Chapter 10

Lola

He walks me home.

The park isn’t far from the house I’m renting (which is how I found it), so when Garrett starts making noises about heading back to the SUVs, I show him the path to the other side of the park. The path that lets out four doors down from my little cottage.

I’m not sure how I feel about tonight, not sure how I feel about Garrett at all. Oh, he’s super charming and super kind and super gorgeous—kind of goes hand-in-hand with the whole Prince Charming thing he’s got going on—but is that enough for me to ask him in? Enough for me to throw caution out the window and climb into bed with one of the world’s most eligible bachelors?

There’s a part of me that wants to say not just yes, but hell yes! I mean, I’m obviously attracted to the guy, and he’s obviously attracted to me. And yet…there’s a little voice in the back of my head warning me not to do this. Not to go down this path, no matter how tempting it is. I tend not to listen to that voice on a regular basis, but tonight…tonight it seems to be making a whole lot of sense.

I think about all the attention we got in that restaurant earlier, think about how fascinated the people of this country—and the world—are with every little thing he and his brother Kian do. Then I think about the look on his face when he threw that stupid coin. Heartbroken. Desperate. Torn to pieces. And I know that no matter how much I’d like to sleep with Garrett, I’m not going to.

He’s damaged goods.

Not that I’m judging him for that. Kidnapped, months of torture followed by months of recovery? I don’t blame him at all for the damage he carries just under the surface, the damage he tries so hard to hide. But I recognize that damage because I’m damaged too, and if this life has taught me anything, it’s that two people as messed up as we are really have no business being together.

Even if it’s just a one-night hookup.

Even if it doesn’t mean anything.

No matter how tempting it is—and it is tempting. So, so tempting. But one night of red-hot sex is not as tempting as the life I’ve worked so hard to build for myself. Not as tempting as my hard-won sanity.

No matter how good in bed I think he’s going to be.

So after we hop another fence, make our way out of a small forest of trees and start the long walk up the driveway to my cottage, I gently tug my hand away from his. Slowly put a little more distance between us.

Garrett doesn’t say anything, but I know he notices. It’s in the way his body tenses up, in the way his eyes grow just a little bit more watchful. By the time we get to the door, it feels like there’s a whole lake between us. One that even Garrett, with his former Olympic swimming dreams, can’t swim across.

When we finally reach the front porch, I take a deep breath, then start, “I have a really long—”

But Garrett beats me to it, his smile a little rueful. “You don’t need to make excuses. I’m not the kind of guy who needs a reason for a woman to say no.”

Shit. “It’s not you—”

“It’s okay if it is. I get that the prince thing is a lot.” He jerks his head toward the bodyguards, who are standing several feet behind us, doing their best to blend into the trees, which somehow only makes them more noticeable.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how you do it.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it.” The pensive look is back in his eyes, and I really don’t like it.

“I really did have a good time tonight,” I say as I reach for his free hand.

“No, you didn’t.” But he’s grinning as he hands me the pastry box. “I’m sorry about the restaurant. Thanks for dessert, though. And for making me hop that fence. It’s been a long time since I broke the rules.”

I’m pretty sure he’s never broken the rules, which may be why—when he leans down to kiss my cheek—I turn my head at the last second. He makes a surprised sound, but he recovers quickly. Then he’s pulling me into his body, his mouth soft and warm against mine.

He feels good, tastes good, and before I make a conscious decision to do it, I’m dropping the pastry box and pushing onto my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck.

He groans a little, his arms wrapping around me as well.

His hands slide down to rest against my lower back and it’s my turn to moan, my turn to press myself against him. As his hard chest pushes against my breasts, as his big, warm hands rub lightly at my back, I forget the million and one reasons I shouldn’t sleep with him.

I forget the clothes piled up in my living room and the photo shoot I have for my website in the morning.

I even forget the bodyguards just a few yards down the driveway.

I forget everything and anything that isn’t Garrett and the hot, slick heat of his mouth against mine.

He slides his tongue along my bottom lip, once, twice, before licking slowly, inexorably, inside my mouth. I part my lips on a gasp, let him inside. Then have to grab onto the front of his shirt as my knees tremble at the warmth of him. At the power I can feel burning inside of him.

My knees are still shaking, my fingers still twisting in the silk of his dress shirt, when he finally pulls away several seconds—minutes?—later.

“Thank you,” he says again, rubbing his thumb over my mouth in one of the most sensual caresses I’ve ever experienced.

Suddenly, I want to invite him in, want to climb him like a tree and wrap myself around him. Wrap myself up in him. It’s a weird feeling—an uncomfortable feeling—and it has me jerking back when I want nothing more than to press forward.

“I should…I should go in.” My voice is several octaves lower—and hoarser—than it usually is, but at least it’s not shaking the way my knees are. It’s a small victory, but at this point I’ll take it. Especially when every instinct I have is screaming for me to say to hell with work, to hell with all my well-thought-out reasons as to why we can’t be together, and just invite him in so I can ride him all night.

But Garrett obviously takes a girl at her word—and obviously has a hell of a lot more self-control than I do—because he backs away, slowly, slowly, slowly. He even goes so far as to bend down and pick up the battered, but still closed, pastry box and hand it to me with a rueful grin.

“Pretty sure the éclairs survived the fall,” he says. “But I’m not so sure about the napoleons.”

It doesn’t matter. Nothing does but the feel of his mouth moving over mine. The feel of his body pressed against mine.

Because the thought scares me as much as it arouses me, I take a step back. Smile at him. Even let him put the pastry box in my hands.

I can’t want this man. Can’t want this tortured prince who is torn between who he once was and who he is now.

But I do want him—in my body and in my arms. And while I’m more than okay with having a one-night stand with Garrett to work him out of my system, something tells me that fucking him will have the opposite effect. And I am totally, completely, 120 percent not okay with that.

Which is why I stumble back a few more steps and reach for my keys. It’s why I fumble them into the lock and why I push the door open and nearly fall inside without so much as glancing Garrett’s way.

And it’s why I murmur a strangled, “I hope everything works out for you,” even as I push the door closed, all but slamming it in his face.

Right before the door closes I see a look of utter astonishment on Garrett’s face. It’s enough to snap me out of the sexual trance he put me into with just one kiss, enough to have me grinning at the fact that Garrett isn’t a guy who has very many doors slammed in his face.

For a second, just a second, I think about opening the door back up and saying good night like a sane person. But in the end, I can’t bring myself to do it. I might not be in a sexual trance anymore, but my knees are still shaking and my heart is still beating way too fast.

Garrett brings out the wild in me that’s never very far from the surface, and while that might be a good thing in bed, I’m smart enough to know that right now it’s the last thing either one of us needs. No matter how amazing it feels.

Which is why I keep the door firmly closed, my hand and forehead pressed up against it, as I wait for the telltale sounds of Garrett walking away.

It takes longer than it should.