CHAPTER 20
EMILY
I’d gone to sleep with Carter’s kiss still on my lips and annoyance in my bones. Once I slept off the annoyance, the remnants of the kiss remained. I woke up the next morning with an unbearable heaviness between my legs.
I rolled onto my stomach and slid my hand under my panties. I was slick everywhere, and I gasped at my own touch. Forehead to mattress, I spread my legs and thought of him, his taste, the pressure of his lips, the fifth of July smell all over him. His hardness on my hip. He’d felt huge. Monstrous. Maybe my perception was off, because I hadn’t shared myself with a man in ages, but still. When I slid my finger inside, the space seemed completely inadequate for the size of him.
And that hard cock was because he kissed me and I wanted it. It was for me. When I let myself come, I made it slow so I could think of him losing control on top of me, a grunting mess of unpracticed pleasure.
I dropped to the sheet, relieved. Physically I’d let go of a building tension, and mentally I’d had a realization. As I’d imagined him letting go with me, I let go of the idea that Vince could hurt him. He was tougher, smarter, more in control than Peter. He could outsmart Vince in a heartbeat. I didn’t need to be scared for him. He could handle my brand of trouble. He already had. He’d wiped away the sting of the humiliation in the hall and turned it into no more than a stained dress.
I sighed to myself. All that was great, but I still had the sneaking suspicion that despite the bare ring finger, he had a wife, or an involved ex-wife, or a fiancée.
The sun was just rising, making the white curtains glow. Behind them, at patio level, sat a little blob of a shadow.
The shadow meowed, and I groaned.
I got a bowl of Meow Mix and put it in front of her. She went right for it before I even backed away.
“Don’t get used to it,” I said, giving her a bowl of water. “I just want to get rid of it. Once I’m out, I’m not buying another bag.”
I took a shower, got dressed, had some yogurt. There was a ring at the gate. I checked the cameras and buzzed in Carter. I opened the door to a freshly shaven, nice-smelling bodyguard with a huge cock.
I smirked and looked at the ground, trying not to think of the last part, but failed. We’d argued about something, but I’d forgotten it for a minute.
His inability to be with me, overall. That was the argument. Protecting me from Vince while we were together. Walking and chewing gum at the same time.
“Hi,” Carter said. “You ready?”
“Do you sleep?”
“Not much. We’re taking my car.”
There really was no working around it. Not that I wanted to. All my resistance was out the window. His lips had done it. His tongue. I could still taste it where the toothpaste was wearing off. Could still feel the way it pushed into my mouth.
He opened the back door of a black Audi. I was sure I’d seen his car before, but I didn’t realize it was that low and sexy.
“How’s the cat?”
“Hungry. You’re going to have to take me back here in the afternoon so I can feed her again.”
“My pleasure.”
He smiled on the left more than the right, and I had to look away from him.
I got into the back seat, and he thupped the door closed. He walked around the front, unbuttoning his jacket. His pants sat flat against his abdomen, and his tie flip-flopped in the breeze. I touched my chest. I’d worn red. I wasn’t sure if it was a reproach of the red X from the night before or a challenge to try a red pen again.
He slid into the driver’s seat and twisted around.
“Are you all right?”
“Mmm hmm.”
He turned back around and started the car. A half-eaten Danish sat on the passenger seat.
“Are we going to have another ‘about last night’ conversation?” I asked.
“If you want to.”
What did I want to say? Everything, but mostly, I wanted to tell him how much I liked kissing him and how conflicted I was. I wanted to demand answers immediately and give him space at the same time.
All the words tried to jump forward, but when he stopped at a light, our eyes met in the rearview. The words landed in a tangle, unsaid.
He tapped the steering wheel when he turned it, using both hands for the first time since I’d gotten in.
“Hey,” I said.
“Yeah?” He briefly looked at me in the mirror.
“What happened to your hand?”
“Burn.” He brushed his left hand over the bandage at the top of his palm, right where you’d burn it if you were picking up a hot pot handle. He caught my eye in the rearview again.
I didn’t know if I believed him.
“What were you cooking?”
“Breakfast.”
“And you still went to get a Danish?”
He rubbed his upper lip with his left hand and tapped the wheel with the bandaged one.
“I burned my eggs.”
Right. Hot pot. Burned hands. Smoke-filled kitchen.
“You know what’s funny?” I said.
“The Three Stooges.”
“I don’t know anything about you. You could live in your mother’s basement.”
“That’s just where I bury the bodies.”
Blatant avoidance. It had been cute before; now it was getting on my nerves.
“Are you married?”
“No!”
He could have been lying, but lying liars always lied. There wasn’t a thing I could do about that except make sure I asked.
Something was wrong. We’d kissed twice, and twice he’d shut down. I should have been the one shutting down. I was the one with all the ex-boyfriend baggage. Why was I the one who was always so willing?
But there he was in the front seat, driving with both hands on the wheel, glancing at me once in a while to make sure I wasn’t choking on my tongue in the back seat. Discomfort radiated out of him.
Here I was with my hands in my lap thinking about ways to kiss him again.
He pulled into the little lot and wedged into a space. He turned off the car, popped his seat belt, and stared at the wheel for a split second too long. I was about to open the car door myself when he turned all the way around, arm over the back of his seat, bandaged hand on the back of the passenger side.
“Kissing you . . .” He stopped and looked at my lips so intensely I folded them back and bit them. “You’re dangerous. I can’t even see your lips, but I can taste them. I couldn’t brush the taste of you out of my mouth this morning. Right now. The honey. I can taste it but not enough. I want to kiss you again, and I can’t. I lose my shit around you. I can’t do it. My job is control. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My jaw loosened, and I let my lips go.
“No. I don’t. I’ve met bodyguards before. You’re a stoic bunch, but you’re not all celibate. And if you think this is easy for me, you’re wrong. I’m afraid too. I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt because of me. Last night . . .” I put my fingertips to my lips as if that would keep the choking sob from coming. I kept it back. “Last night just showed me he’s back, and if he’ll hurt me, he’ll hurt you.”
If I thought the seats would be a barrier between us, I was wrong. He launched himself between them and planted his lips on mine. Our third kiss was unexpected, uncomfortable, with him stretched between front and back. I wove my fingers in his hair, giving him my mouth and taking his.
I wanted that kiss to tell him it was all right. He could lose control. He could be more than a protector. He was as safe with me as I was with him. But I couldn’t without lying to both of us.
He yanked his lips away.
“Trust me.” He leaned his forehead on mine.
A clack at the window made me swallow my words. It was Fabian, looking at the scene through the side window. He tapped his watch as if he wasn’t seeing anything out of the ordinary.
“Stoic bunch,” I said.
“He’s right.” He crawled back to the front. “You’re going to be late.”
He got out and opened the door for me, taking my bags as I stepped onto the cracked asphalt.
“Let’s just act normal for today.” I stood in the unflinching sunshine.
“Later, then.” He smirked with one side of his beautiful face, and it took all my energy not to kiss his dimple.