Chapter Eighteen
I skipped on the invite to eat on the main floor with the family and hotfooted it to my quarters one level below. What the fuck am I still doing here? It was the only thought that turned inside my head after I left Leland to deal with his own mess.
I should probably have made a stop in Ella’s room. Talked to her for a while, tried to smooth out the edges of our meet and greet before I started in the morning putting her through the drills of what it meant living in Graham’s world as my primary asset to protect. Even if I quit the job before Mexico, she’d benefit from a few weeks of discipline and be less of a handful for whoever Jared found to replace me.
A few weeks?
Fuck—where did that thought come from?
I didn’t want to fall into the trap of defining how long I would be here. What was I doing assembling a timeline in my head?
I made my own dinner in my private kitchen—fuck, it felt good to be on my own again even if I did sort of crave Patricia’s cuisine—then plopped down on the sofa in front of the flat screen to chow down and hopefully forget everything. First priority: Leland. Yep, I wanted to wipe the hard drive of my brain and body clean of him ASAP.
I tossed down my dinner and went to bed. Who the fuck was I kidding? I wanted to rub from my cock the minutes of having been near him only feeling his breath against my face and the heated arousal of his body as he dangled close, clutched in my fingers.
Raging boner.
Big time.
I’m pretty sure he’d gotten one, too.
Even after all the shit that went down upstairs my dick hadn’t stood down completely and if he came to my room tonight, I’d flipped him on the mattress and fuck him.
Hard.
It was after midnight and I was trying to sleep, but it was impossible. Being in Leland’s house was like being surrounded by him 24/7 and the ache wouldn’t let up. No less annoying was the girlie sort of annoyance and resentment that Lee hadn’t made an appearance yet to try to tackle head-on my refusal to put a sexual relationship on the table or at least try to tackle me into bed.
Tackle me into bed—
I punched my pillow and turned on my side. That fucking thought hadn’t helped anything. I should have probably slapped one off right then to take away the razor’s edge of Leland’s unceasing magnetic pull, but I didn’t.
My thoughts were interrupted—and conversely the heat in my body shot to sun’s surface level—when my bedroom door opened.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was. “Get the fuck out of my room, Leland.”
He laughed, flipping on a single light. “I thought a little one-on-one time before the morning was not a bad idea.”
Ha. Ha. Smug SOB. Fuck, RPG between my legs.
Betrayed by my own body.
A squeak that sounded like he’d sat in a chair.
“We really didn’t get much of a chance to talk, Graham. I would have come down sooner, except I was tied up dealing with Ella. I’m sure you have some questions you want answered before you start in the morning.”
“No, I don’t since I’m not starting in the morning. I’m just staying here—” I shut down that verbal fumble in the nick of time because the last thing I needed was to hand him a weakness of mine gift wrapped when he was too capable of finding them in me on his own. I regrouped and changed direction. “There’s nothing I need to ask and nothing I need to know, Lee. And there sure as hell isn’t anything I want to discuss with you.”
He made a short laugh. “Are you really going to make me speak to your back? Not that I mind. If you invite me to join you in bed I’d call that going in the right direction.”
Fucker.
I exhaled heavily, frustrated and wanting to punch him. Staying curled on my side facing the wall away from him had seemed a little butt-hurt female drama to me even before he said it. Though that didn’t give the arrogant prick the right to be critical or to voice it. And I sure as hell didn’t want his clever eyes to see either my anger—spiked by his nearness—or my elation that he’d at last come here to grovel between my legs. He could read me too easily and wield it like a machete against me.
I took a moment to regroup and fortify my defenses. Pathetic. Since when was I so weak in the balls?
I turned and settled facing him—yep, weak in the balls—covered by the sheets, leaning forward and hugging my bent legs with my arms strategically draped as a secondary bulwark to keep him from seeing the missile pointed at him.
I permitted myself a minute to get a read on him—tired and mussed like he’d just climbed from his own bed—and fuck, why did he have to look so sexy in those ridiculous pajama bottoms?
“Talk and then get out of here. I’m exhausted.”
He laid his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re not going to unbend an inch, are you? You have me over a barrel so you want to fight about us because you can.”
That comment was degrading. I reached for my smokes on the table, remembered he didn’t like the habit, and tossed them back down.
“Us? There’s no us, Lee.”
His chin slowly lowered until he held me in his potent amber stare. “Who’s playing games now? Your honesty and directness is half of your charm, baby. We both know when I left LA it didn’t end a thing. Not for either of us.”
I could feel my blood pressure spike, fueling my anger, which was good; it almost blocked out the ache in my lower region. That is, until his lips parted just enough to blast me with raw agony.
He stood. “I’m too tired for this. And by the sound of it so are you. Let’s call this a day and end friends.”
Glib and charming that round.
Nope, not working.
It wasn’t even worth responding to.
I punched my pillow and turned onto my side, conveying my intent to go back to sleep.
“Turn out the light. And don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”
I became a tense coil of body parts that waited for sound, as yet unwilling to let down my guard. A smug rejoinder. The chair squeaking. Footsteps toward the door. Anything to indicate I’d be in a Lee-free zone soon. But nothing, and it was torture lying there and waiting for him to clear my space.
Pathetic a second time, oh definitely. But not having his way just wasn’t Leland. Only a fool would lower their defenses or trust that this was over…
I felt movement toward the bed.
Motherfucker.
That’s it.
If he touched those blankets, the last thing he would see was my fist. I wasn’t about to indulge a wacked lord of the manner and serving boy cliché by letting him join me in bed my first night here. At least, that was my last thought before doing nothing to stop him.
Oh fuck.
I was weak. Or maybe just horny—nope, no maybe about that one—and it wasn’t really pitiful to let him apologize away the torment in my groin if I didn’t let it crush my resolve not to be with him.
How wrong I was in that assessment hit me in the face the second Leland’s warmth slipped behind me beneath the sheets.
Slowly, he ran a palm up my arm before he touched his lips to my shoulder. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I hope you letting me into bed without counter-maneuvers means you don’t want to either.”
The words—Christ, I’d expected more from him than the kind of trite shit you’d read in chick novels—but in truth, he probably could have said just about anything since the words weren’t what got me to let him stay curled up against my ass. Out of nowhere, in a way I’d never felt before, something akin to jarring relief ran my body once the separateness between us had been stopped by one of us.
Lifetime movie-esque? Yes.
A mistake? I was pretty damn sure in the long run it would be.
But it was the first thing that had felt right since I got here. Reality is a bitch when it’s shoved in your face—or up against the backside of your balls—but I couldn’t deny I felt returned to perfect internal order the second he touched me. And I hadn’t felt that way for days.
I had every intention of repelling this, but then the road to ruin is paved with good intentions, but that truism couldn’t even muster a fight in this circumstance. Lee made every nerve in my body howl when he pressed up against me and slipped his cock between my legs to brush the length of mine so both our weapons stared up at me as he pressed his junk flush against my butt.
Flexing his hips, he rubbed the head of his staff up mine, eased back, and then did it again. My eyes refused to look anywhere other than on the sight of both our cocks touching full length, mine being thrust against my abdomen by his.
His lower body made another expert move and pre-cum answered the glide from both of us. He bit my shoulder and a shock wave rippled down me like a depth charge.
At this point, it was worthless to say it, random and woefully unbelievable, but I wanted this point crystal clear before I pinned him to the bed and fucked him.
“You and me, Leland. We’re done. Over. This isn’t going to change a thing.”
He made a move of his body that cost me the heat of his cock against mine, and eased his head over my shoulder to look into my face. “Over? We haven’t even begun, baby.”
At that point, my cock was rock hard.
I pulled away and turned on the light so he could see my annoyance. “Don’t call me that. That’s the last time you call me baby. Understood? Are we clear?”
His eyes sparkled as he raked his hair. He smiled, self-deprecating and a hint apologetic. “I’m sorry. I was married. Jamie liked it. It’s habit.”
I jerked away from him. “Then lose that habit fast like I lost the cigarettes and don’t ever fucking talk to me about that flamer again.”
His eyes registered amusement—fuck, I hadn’t meant to bite off that last bit about his ex. There was no way to say something like that wasn’t telling—but for his own reasons I was positive I’d never discover, he let that one pass by kissing his way down my abdomen.
“I’m sorry. I’ll lose the habit.”
Good.
Now we were getting somewhere.
I stretched out on my back.
“And why don’t we also lose the habit of you coming here anytime your cock has an itch, Lee? New arrangement. If I want you, I’ll let you know.”
His face lifted from where he’d been licking my slit. “That one is going to be more difficult to do.”
He flatted his tongue against my erection, then peeked up at me with those amber eyes.
Oh shit.
As he surrounded me with his wet tunnel, expertly working his tongue with his lips, I melted back down beneath him onto my pillow in spite of the fact that when he’d climbed in my bed I’d wanted to kick his ass from my room.
Leland sucked my dick into the dawn, though phrasing it that way would be a disservice. His mouth danced on my cock as though he were leading us in the tango. Swirl, turn, down and up. Tonguing my ass. Teasing my balls. Inhaling me deep to push me close to the edge then relaxing his lips to take it away until I was crazy.
He could maintain his seal around me as long as I could deny him the satisfaction of my cum. Or was he denying me? He devoured me so long there were times I wasn’t certain.
He started running the length of me over and over again with his tongue, throating me roughly in a way that was glorious torture.
“Come on, baby. I want the taste of you. Don’t make me beg.”
Baby—that shit had to stop. If I’d been smart I would have pushed him off me then.
Then his mouth reclaimed my shaft and the last thing I wanted to do was make him go. I was ragged and desperately ready to come, the suction on my throbbing length nerve-blisteringly disorienting.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I growled as the eruption of my load sent me into a violent full-body shudder. Even after pissing me off, Leland got me to climax at the moment he wanted to just as he’d earlier gotten me to stay here with him.
He was irresistible when he wanted something, and don’t ever let anyone tell you that a blowjob isn’t the pathway to forgiveness in a man. At the very least, it’s the pathway to thinking about it.
****
My cell beeped and I opened my eyes to discover it was morning and I was alone in my bed. It didn’t bother me that Leland had left precipitously. I wasn’t a fuggler, remember, and he’d more than met my carnal needs so him not hanging around until I woke worked.
I tossed off the blankets, noting it was near eight, and then rapidly scrolled through the e-mail from Lauren responsible for the notification that ruined my sleep. Ah, Ella’s schedule. Fuck, all this for a six-year-old? And I could tell by the word choice and the phrasing that the attached memo—yep, a fucking memo—Leland had dictated directly.
Christ, how had he found the energy to spew all this shit after his mouth was kept busy on my dick all night?
I took a moment to stretch and breathe before I headed for the shower. I made quick work of washing my hair and the sweat and other things from my junk, toweled off, and dressed in a loose tee and jeans. The severe black shirts and trousers I wore on tour with Alan would have stood out like a sore thumb here. Coastal towns were trendy-casual places, and worse, very safe which pretty much would make Miss Ella the only first grader off to school for the day with a bodyguard.
Fuck, did Lee expect me to shuttle her round as if I really were a manny? That shit needed to be fixed fast, no matter who eventually took the position in Mexico.
Bodyguards guard; they don’t manny.
Second discussion item needing to be brought up with Lee, and I hadn’t even started my morning.
Bypassing the eating alone option, I went upstairs and wondered if Leland was still here and what that would be like in daylight and with daughter underfoot. I hadn’t been with a man before who had children—I killed that thought with a Patriot missile the second I had it because I wasn’t and had no intention ever of being involved with Lee.
Occasional fuck while I was here, oh yeah. But that was it. All sex, nothing more. Ever.
Before my foot hit the top step, my senses were alerted that the main floor was empty of him. I’d have felt him if he’d been any less than a klick from me.
On the kitchen island, I found coffee and a small array of prepared food choices artfully laid out in a small buffet with a note—Leland’s writing, though I didn’t know how I knew that—stating for me to eat up.
An image of him smirking flashed in my brain. Eat up. Already did, and I wasn’t talking about the food here.
I settled on a plate of eggs and bacon, good chow line grub, and stood there shoveling it down and sipping my java wondering how long it would be until the princess made an appearance.
After dumping my dishes in the sink, I checked my watch. OK. We’re late. What’s up with that?
I went down the hall and tapped her door with my knuckles. “Ella, it’s time to go.”
The door flew wide, hitting the wall.
She was dressed, hair done in pigtails, and I could tell she’d eaten because she had crumbs from her toast on her shirt. Her expression betrayed Leland had talked to her the night before, probably severely, hence her glare without accompanying insults and hiding in her room from me after breakfast. The hiding from me part made me feel bad, but not enough for my expression to crack or soften.
“From now on I want you in the kitchen, waiting for me, no later than eight,” I told her. “This is the last time I come to your room to get you.”
She marched on ahead of me toward the door, dragging her backpack behind her. I took in a deep breath, willing patience.
In the foyer I commanded, “Stop.”
She whirled to face me. “I thought you said we were going to school.”
“New rules. This is how we do things from now on. You wait until I open the door. You walk ahead of me on the left side.” Her brows puckered enough to reveal confusion and I touched her arm. “This is your left. We walk door to door, no stopping, no talking, and no looking at me. You climb into the seat through the door I open. Only that seat. You do not move until I climb into the car. Understood?”
She exhaled heavily. “That’s stupid. I don’t want to do it. I don’t have to.”
“There is no way other than my way from now on. You do what I tell you when I tell you.”
I reached for the knob.
“Why?”
I refrained from biting off the much overused retort because I said so. It was the wiser move not to acknowledge the question and Ella said why in a way that betrayed Leland was used to giving overly detailed explanations on everything to her.
Great. Time to undo the damage.
I lowered my glasses so we could stare eye to eye. “We are going to walk door to door, Ella. You are to stay directly ahead of me on my left side. You will not stop or look and talk to me. Door to door. Are we clear?”
She rolled her eyes, which was something I’d never had a six-year-old dare to do to me, not even Alan’s little ones, but eventually she stood down.
I opened the door.
For what it’s worth, when she was willing to follow directions she followed them well. She was soon buckled into the car beside me without further incident.
I programmed the GPS with the school’s address and selected a route before I started to drive.
After a few minutes, she said, “I’m not supposed to sit in the front seat. I’m too small. Daddy makes me sit in back.”
“You’ll sit in the seat beside me always. Those are my rules.”
“I don’t have to listen to you,” she repeated heatedly.
I ignored that and kept driving. Out of my peripheral vision I saw her staring out the window, obstinate and yet with a wounded air that chided me to be less of a hardnose with her. This girl definitely had something going on inside her. She was hostile, wounded, and I realized in sharp surprise, afraid of something. Fear left a very visible mark on a child. What was she so afraid of?
“Why do you want me gone, Ella?” I asked cautiously.
“You shouldn’t stay,” she whispered. “I don’t want you. And the men who killed Poppy Richard are just going to kill you so why don’t you go away? Jamie says the bad men haven’t gone, that they watch us and know everything always.”
Great, fucking Jamie was responsible for this. What a prick—though terrifying a little girl out of spite in a contentious divorce seemed beneath even him—and the judge who gave him visitation should be shot. I couldn’t imagine what kind of garbage Jamie had filled her head with since the two minutes I spent with him didn’t betray a good character.
Her comment bothered me when it shouldn’t have. Men watching the house and would kill me? In Montecito. That one did not compute, though kids could take one and one and come up with something completely illogical. It was possible Jamie had said something else and Ella had woven in her head her own frightening tale.
“I don’t need a manny.” Same tactic. New verse.
I pulled over on the side of the road and turned to face her. “Ella, I’m not a manny.”
She lifted her pert nose in the air. “Daddy says you are. Daddy’s always right.”
I banked my irritation over the always right comment, and before I spoke, I reminded myself it was the only way and the truth wasn’t a lie when it was being crafted in a way small ears could understand. Though I would have preferred honesty and directness even with children, there wasn’t a prayer that would work with Ella.
“If I tell you the truth, will you promise not to tell anyone but your daddy? No one. Not Jamie or Lauren. You can only tell your dad.”
She didn’t agree, but her eyes widened.
I searched for the words I’d used with Alan’s twin boys. “My job is to teach you how to have a guardian angel. It’s a tough job, only the most special kids get to have them, and it’s hard work. Frankly, I don’t think you can do it. But I’m teaching you how to take care of one so when he gets here to go to Mexico with you you’ll know what to do.”
She looked away. “I don’t believe you.”
I pulled back onto the road toward school. “I’m going to teach you anyway.”
We drove the last miles in silence. At school, I gave her a rundown on the transfer of her to the teachers. Door to door, not stopping or talking, etc. She did it without a misstep, albeit peevishly, but no argument.
Yep, it had worked just like it had with Alan’s smaller children. Having given her a reason not to hate me, things would get easier from here.
My day was now free until 1400 when school let out.
As I drove back to the house, I made a mental note to follow up on Ella’s comment about the men who killed Richard still watching to find if there was something there. It was also past time to investigate Leland’s south of the border business venture. The file had been vague of details.
Deliberately? Shit, I wouldn’t put anything past Lee.
I had plenty of resources of my own. By the time I was through there would be no intel about him I wouldn’t know.
Not that I wanted to know.
It was nothing to me.
He was nothing to me and I wasn’t staying with this job. But I didn’t want any of Jared’s guys to step into danger without knowing it. Something wasn’t adding up here.
Call it instinct.
Call it paranoia.
Call it obsession.
Fuck, it didn’t matter what it was called. I was going to do a background investigation on him anyway.