Guarded, page 15
I take my leave, hailing a cab to bring me home. As I ride in the backseat, I barely pay attention to the traffic, unaware of how long it takes for me to reach my destination. Rather, I replay all that Corie said to me—honing in on what she said about me being angry and scared. She was wrong about two things. First, I’m not scared of my feelings for Jill. Second, I’ll never not be angry. Though, I must admit that denying myself a woman has never felt like this before. It’s never made me so unbalanced. It’s never hindered my ability to stay in control of what’s always simmering beneath the surface.
By the time I’ve made it to my building, my head is so foggy that a run is the last thing on my mind. As fucked up as it is, I want to call Jill. I want to hear her voice. I want to know that she’s okay. I want to know if she’d even take the time to hear me, should I find any words to say, or if a trip out there would be nothing but a fucking waste of everyone’s time and effort.
Of course, I don’t call her. After closing myself in for the night, I kick off my boots, strip off my t-shirt, and tape my knuckles before heading toward my punching bag. I land the first hit, knowing I’ll be on that damn plane tomorrow afternoon. I land my second swing, admitting that I have not a fucking clue what I’m going to do when I get out there. I don’t relent, landing punch after punch until I’m dripping in sweat, sure of only one thing.
I fucked up because I am fucked up—and that’s never going to change.
A COURIER ARRIVES at my door at eight a.m. sharp. I sign for the keys to Britton Cortnie’s Colorado mountain home, then pocket them as I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all. If it wasn’t for Ashley’s friendship with the country pop princess herself, he’d have never taken his sabbatical in her house. If he hadn’t borrowed her keys, just like I am now, he’d have never stepped foot into that coffee shop in Dillon, Colorado. Had he never ventured into town for a cup of coffee, he would never have met Corie—and I would not have met Jill. I would not be planning on going to that same coffee shop. I would not be getting ready to hop on a plane, headed for the Rocky Mountains.
I’d laugh at the irony of it all if I thought it at all funny, but I don’t. I have no business going out there to do what I’m about to do. I walked away for a reason. I should leave well enough alone. Except, as selfish as it may be, I won’t be able to do what I do with the utmost precision if I don’t get this shit handled. Maybe, if I had more time, things would be different. I don’t know. I won’t ever know—because I don’t have more time. I have ten days.
I have no expectations, except to come home focused and ready to work. I know what I did. I know what I deserve. I’m not fool enough to believe that I should be given anything from the likes of her. But I also know what she deserves. I know what she wanted from me before I left. I know what I denied her. At the very least, I owe her answers. I don’t have many I’m willing to part with, but I have a few I’m man enough to offer, and so I will.
My phone rings from inside of my pocket, and I’m quick to see who it is. When I catch sight of Ashley’s name lit up across the screen, I know it’s time to own up to my plan.
“Hello?” I answer on the third ring.
“Hey. Heard my wife planned you a little vacation.”
“Yeah.”
“You goin’?”
“Yeah.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that.”
“I bet.”
Chuckling, he replies, “You’re stubborn as a mule, Leo. You’re hard as a rock. Most days, I ‘preciate that ‘bout you. But there’s nothin’ wrong with lettin’ a woman make you a little soft. Remember that. We’ll see you when you get back.”
“Yeah.”
“Good luck.”
He hangs up, and I reach up to run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends as I slide my phone back into my pocket. All of this attention on my personal life is getting a little out of control—it’s time I reign it the fuck in. With my flight scheduled to depart in four hours, I pull my duffel bag out of the closet, and I start packing.
HENRY SHOWS UP on Friday at the tail end of our morning rush. I spot him as he steps down from his truck, and the smile he wears even before he comes inside makes me feel something akin to giddy. Our date the other night ended up being exactly as he said it should be—fun. He was easy to talk to, he kept things light, and he made me laugh. It felt really nice just being in his company. After the last couple of weeks, which felt somewhat heavy and confusing, I needed a carefree night out.
As soon as he triggers the chime of the bell above the door, Ruth grins and giggles before she comes to switch places with me. I don’t even pretend to hide my smile from her as I slide into her vacated spot behind the register and start to ring up Henry’s usual.
“That’s a pretty smile on a pretty girl on a gorgeous Friday,” he says in greeting, making me blush.
“Well, that’s quite the good morning from a handsome gentleman like yourself,” I reply, bringing my eyes up to meet his.
“Oh, well, you know—just trying to butter you up a bit. Thought it might make it easier to get you to agree to go out with me again.”
Holding my hand out for his payment, I tell him, “I’m listening.”
The bell sounds, announcing another customer, but Henry has managed to earn my undivided attention. I don’t take my eyes off of him as he hands me a couple bills and says, “Tonight? I was going to try and let the guys go a little early, give them a head start on their weekend. Some of the crew likes to head home for a couple days—myself included—but I can think of a pretty reason to stick around for dinner. Heard there’s a Mexican restaurant in Frisco that serves a killer margarita. What’s that, like, fifteen, twenty minutes away?”
“Oh, are you talking about the…” We both shift our attention toward Ruth as her voice trails off before she whispers, “Ho. Ly. Shit. He’s hot!”
That’s when I sense it. I blink, my gaze still trained on Ruth, but I know. I can feel it—I can feel him, like there’s some sort of electric crackle that fills the air. Now that I’m aware of it, aware of him, I wonder if anyone else can feel it.
Not quite ready to lay eyes on him, I keep my attention on Ruth. It takes her a second, but when she turns her head to look at me, it’s only for a moment, and then her eyes shift back to him. Again, it’s only for an instant. The next thing I know, confusion tugging at her brow, she looks back at me. When her eyes find mine once more, her slight frown morphs into an expression of awe. I watch as her jaw falls open, realization of some kind making itself known on her face.
“Holy shit,” she repeats.
That’s when I know. She feels it, too.
“Are you going to look at me?”
My heart leaps at the sound of his voice, and I have to remind myself to breathe as I slowly twist my neck until I’m facing forward. I drag my eyes up, catching a glimpse of Henry’s bewildered face before I continue my upward journey. Henry isn’t short, but Leo stands high behind him, and it’s not difficult to see him over the top of Henry’s head.
When our gazes finally align—I’m not greeted with tenderness or warmth. He looks furious—his blue-green eyes hard. I’m so shocked to see him that I can barely wrap my head around the thought that I should be pissed that he looks pissed. Even worse, my body starts responding to him before I can get control of myself. His strong, square jaw, locked tight in frustration, is covered in his usual thin layer of scruff—and the scowl that tugs at his brow draws attention to the scar that marks his right eyebrow. If I didn’t know the power and the strength that he wields, if I didn’t know what it felt like to be handled by him—if I could somehow forget the pleasure that comes from his lack of tenderness, I’m sure my nipples wouldn’t be hard and my stomach wouldn’t be clenching in excitement as I stood under that stare.
But I do know.
Stepping to the side, I watch in my periphery as Henry looks to Leo and asks, “Is there a problem here?”
“Not your concern,” Leo clips.
“Right. And you are?”
“Not your concern.”
Henry coughs out a humorless laugh before he mutters, “That’s where you’re wrong. I have somewhat of an interest in Jill’s well-being, so I’m going to have to ask again—who are you?”
Cutting his eyes toward Henry, Leo replies, “I’m the man she’s fucking. Who the hell are you?”
“Oh, god,” I groan, clapping one of my hands over my face. “This is not happening,” I whisper, feeling completely mortified.
“It so is,” Ruth replies, her awe and amusement clearly expressed in her voice.
“Jill?” asks Henry gently. “Is this true? Are you seeing this guy? Do you want him to leave?”
My heart aches at the sincerity of his tone, and I feel like shit when I uncover my face to look at him. He’s that guy—that guy who wouldn’t stand a chance against Leo but would go down trying if it’s what I wanted. The trouble is, that’s not what I want. What I want is to know why Leo is here—why he claims to be the man I’m fucking, as in present tense—and why he appears to be angry at me when he’s the one who walked away.
I don’t say any of this. Instead, I place Henry’s cash on the counter and slide it toward him as I murmur, “It’s on the house today.”
He looks disappointed by my response, but I can’t worry about that now. Turning to Ruth, I start to take off my apron as I tell her, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums, her eyes bright as she nods.
Tossing my work garment under the counter, I make my way out in front of the register and take hold of Leo’s wrist before I pull him after me. I ignore the zing that races up my arm just from touching him, concentrating on getting him someplace private where we can talk. Neither of us says a word as I take us through the swinging door that leads into the rear of the shop, down the back hallway, and out the heavy, metal door. Once we’re outside, I let him go, whirling around to face him. I’m just about to speak when he grabs me by the waist, lifts me off my feet, spins me around, and presses me up against the brick siding of our building. I gasp, my arms and legs responding automatically, wrapping around him for support as he steps closer, eliminating the space between us.
I grab hold of his shoulders, trying to push him away. Of course, my efforts are fruitless; and when he brings his lips a hair’s breadth away from mine, I forget what I was doing in the first place.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
My clit pulses, my legs constrict around him, and I whimper before I reply, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know,” he breathes, one of his hands sliding up my side and around my breast.
My breath catches in my throat, and it takes every brain cell I can muster to keep myself from pressing into his touch. “You shouldn’t be touching me,” I barely manage.
“I know,” he sighs, squeezing me roughly.
This time, I can’t stop myself from arching my back, my body longing for more—desperate for all that I’ve missed over the last couple of weeks.
“I shouldn’t want you,” I moan.
“I know,” he growls, his breath heavy against my lips.
I have questions, so many questions. I’m also angry and hurt. For him to just show up, completely out of the blue, it’s unacceptable. It’s careless. It’s rude. It’s downright selfish. I know this. I know all of this without a shadow of a doubt—but that doesn’t stop my heart from racing; it doesn’t extinguish the passion inside of me that burns for him and only him; it doesn’t stifle the hope I thought was lost as it rushes to the surface and begs me to take what he’s offering. To kiss him right now would be a mistake, a horrible mistake. I know this.
I know this. And yet…
“God, Leo—” I whimper, fisting two handfuls of his shirt with my fingers before I close my lips around his.
He grunts, kissing me mercilessly; and for a moment, he is all there is in the whole entire world. He plunges his tongue into my mouth, and we moan together, as if neither of us has ever tasted anything so sweet and delicious. He kneads my small breast, pressing his body even closer to mine—the brick of the building digging through my t-shirt and into my back. When he bites down on my lower lip, I roll my hips in response, my body longing for friction.
A second later, when he pulls away from me abruptly, both of us panting for breath, I swallow my whine as I look into his eyes. He shakes his head—whether at me or himself, I’m not sure—and then slides his hand around my waist again. He gives me a squeeze and then takes a step back, prying me off of him and setting me back on my feet.
The instant I’m on the ground again, I’m confronted with his rejection, and my temper flares. He takes another step back from me, running his fingers through his hair, as if to collect himself, and I take advantage of my opening. Closing the space between us once more, I hit him with the side of my fists and cry, “What the fuck?! What are you doing here? Huh? What is wrong with you? What do you want from me?”
He catches me by the wrists, his fingers clamping around me tightly, and he gives me a shake, silencing me as he glares down at me. “Who the fuck was that guy in there, huh?”
I meet his glare with a venomous glare of my own and yell, “What does it matter to you? You don’t give a shit about me, Leo—I’m just a good fuck, remember?”
“Who is he?” he barks, giving me another hard shake.
Now feeling a little frightened, I shrink in his hold and reluctantly offer up my answer. “His name is Henry.”
“He fucking you?”
My eyes burn with the sensation of fresh tears as my cheeks heat up in embarrassment and rage. At first, I don’t answer him; but when he snarls at me, I can’t silence the words that come tumbling out of my mouth.
“No, you asshole!”
He frees another growl, letting go of my wrists only to take hold of my ass. He presses me against him, and I can feel his erection through his jeans. I ignore my damp panties and try my damnedest not to let on how much I crave him in this moment.
“Careful, baby—I’m not afraid to fuck you right here, right now.”
My body goes limp in surrender. As I let myself feel his massive frame wrapped around my little one—supporting me—I let my tears come. I know that I’m no match against him. I never have been. Now, no matter how much I fight it, I know that I never will be.
“Why are you here, Leo? What do you want?”
“You.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I state the obvious and whisper, “You left me.”
“I know,” he murmurs with a furrowed brow.
“I was honest with you,” I cry. “I told you how I felt, and you called me a great lay.”
“I know,” he tells me, sliding his arms up and around my back as he cradles me against his chest.
My voice coming out small and pathetic, I confess, “You hurt me.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that!” I protest, my voice deep as my throat is clogged with a sob.
Lifting me from my feet, he holds me so tight I can barely breathe when he says, “I’m staying on the edge of town. I’ll text you the address. Come over after work.” When I don’t respond right away, he touches his forehead to mine and sighs before he mutters, “I’ll explain. Come over.”
I nod my head against his, trying to swallow my tears, and he presses a soft, closed-mouth kiss to my lips. He sets me on my feet, pulling away from me slowly, and I stare up at him, still taken aback by all that’s just happened.
“After work,” he repeats.
“I’m off at three,” I tell him.
He offers me a curt nod and stares at me a moment. Then, without another word, he walks away. I watch him go, feeling much different than the last time—though, still completely and utterly confused.
I’m not entirely sure how long I stay, standing in the cool morning air, staring at the back door before it opens again. When Ruth pops her head out, I shake mine clear, quickly reaching up to dry my cheeks.
“Um, wow,” she mutters, her eyes still wide in awe. “If that’s the guy who stole your sunshine, I totally get it now. Seriously—he’s like the definition of perfection.”
I cough out a laugh, shaking my head at her as I start to head inside. “Nobody’s perfect.” I stop before I step over the threshold, resting my hand on the doorjamb as I think about that kiss. No. Not just the kiss—but the way he put his hands on me, and the urgency I felt in every touch. Turning slightly to look over my shoulder, I amend my statement and say, “Nobody’s perfect; but for reasons I can’t explain, he’s the source of my sunshine. He sets me on fire.”
THIS MORNING HADN’T gone exactly as I had planned. I was up long before the sun, my body clock not giving a fuck about the time difference, and I waited to head into town as long as I could. By a quarter to seven, I was in my rented Jeep Wrangler, anxious to lay eyes on Jill. It wasn’t hard to find the place, but when I walked in, I was confronted with a sight I wasn’t prepared to see.
There’s something about Jill that has always called to me. Something delicate and pure; something precious and rare; something genuine and raw—whatever it is, it’s all Jill. Since the moment I laid eyes on her, I’ve felt compelled to protect her. Then I touched her, and it became something more. I fucked her, and I didn’t just want to protect her, I wanted to possess her. Just the thought of another man laying his hands on her pissed me off. Her body belonged to me—it responded to mine—and so long as I had anything to say about it, no other dick was allowed anywhere near her.
Then I walked away.
Seeing that fucker flirt with her, hearing him ask her out to dinner, it took everything in me not to grab the back of his collar and throw him on his ass. I restrained myself, barely, and then I felt it—I felt her awareness of me. The tension that has existed between us from the beginning, it filled the air. It was so thick, I thought I’d suffocate from it. When Jill finally looked up at me, I knew that I’d been lying to myself. One look into those gorgeous, big, blue eyes and I couldn’t deny that I didn’t come out here with no expectations. I didn’t travel across the country to offer her excuses and let her decide what the fuck she wanted to do with them. I came out here to take what’s mine.
