket, but said if I’d go out with him he’d introduce me to the cover model.”

  “I gotta tell you, El, he’s so hot that’s almost not creepy.”

  “He’s absolutely not creepy. And I said if he let me see the cover model first then I’d go out with him. And not until.”

  Taylor’s tsk whispered through the connection. “Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought you were.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “Said with love, of course.”

  “Of course. And he clearly wants you, so get busy. That’s totally permissible there. You know what they say about Vegas.”

  “Good for Vegas.” Ellie sighed and gave in to the urge to eat the bacon. Divine. “I like him. I really do, and I’m not someone who can sleep with a guy and forget about him the next day.”

  “Then don’t forget him. Have sex and have amazing memories. Or have lousy ones, but looking at him, I don’t think he’s capable of a bad thrust. Point is, no one in your real life will ever know the difference, and you really need to live a little.”

  He definitely wasn’t capable of a bad thrust. The man was too gorgeous for that. “I can’t just…proposition him.”

  “I’m pretty sure he just propositioned you by cleaning out the breakfast buffet in your honor. All you need to do is thank him. Profusely and in the nude.”

  “Taylor!”

  “Are you attracted to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And reasonably sure he’s not a serial killer? Or a first-time offender in the making?”

  Ellie laughed, mainly to hide her nerves. She was so getting talked into this. Perfect little her, who hadn’t had any sex at all until she was actual years into what she thought was a committed relationship, was actually considering a one night stand. More than considering, in fact. She was achy and hot over a man. And eating bacon.

  The world had upended.

  “Reasonably sure,” she croaked.

  “Then go for it. Have some fabulous sex, then walk away. He could be the biggest jerk in the world—or first in line after your cheating ex, that is—and you’ll never know it.” Taylor’s voice softened. “You’ve been through a lot. Have something good for once. What have you got to lose?”

  “My self-respect?”

  Her friend snorted. “I think you gave that up when you tried to sneak in the back door of a black tie event.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot.”

  Taylor’s pshaw tore through the phone. “Get laid, Ellie. And don’t come back here until you do.”

  When Taylor ended the call, the screen switched back to Jax and his bedroom eyes. Ellie had to admit she liked the idea of no-strings sex. She’d had it up to there with strings and expectations and emotional attachments.

  Maybe Taylor was right.

  Ellie swiped the screen. Her thumb hovered over contacts. Adding him seemed a little too permanent, so she opted for her texting app instead. She quickly tapped in the number left on the note, verified she’d gotten it right, and then composed a four-digit message.

  Her room number.

  Then she hit send.

  …

  Jax spent the remainder of the night sitting in front of Focker’s door, mostly counting dots on the carpet. That and checking his phone, despite knowing Ellie wouldn’t get his message until morning. By then, Jax would probably be unconscious. Focker had an event at eight, which meant Jax was taking a nap. Period. It also meant if Ellie messaged him, he wouldn’t see it until later. The urge to take a cold shower—or ten of them—and wait her out was strong, but if he was fortunate enough to see her later, he wanted to be alert enough to remember it.

  As soon as Focker cut him loose, Jax headed to his room. He had a house in the desert, just a few miles off the strip, but staying close to Focker was part of the job. Jax’s room was on the same floor, just down the hall. He wondered how close Ellie was. If she thought about him. If she liked him, or if all that talk had been part of the moment…or the game.

  Jesus, he was delirious. Either that or back in junior high.

  He checked his messages, just in case. Managed to strip down to nothing and toss the duvet off the bed before collapsing.

  And he totally forgot to set the alarm on his phone.

  He figured that out when he cracked open his eyes to find rays of midafternoon sun piercing the windows. At least he remembered to plug the stupid thing in. After years of being on call for various clients, that particular habit died hard.

  He grabbed the device from the bedside table. One message. A phone number he didn’t recognize. Followed by an equally unfamiliar four-digit number.

  It’s her room number, you idiot. Had to be. He grinned and tapped back a reply.

  See you there in thirty?

  Her reply was immediate. I’ll be here.

  Here, not there. Which meant what? That she’d skipped out on the convention to wait in her room for him? The thought made him stupid-happy. He updated her contact in his phone—Colorado—and hit the shower.

  Twenty-eight minutes later, he stood outside her room. Nervous. He knocked, and the door opened almost immediately.

  He took her in. She stole his breath. Her tan suede boots had some kind of fur trim in the same off-white shade as her sweater. Her pants clung to every curve, and despite that, she managed to look as pure as the driven snow. And this time that prevailing urge to corrupt the hell out of her won.

  “I forgot something last night,” he said as he stepped into her room. He didn’t give her a chance to ask what, just leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, as gently as he could despite the need that tore through him. He resisted the urge to put his hands on her. The brief foray of intimacy they’d shared the night before notwithstanding, he realized she might have second thoughts and didn’t want to make her feel trapped. Didn’t want to scare her in any way. Just…wanted.

  She rested her palms flat on his chest, and for a minute he worried she’d shove him through the open door. He might have deserved as much, but before he could backpedal into an apology, she’d clutched fistfuls of his shirt and hauled him in. She’d surprised him, but by the time her mouth landed on his, he was on board. The tentative exploration of her tongue set him on fire. He roared inside. Devoured her. Tasted heaven.

  He slanted his head. Drew her closer. Felt the crush of her breasts against his chest. Resisted the urge to touch them. To grab her ass. To haul her into bed.

  So much for good behavior.

  He liked her. He definitely wanted her, but he also wanted the chance to get to know her, and that wasn’t likely to happen if he threw her down on her bed right then. He didn’t want her merely willing to share her body. He wanted her feverish and wet and begging for it.

  He tried to break free of the kiss and failed. Little parting nibbles turned into more,
and she’d only halfway released his shirt. Only then to wind her fingers through his hair, to drag him in and make his dick harder than it had ever been.

  “You’re not as innocent as you look,” he managed to mutter.

  “Actually I am,” she said, her tone laced with something suspiciously close to regret. “Dreadfully so.”

  He remembered her words from the night before. “You still looking to misbehave?”

  She grinned. “When in Rome.”

  “Wrong casino, but I can get a room over there if you’d like.”

  She laughed, and against his better judgment he kissed her again. Breaking free nearly broke him.

  “I had other plans,” he managed. But her room smelled of a fresh shower and the light scent of her skin had him turned inside out. “You can’t be all that innocent to make me forget so quickly.”

  She rolled her eyes. Smiled so damn pretty he hurt inside. “You’d be surprised,” she said.

  “Actually, I already am,” he admitted. “But I’ll make you a deal.”

  A grin softened the lips he’d made swollen with his kisses. “What’s that?”

  “Spend the rest of the day with me,” he said. The need for her to say yes astounded him. Not just because he wanted her, but because he wanted to be with her. His sister’s face flashed before him. Trusting. Defiant. Warning.

  What was he doing?

  “Didn’t we already have that deal?” Ellie asked.

  His sister’s face faded, but not the guilt. “Yes. No. Dammit.”

  If she tried to hide her smile, she did a sorry job of it. Thank God she didn’t see him for what he was. What he’d been for too damn long to ever change.

  He’d failed his sister. He had no right to be happy while she lay in a box in the ground, but he shoved away those thoughts. He’d been given Ellie. A day, maybe two. He could borrow that much happiness, couldn’t he? He didn’t have to deserve it.

  He already had it.

  He snagged her hand. Pulled her in. Kissed her. Felt it to his toes, and should have known right then and there he was in over his head, but probably didn’t care. It had been too long since someone had walked into his life—all smiles and sunshine—and made him want to bask in anything but guilt.

  Only… He broke free, immediately feeling the loss. He took a few steps back before he lost it. “We absolutely do not have that deal.”

  She looked at him. Confused. Maybe a little hurt.

  Asshole. “What I mean by that is I don’t want you with me because you feel like you have to be.”

  His response appeared to only amplify her bewilderment. “Why would I think that?”

  “You may have mentioned blackmail as a factor.”

  Caution broke into a grin. “And then I mentioned Rome.”

  Her breasts drew his eyes. Why the fuck wasn’t she wearing a bra? That sweater of hers was tight knit, loose, but thin. He’d need a straitjacket if those nipples didn’t retract. “Rome is most certainly not going to happen because of blackmail.”

  Humor glinting in her eyes, she asked, “What if I just kind of tolerate you because I want to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Rome?”

  He leaned back against the wall and kicked one foot over the other. “Just kind of tolerate me, huh?”

  She blushed, but she didn’t look down. Not this time.

  He made her nervous. He liked that. Really liked it. Wished she’d do to him what she was doing to her bottom lip, but if she closed her eyes it would kill him. He needed her looking at him like that.

  “I might be willing,” she said, edging closer. Or maybe edging for the door. Her nipples were about to poke holes through her sweater. He thought about offering to warm them up for her, but that was for later.

  If this was to be the best damned day of his life, that was.

  “Good.” He reached out and stuck his finger under the hem of her sweater, tugging gently until she obliged his unspoken request. Until mere inches separated them. With him leaning on the wall, his feet stretched between hers, the difference in their heights evened out. He had an unobstructed view of her eyes. Light brown and flecked with color, they reminded him of the desert.

  But the desert had never been as beautiful as that.

  He cupped the back of her head. Curled his fingers through the long, loose waves that matched her eyes and drew her mouth to his.

  She didn’t resist. The relief that sweltered through him was short-lived, quickly flamed out by an all-consuming need to taste the rest of her. But he held back. Didn’t want to scare her, to see distrust in her eyes.

  He slanted his head. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he mourned that until she met him in the kiss. Soft and sweet, nothing had ever sounded better than the tiny sounds of contentment she whispered as he made her his, deepening the contact, savoring the gift. By the time they took a breath she was, for all practical purposes, in his lap, her legs straddling his, his hand still caught up in her sweater. He unwound from the loose hold and reached beneath the fabric. Traced his fingertips against her stomach—not too high, not too low—and enjoyed the quick breath she drew. He kept her gaze. Loved that she didn’t seem anxious to look away.

  He slipped his hand to her back, his arm still under her shirt, both of them under the same spell. She took the cue and fell into him, soft as fresh-fallen snow. Warm as fuck. She was one pair of jeans and one pair of whatever she was wearing away from riding him, and his balls would probably never forgive him for not mounting up. But for the first time in his life, something more tugged at him. He wanted to know her. Wanted to bask in all that sunshine, to enjoy the innocence before he took that, along with her body.

  A lock of hair had fallen in her face. No doubt his fault after dragging his fingers through the strands, so he pushed it back. Almost kissed her again. “I tell you what, Colorado. Let’s spend the day together because we want to. I’ll try not to want you so hard that I forget to see the desert through your eyes, every damned moment of it, and if you’re not sick of me when it’s over, I’ll take you back to my room or you can take me back to yours.”

  One of her eyebrows lifted. That strand of hair bounded loose and caressed her cheek, making him want to do it all over again. “And then what?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Then you’ll find out firsthand what happens in Vegas.”

  Chapter Six

  Ellie almost shook with nerves. She wasn’t sure if she’d been rejected or propositioned, but it didn’t matter. The day wasn’t over, and in fact, Jax had just asked her to spend it with him.

  In. The. Desert.

  “If you’d rather stay on the strip, I understand. I know you came here for…the convention.” His voice, so husky even with such ordinary words leaving his lips, mired her further under his spell.

  She shook her head. The haze was still there. Better yet, he was there, hot as sin, sweet as honey. Someone with his rough edges shouldn’t be so playful, so ready to smile. “The city will be there tonight,” she said. “It’s not quite as interesting without the neon.” A conclusion that had found her as she stood in her hotel room, staring at the streets below. Waiting for him to reply to her text.

  And what convention? She could not care less. Not as long as Wolverine remained an option.

  “But you don’t know me,” he said, “and going off grid isn’t in the safety handbook.”

  She looked up, surprised.

  He laughed. “I figured if you weren’t into walking the strip alone, an excursion to the desert might wave a red flag or two. I probably shouldn’t have asked, but what you said about the mountains…that’s how I feel out there. I want to share it with you.”

  She averted her eyes for the briefest moment before zeroing in on him. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yes, but I’m telling a friend where I’m going. And with whom.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He pulled his security ID from his pocket and handed it to her. “Take a picture and se
nd it to your friend.”

  Ellie accepted the tag and grinned. Or maybe combusted. Even staring straight-faced at the camera, he was smoking hot. The eyes…they were incredible. Taylor would lose her mind.

  Ellie probably already had.

  “You know,” he said, “if you looked at me like that—actual me, not just a picture of me—I’d be a goner.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said. “But don’t think I haven’t been.”

  His brow lifted. A grin touched his lips.

  Her stomach dipped, roller coaster style. She shook it off, or at least pretended she could, and snapped a picture of the ID. As she handed him back the card, she asked, “Where are we headed?”

  “Valley of Fire,” he said. “It’s just up I-15 north, less than an hour out of the city. Exit seventy-five.”

  She tapped out her message and hit send. “If I end up on Dateline, I’m going to haunt you.”

  “Got a feeling you’re going to haunt me anyway, Colorado.”

  “That’s not comforting,” she said. But it was. God, it was.

  They left her room. She pulled shut the door, then he took her hand. Why did that simple gesture have to feel so good? Why did a guy she was destined to know for three days, tops, have to be so thoughtful?

  And she…hadn’t been at all thoughtful.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I totally forgot to thank you for breakfast.”

  “I think you already did,” he said as they stepped onto the elevator. “Besides, it was more of an apology on my part.”

  “I didn’t eat it all,” she said.

  He pressed the button for the lobby. “I don’t know where you’d have put it. I just wasn’t sure what you liked.”

  “Bacon.” She sighed. Or rather swooned. “I never eat bacon.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked. “Yet you ate the bacon?”

  “You ever have bacon with syrup?” she asked.

  “If you’d be willing to feed it to me,” he said, “and then lay there very still while I lick the syrup off your fingers, I might be willing to give it a try.”

  And just like that, he’d turned bacon into a sexual experience—one that may or may not ever leave the recesses of her mind, but that she’d relive with every strip of bacon she ever consumed.