by Hazel Parker
Her head shot up, and her eyes met mine as I struggled to sit up. I was pinned in place by her arresting gaze, those honey brown eyes turning darker and darker by the second.
“I’m sorry, Gavin,” she murmured.
And then she launched herself at me and began to crash her mouth against mine.
My mind went blank. That was the first thing that registered, and then nothing registered at all as everything became senses. She kissed like she meant every single stroke, and my heartbeat tripped as she eagerly pressed her body against mine and closed whatever distance was between us. Yes, she was wearing underwear—something lacy that scratched my skin lightly.
No, it wasn’t helping at all.
I could feel the hunger in her kiss, and I was responding.
It made all the difference in the world, particularly when I caught her gasp of surprise before she all but melted against me. I deepened the kiss and reveled in how her mouth opened for me. She pushed me again, then resumed straddling me, her hips fitting snugly against my waist.
My tongue slid in and tasted her, and whatever intoxication I felt earlier grew twofold and took complete control. In this angle, I could see her bra now—lace indeed, tan and tiny and making her cleavage pop out. Beneath it, I could see the makings of her pink nipples, which were pebbled in arousal. It set my body on fire, and my hand moved up to thumb one until she moaned against my mouth and had me almost exploding then and there.
Then she ground her hips against mine, and the ridge in my jeans slid in between her panties, where her opening lay. Her moan turned into a cry of lust, and I responded automatically and drove my hips up in an attempt to alleviate my own desperate ache.
Her body shook against me, and she leaned forward and bit my bottom lip. Then, to my amazement, she stilled, and I felt something wet against my pants as her body slumped against mine.
Realization set in. I stayed still even as she kept kissing, even while my head moved to the side to break the connection between us. Her hand slipped inside my pants, and fingers wrapped around my cock and had my eyes crossing. Damn. So good. I breathed harshly as the most intense pleasure hit me, but I gritted my teeth against it and firmly took her hand off.
Not like this. I wasn’t a monster.
She whined. Eventually, she stopped moving altogether and sighed one last time.
Then she was fast asleep.
Because I didn’t want to disturb her, it took a while for me to move, and I ended up just lying there with her lying on top of me. I shifted her to the side until she was cradled in my left arm, and I tried my best to control my burning body and the need that was slowly taking over. When it was clear that she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, I checked everything again—her pulse, her breathing, avoiding the sight of her body laid out on the bed and looking delectable as hell. I covered her in blankets again, the process painstakingly slow so as to make sure I didn’t ever touch her skin again.
Then I got out of there and closed the bedroom door behind me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HONEY
It was amazing how my mind could still retain everything that happened last night—that was, everything until I collapsed in my apartment right in front Gavin.
My thoughts latched on to that information the moment I woke up, and feelings flitted in and out of me in a rush that had me bracing myself on the bed. I made so many stupid decisions last night, stacking on top of each other with the cincher right at the very end: when I pretty much yelled at the one guy who was actually very worried about me.
And then I passed out and probably made an even bigger mess.
I sat up and groaned. Belatedly, I realized that I didn’t have a hangover at all, which was a miracle until I realized all over again that I wasn’t drunk. I was drugged, with the sole purpose of being taken advantage of at my weakest moment.
The bastard.
Ben was probably pissed that I got away. Well, I wasn’t going to take this lying down.
Wanting to feel a certain purpose, I tossed the blankets off my body and realized with a start that I only had my underwear on. Indignation settled down to be replaced by my cheeks burning hot, and I hurried to the bathroom and frantically turned the hot water on. I wished I knew what else I’d done last night, and what antics Gavin had to endure before I fell asleep.
Ten minutes later, I was dressed in shorts and a tank top, ready to face him and say whatever apology or thanks was needed. I opened the bedroom door.
I stilled when I was immediately assaulted by the scent of breakfast.
My mouth watered almost instantly. My eyes widened as they zoned in on the kitchen, where I found broad shoulders hunched over the frying pan and what had to be the loudest noise of metal against metal. I didn’t know how I could have missed that sound earlier.
Something clanged, and the air was suddenly filled with unfiltered swear words that had my mouth dropping open. It looked like Gavin had been holding back around me, and my curiosity got the best of me and had me wandering over to where he was.
“What’s going on?”
Hunched shoulders straightened, and Gavin’s head whipped in my direction. A certain calm suddenly surrounded him, and the way his face went straight right off had me raising a brow.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” I replied. “What are you doing?”
“Breakfast. Sit down. It will be done in five minutes.”
It was done in ten minutes, and I eyed the plate that he slid over to me on the counter, still unable to believe it. The pancakes looked like they’d undergone murder, with the sides charred and the middle covered in standard whipped cream. Weirdly enough, they still smelled good. I forced a smile on my face, ready to take a bite.
Then the ding of the oven timer caught my attention.
My eyes widened as he put on some mitts, took out a tray and placed it right beside my plate of pancakes. Cookies that looked absolutely gooey had my mouth watering again, and I couldn’t believe that I failed to smell it earlier, too. The cookies were chocolate chip and looked perfect, and I found my gaze alternating between the massacred pancakes and the beautiful cookies.
“My previous client was a kid who liked cookie projects,” he explained. “Those are the only things I can cook.”
“Bake,” I corrected. Something inside me warmed at the thought that he actually took the time to do something like this for me, warring with the need to laugh at the contrast it made to the pancakes. He shot me a look, so I stifled the amusement and took a hasty bite of the first dish.
It wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be. I took a few more bites, waiting for the cookie to cool a bit. I took one and tasted it.
And my whole world tilted.
“Holy…these are…”
A smirk slid from his lips, distracting me for a bit. “Right? It’s the only cooking skill I can brag about.”
“Your pancakes aren’t so bad,” I shot back. “Now sit down and eat breakfast with me.”
He did as asked, sitting across from me and digging into his own stack. We ate in pleasant silence, alternating between the pancakes and the cookies. To my surprise, I finished everything, even the orange juice he poured after. I watched him eat a second stack of pancakes, amazed at how he ate like a horse and didn’t gain weight at all. But then again, he did a lot of early morning jogging, and he probably worked out on his spare time.
All the calories went to his muscles.
Automatically, my gaze landed on the muscles on his arms, which were bulging underneath his short-sleeved white shirt. I gulped at the sight as my heartbeat tripped, and I drank a second glass of juice in haste—which had me almost choking.
Gavin stood up and went over to me, fast as lightning. His palm pounded firmly on my back, then rubbed. Heat spread, extending to my cheeks and making me look down.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.”
; “Good.” His hand slid off, taking the warmth with it. There was a pause before he spoke again. “Are you okay?”
I knew what his question implied, and the embarrassment of my memories had me ducking my head down again. I watched him sit beside me, and my eyes focused on his white shirt near his stomach.
“Yeah. Just feeling stupid. I shouldn’t have gone out with some people I barely knew. It was a lesson.”
“They shouldn’t have taken advantage,” he said quietly, and the defense towards me had me looking up in surprise. His gaze was intense on me, purposeful, and even while my breath caught in my throat, I already knew what the next question was going to be. “Do you remember what happened in the club?”
I bit my lip. Then I nodded my head and slowly began to tell him about going out with Heather, then meeting Ben. He listened without interrupting, and I watched his jaw distinctly clench, and his gaze harden when I got to the part of Ben trying to grope me. But he still didn’t say anything until I got to the part where I struggled to get home and finally saw him in my apartment.
“Which brings me to my next point,” I said, taking a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have broken into my place but thank you for taking care of me. And I’m sorry for being such a pain.”
“Sorry about that. Getting drugged wasn’t your fault.”
I blinked. “But if I didn’t…”
“You were just out having fun and letting out your frustration—frustration, I presume, that I brought on. That doesn’t mean some guy should take advantage. Those types of men are scum.”
There was anger in his tone, which had me shooting him a puzzled look. “Are you mad at me?”
“Are you really asking me that question?” he asked incredulously.
I smiled reluctantly. “I guess you aren’t. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry.”
The words made me remember my own words to him yesterday, which I think was deliberate. I grinned. He smiled in response, and it was like a jab in the chest as I realized he hadn’t smiled like this to me before. Gavin was often too serious for his own good, and God…his smile was gorgeous.
Nerve-wrecking.
I swallowed another gulp of juice and tried to ignore the fluttering in my belly.
“This Ben…do you have a last name?”
I gave him a scathing look. “Don’t come at him. You’re just going to end up bruising his pretty actor face.”
Gavin looked entirely too innocent. “I wouldn’t do that.”
I scoffed, then snickered. “Right. Seriously. I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“Call the club owner friend of mine, for one. She doesn’t tolerate that shit and would spread the news to the other owners to look out for him and get him blacklisted.”
A satisfied look crossed his face, and he nodded approvingly. “Good. And you cursed, too.”
I snickered again. “You’re a very bad influence.”
That got him chuckling and got me staring at him as I watched the laughter light up his face. Then he sobered up after. “Remember how we had some rules at the beach house?”
“Yeah?”
“How about we set some up now?”
“I think…that’s a pretty good idea.” I raised a finger. “Let me start.”
“Go on.”
“Give me some space. There are some places where paparazzi can’t enter, and I want a breather sometimes.”
“Done. My turn.”
“Go.”
“Don’t run away like that again. At least tell me where you are all the time, so I can keep tabs.”
“Done. Don’t break into my apartment again. I’ll give you a spare key.”
“Done. And I’ll give you one at my place for emergencies.”
I didn’t know what constituted an emergency that I would need to go to his place, but I nodded my head, anyway. We threw more rules back and forth, rejecting some while accepting the rest. Finally, he held out his hand. I didn’t hesitate, placing my palm against his and feeling his rough pads. The thought that he would pull me towards him flashed in mind, and I didn’t know where it came from.
We shook on it.
“Did I do something embarrassing after passing out?” I blurted out.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, and his gaze landed a fleeting second on my lips. They parted involuntarily as I took in a sharp, quiet breath.
For that space of a second, I really, really thought he was going to kiss me.
Then he looked up and shook his head.
“You just babbled a lot. Told me all your feelings about me.”
My eyes widened. “What did I say, exactly?”
He grinned. “That I was a hot asshole, basically. And you complained that it was too hot and were frantic to take your clothes off.”
I groaned.
“Even your underwear,” he supplied.
I groaned harder and buried my face in my hands, wishing I could erase that moment away. But Gavin was chuckling, and I breathed just a bit easier that at least he didn’t take it seriously.
When he stood up to pile the plates up, I shot up from my seat and took the dishes from him, shooting him a look. “I’ll do that. You cooked for me.”
He raised a brow. “And how did you like my pancakes?”
I stifled a giggle, pretended to look sober. “They were the most delicious pancakes in the world.”
“Liar.”
I laughed at his accusation. Because we were standing close, I found myself unable to stop scrutinizing his face, studying the harsh lines and angles of his jaw, the rather crooked nose that spoke of being broken in at one time, and the bags under his eyes. Realization hit me.
“You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”
He shrugged and tried brushing it off. “I’ll be fine.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was asleep,” he admitted. “But you woke me up with your moaning about the hotness. I didn’t know what else the drugs could do, and I decided not to risk it.”
He really was a considerate man, and I was softening up. Not liking my own reaction, I pushed him towards the door, scolding him for staying up.
“Get some sleep. I’ll be home the whole day. I swear I’ll wake you up if something comes up.”
He nodded in agreement, and I watched him stifle a yawn. Then I watched him some more as he went back to his place, his back all broad and his butt the firmest I’d seen in a while.
Before I could continue ogling, I shut my own door and leaned against it, closing my eyes. Then I repeated in my head a single line that I needed to remember while we were in this little deal: Gavin was my bodyguard and nothing more.
Absolutely nothing more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GAVIN
Honey’s press conference following her major race win was as brutal as they came, with the reporters throwing her sideways questions that weren’t really related to the race at all and were more like a sexual jab in her direction—but they may as well have asked her about the weather for all the reaction she gave them.
She remained smiling throughout the whole conference, her face sobering up when she needed to discuss something more serious. She basically ignored all the questions about her scandal and determinedly answered the ones about her racing win, her voice cheerful and even just a little bit teasing. It was a charm that divided the crowd, as some were obviously enraptured by it, while others looked downright displeased for not getting the kind of scoop they wanted.
She took it all in stride and handled it very well: something I hadn’t expected. I thought she would be a blubbering mess, then realized that was a stupid thought, considering her fighting spirit. She wasn’t aggressive, but she didn’t fall apart, either, proving to them that they could throw whatever they wanted and she wouldn’t care.
That didn’t stop the anger from simmering, though, especially as some of the reporters didn’t stop at the conference and reque
sted for a private audience with her. Honey politely declined them all, making excuses that she was busy and getting out of the scene as quickly as possible. I almost voiced out my disapproval that she was using the back door instead of the front, but I decided not to speak and took her elbow instead, indicating my head in a gesture to make sure she understood.
Hold your head high. Front door.
Shock flitted in her gaze. Then she nodded her head before doing a quick turnaround, passing through the reporters calmly. I didn’t let any of them get to her, forming a wall and shooting a deadly glare at anyone who came too close. Then that was over and done, and Honey breathed a little easier.
That wasn’t the only event, though. Her silence had the effect of keeping everyone interested and more eager to badger her, though Sara thought saying something would still have the same effect, anyway. Assured that it would just die down, Honey went on with her daily life, and I followed her whenever I could and left her alone whenever she requested me to. The leaving-alone part mostly had to do with personal time and her just staying at home, and the rest of her activities ended up with me beside her. It was surprising to learn that she was just about the biggest homebody in the world, with her activities mostly involving going to bookstores and bulk buying interesting books, trying to find bargain clothes, and doing grocery shopping for her favorite activity: cooking.
There was one other activity that I wasn’t privy to until I was almost three weeks in on guarding her. One day she invited me to visit this café one time right before she left in a rush, and curiosity had me looking up the address, browsing the menu for a bit and heading there after lunch to check out what that was all about.
My first jolt of surprise happened when I was nearing the café and stopped just half a block away, squinting. I found Honey near the café window, wearing what looked like a white waitress uniform that displayed her curves in all its glory. She was serving a cup of coffee to a customer, a smile on her face. The customer said something, and she threw her head back in a joyful laugh that had my stomach clenching.
Then, because I always did this, anyway, I took a sweep of the surroundings—and that was when I noticed the man standing near a post lamp, with a camera strap hanging around his neck.