Guarded, page 23
As we walk by the lobby’s front entrance, headed to the hotel bar—where we’re supposed to meet up with Corie and Ashley—I notice a bunch of people with cameras casually hanging out along the sidewalk. Leo notices them, too, and mutters a curse under his breath.
“They’re here for Ashley, huh?”
“Yeah. Which means someone leaked his whereabouts.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“For the right price.”
He guides me through the dining room and straight to the bar, pulling out a stool for me. As I take a seat, he takes out his phone to call Ashley. It’s Leo’s idea to go out through the back, instructing the car to meet us in the loading dock; but by the time he’s voiced his plan, Ashley and Corie are already making their way into the bar, so we decide to face the paparazzi instead.
This time, as we make our way outside, Leo doesn’t leave me with Corie. He clamps his hand around mine, keeping me close as he makes way for the rock star and his backwoods belle. When we reach the Bentley limo provided by the hotel for Ashley’s use, Leo silently instructs me to get in. I assume he’ll take his seat up front with the driver, like he usually does when he’s on duty, which is why I’m pleasantly surprised when he takes the seat beside me, facing Ashley. It’s Frank who closes us in before occupying the front passenger seat.
“Damn, Jill,” Ashley starts to say in his deep, southern drawl, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “You got him to sit in the backseat. He never sits in the back seat. I think he might like you.”
I smile at my man, leaning into him as I wrap my arms around his bicep. “You might be right,” I say teasingly. Leo looks over at me, resting a hand on my knee, and my smile turns into a grin. As I press into him even closer, lowering my voice so that only he can hear me, I tell him, “Or maybe you’ve just got a thing for my legs.”
He smirks at me, his big, warm hand giving my knee a squeeze. That one touch—that one, gentle, endearing touch—it means the world to me. I won’t deny that I’ve loved every minute that we’ve spent naked together in the last several hours, but there’s something about just having him next to me that I now know not to take for granted. And for the dozenth time since the clock struck midnight, I declare that this is the best birthday ever.
DINNER IS AMAZING. Ashley picked the restaurant, having been there before, and we spend a couple of hours at The Brooklyn, enjoying the most fabulous meal. Given that it’s my birthday, and I’ve spent all afternoon working up a monstrous appetite, I indulge in a few things—the creamiest clam chowder, the most delicious crab cakes, and lobster ravioli that is to die for. I drink too much wine, and laugh too loud, but every time I look over at Leo and find him watching me—his gaze one that can only be described as completely possessive—I’m reassured that I’m not being a bother. I’m having a good time with a few of my favorite people, and I couldn’t ask for more.
It’s a little after ten when we pull up in front of the hotel. I’m still drunk, and with the paparazzi crowding our vehicle, I’m nervous to get out. The last thing I want to do is make a fool of myself in front of all these people. Granted, I know it’s not my face they’re trying to capture, but still.
“My Lee?” I murmur, grabbing hold of his arm before he can reach for the door handle. He looks back at me, a silent question expressed on his face, and I cling to him as I beg, “Don’t let me fall.”
His eyes dance around my face a moment before he grunts, “Stay here. I’ll be back for you.”
I nod, and he opens the door, stepping outside. The cameras start flashing almost immediately, and I look across from me as Ashley and Corie get ready to make their exit.
“Happy birthday, darlin’,” says Ashley with a wink before following after Leo.
Corie, who had just as much wine as I did, leans over and kisses my cheek before she mutters, “See you tomorrow! We’ll leave at eleven. Get some sleep.” She says the words and then smiles knowingly before she adds, “Or not.”
“Sweetheart?” Ashley calls out, his hand reaching back into the limo.
“Coming, honey!”
They take their leave, shutting me inside the vehicle, and I wait only a couple of minutes before Leo returns. He helps me out, and I cling to his arm, using him to help keep me steady. With Ashley and Corie already inside, the paparazzi aren’t quite so gung-ho about snapping my picture, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that a couple capture an image or two. I can’t understand why they would, but I don’t think on it. Relieved to be inside and out of the cold, I let my mind wander to what I’ll likely be up to for the rest of the night.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when Leo stops walking abruptly, causing me to stumble. His grip around my hand tightens, and I look up at him in confusion before I follow his gaze. He’s staring at a woman who is standing across the lobby. She approaches us slowly, her eyes darting back and forth between Leo and me, and I can’t help but notice how she fidgets with her hands.
A low growl rumbles from Leo’s chest, and I frown up at him, totally at a loss as to what’s going on—that is, until the woman speaks.
“Leonardo, please…”
My head snaps back in her direction, surprised by the way she addresses him. Of course, it makes sense that his full name is Leonardo, but I never thought about it before. Nobody ever calls him that. Ever.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Leo asks, his voice dark and gravely, dripping with venom. “How did you find me?”
“It’s kind of hard to keep a low profile when you work for someone so famous. Your father…”
She keeps talking, but I don’t hear a word she says, my heart pounding wildly in my chest as I finally understand who this woman is. I stare at her, remembering the one and only thing Leo has ever told me about her—that she was weak. To be honest, she doesn’t carry herself with an ounce of confidence. She looks slightly disheveled, but only because her clothes are too big for her; and she looks like she hasn’t had a good night’s rest in a while. Other than that, I can see that she was once a beautiful young woman.
“I have nothing for you,” I hear Leo say as I tune back into the conversation.
“You don’t understand,” she starts to argue, taking another step toward us.
“Don’t give me that shit,” Leo spits, his grip around my hand so tight, I’m sure it’ll be numb any second now. “I said I was done. I’m fucking done.”
Her pleading eyes, filled with so much sadness and desperation, look to me, and Leo growls again.
“Don’t look at her,” he demands.
She doesn’t heed his command, her eyes locking with mine, as if she’s trying to beseech my help. In an instant, Leo has shoved me behind him. The next thing I know, he’s leaning toward his mother, his voice so soft it’s scary as he demands, “Keep your fucking eyes off my woman.”
“When will you stop punishing us? We’re family, Leonardo—you can’t change that. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t—”
I gasp when he closes the distance between them. She’s taller than me, but I’m convinced nobody is taller than Leo—and he’s easily double her weight. Nevertheless, she doesn’t back away as he stands looking down at her and mutters, “Fuck you. Fuck him, too.”
Never having seen him this angry before, I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t do something. Even in my tipsy state, I’m aware enough to remember that there are more than a dozen photographers right outside. If this argument turns into an even bigger scene, who knows what could happen?
I don’t know what’s going on—I don’t know what history could possibly exist between these two for him to speak to his mother in such a way—but I don’t worry about that right now. All I care about is Leo. All I want is to get him away from this situation and make sure that he’s all right. I don’t even give it a second thought before I reach out and touch his back. I see it as his body locks up at my touch, but he doesn’t look back at me.
Taking it one step further, I circle my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss against his back before I murmur, “Lee? Can we just go? Please?”
He doesn’t move at first. When he reaches for my hands, prying them away from his body, I’m afraid he’s shoving me off of him. He proves me wrong as he passes my right hand from his right to his left. Gripping my fingers, he tugs me a couple steps away from his mother before he stops.
Turning only his head, he looks back at her and grumbles, “Stay the hell away from me.”
I stare down at my feet, willing myself not to look back at the woman. I know what it’s like to have the man at my side walk away from me, but he’s never talked to me the way he’s talking to her. I can’t imagine what that feels like, and I don’t ever want to find out.
As he starts to pull me toward the elevators, I lose the fight against my will and I look back at his mother from over my shoulder. I expect to see pain in her eyes, but that’s not what I see. Instead, she stares after us with a hollow, cold expression. It frightens me, and I grip Leo’s hand tighter.
When he squeezes my hand in return, I shift my gaze up at him. His expression isn’t cold at all. It’s heated. It’s angry, and something tells me there’s only one way he’ll be able to release his rage—and I’m ready. For him, I’ll always be ready.
WHEN I TRIP over my feet walking down the hall, he mutters a curse under his breath before bending down and scooping me up into his arms. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, cognizant of the fact that being cradled against his chest should feel different than it does right now. Instead of excitement, I’m distracted by my concern. He’s trembling. I didn’t notice before, when it was just my hand that he was holding, but I can feel it now—his body shaking as he grapples with whatever it is that’s going through his head.
The arm around my back lets me go as he reaches into his back pocket and retrieves the key to the room. I hold him tighter as he opens the door, and he carries me to the bed before tossing me onto the mattress. It almost knocks the wind out of me, but I ignore it, propping myself up on my elbows as I look over at him.
His gaze pierces me straight through, and my eyes widen in surprise when he rips his shirt open—buttons flying everywhere. He then tugs it off of his body with such force, I’m surprised he doesn’t tear the thing to shreds.
“What are you waiting for?” he grumbles, lifting his chin at me.
My cheeks heat in a blush as he starts to unfasten his jeans, and I suddenly understand how this is going to go. No kisses, no foreplay—just straight-up angry fucking. I nod at him, wishing to do whatever it is he needs right now, and scramble out of bed. I drop my purse on the floor, then my coat. The instant I’ve pulled my sweater-dress over my head, his hands are on me. I suck in a sharp breath as he spins me around and quickly unhooks my bra. I let it fall to my feet with my dress, looking back over my shoulder at him just as he shreds my panties with a grunt.
“Lee—”
I lose my words when he takes hold of the back of my neck, forcing me down until I’m propped up with my hands on the bed. He kicks my feet wider apart and then runs his fingers through my slit. I finally start to relax when he rubs circles around my clit, and it only takes a moment for my body to do his bidding—my core growing slick with my arousal. He growls when he shoves two fingers inside of me, assuring himself that I’m ready for him, and I moan my delight.
Pulling out of me, he commands, “On the bed. Chest down. Ass up.”
I do as he says, not even bothering to remove my boots as I position myself on the edge of the bed, precisely as he’s instructed. When the room fills with the loud crack of his hand clapping against my backside, I cry out, wincing a little as I ball the comforter beneath me into my fists. He’s never hit me that hard before. It scares me a little, but I don’t say anything, sure that he’d never hurt me.
Still on his feet behind me, he takes hold of my hips and impales me with his hard cock. Right from the start, he fucks me roughly, yanking me back as he thrusts forward. I’m soon lost in the sweet mixture of pain and pleasure that he always gives me. When he smacks my opposite ass cheek, it’s not as hard as before, and the zing that rushes up my spine makes me groan. I throw my head back and gasp for breath, my orgasm already blossoming deep within me.
I’m startled out of my euphoria when he grips hold of the back of my neck and shoves my head back down, holding me there as he continues to drive in and out of me. He’s never held me captive like this, and I don’t know what to make of it. I try not to think too much about it, but when his fingers begin to tighten their hold around me, I start to feel uncomfortable. I hate that I can’t see his face. For the first time ever, I wish he didn’t have me in such a vulnerable state.
“Lee?” I breathe.
My heart starts to beat faster—only, it’s not excitement that rushes through my veins, but a rising sence of panic.
“Lee?” I whimper, trying to lift my head.
His grip tightens, and I don’t budge. Suddenly, I find it hard to breathe. At first, I can’t tell if it’s my fear that constricts my lungs, or if he’s starting to cut off my air supply. It only takes me a second to realize that I don’t care which it is, I just want him to stop.
“Lee!” I cry, sucking in a shallow inhale as I try using my arms to help me push against him.
I’m not strong enough, and—again—I don’t move an inch.
As his thrusts become erratic and wild, his hand tightens even more, and my eyes flood with tears. He’s hurting me, and I’m afraid that if he doesn’t stop soon, I’ll black out.
I choke on what little breath I can manage, and he comes at the same time that I let out a piercing cry, screaming, “Leo!”
I have no idea whether he lets go of me because he’s finished, or because he finally heard me, but I don’t have a mind to think about it. As soon as I’m free, I instinctively scramble out of reach, sobbing as I gasp for air, my hands lifting to cover the sore sides of my neck. I don’t look at him right away, sure that we both need a minute to calm down. When I do finally glance his way, the expression he wears breaks my heart.
The anger that marred his features before is completely gone. Now—his jaw locked tight, the muscle in his cheek twitching—his blue-green eyes stare at me with so much remorse, I feel it in my soul. He hadn’t meant to hurt me. I know this without him having to say a word. I know this because I trust that he cares for me. I know this because whatever happened in the lobby, he didn’t allow me to see it unfold and then run away from me. He needed me, and he took what he needed.
Was it okay? No. Do I ever want to experience it again? Definitely not. Nevertheless, he warned me about the anger that lives inside of him. Of course, I had no idea it could be so scary; and maybe I’m stupid for thinking this, but now that I do know, it’s not him I’m afraid of. It’s the demons inside of him. That said, after all that’s happened since we returned to the hotel, I believe we can deal with it—if he’ll let me in, if he’ll let me in fully—we can deal with it together.
Carefully pushing myself up in a seated position, I keep my distance, but try my best to silently convey that I’m still here; that I’m not going anywhere. I won’t lie and pretend that I’m not still shaken. My body is still trembling and my heart is still racing—but he belongs to me. I can’t abandon him. Not now. Especially not now. He looks so broken.
I don’t know how long he stares at me, but whatever it is he sees in my eyes, it makes his brow furrow in a deep scowl. Before I realize what’s happening, I watch as he closes his jeans and swipes his shirt up from off of the floor.
“Lee?” I whisper, unable to manage much more as tears clog my throat.
He roars, throwing a punch into the wall, and my eyes widen in shock at the hole he leaves behind before he storms out of the room.
I SLIP BACK through the door quietly, hoping against all hope that she’s asleep. I’ve been gone for hours, and she should be passed out by now. All the lights are still on, but when I reach the foot of the bed, I see that her eyes are closed. I’m only temporarily relieved. I see that she’s sleeping in one of my t-shirts, and it’s like a punch straight to the gut.
I hurt her. After confronting my mother in the hotel lobby, I was so blinded by rage, I could barely think. I should have dropped Jill in the room and gone for a run, or headed down to the gym—fucking something other than what I did. Seeing the look on her face when she crawled away from me—the fear that shone in her eyes—I’ve never felt like less of a man than I did in that moment.
I make my way closer to her, knowing I shouldn’t, but unable to stop myself. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I watch as she sleeps. Then, needing to know—needing to see—I reach my hand out and gently sweep her hair off of her neck and behind her shoulder. The sight of the bruises I left on her skin makes me sick; and while I know I don’t deserve the luxury of looking away, that’s exactly what I do.
Propping my elbows on my knees, I bury my face in my hands. I fucked up. Should have known that I would. Should never have let myself get to this point. I knew from the beginning that I’d hurt her. I knew that I was too fucked up. I knew these hands weren’t capable of handling the precious treasure that she is.
Fuck!
I flinch, my head snapping up as I feel her delicate touch on my arm. Twisting my neck to look at her, I move down the bed a little, until I’m out of reach.
“Don’t,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Lee,” she whispers, her voice husky from sleep.
I watch as she pushes herself upright, rubbing at her eyes before she scoots down toward me. My muscles tense up as she slides her hand onto my forearm, tracing her fingers up the inside of my wrist before fitting her palm against mine. As she laces our fingers together, her eyes staring directly into mine, everything within me wants to turn away. Her compassion, her grace—her evident forgiveness—it’s unjustified. It’s appalling. It’s too fucking much. And yet, I can’t look away.
