CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHA CHA
My ruined latex pants lie in a puddle under my top in the bathroom. A trail of oil droplets and who knows what else follows my path to the shower. Steam fills the space as I shampoo my hair and lather my skin. The room is obscured by puffy clouds that block out everything—the walls, the mirror—leaving me in a dreamscape space where I can pretend I’m alone, just for a moment. I know Drake waits for me outside, keeping an eye on the door. He always does. There’s security in that, but right now, I need to be clean.
Close to scalding water cascades over my skin. I need it, just to wash the oil from the latex off me, though I don’t want to clean away Drake’s touch. I ache in so many ways, all of them good. My body has never felt so used, so thrashed.
Despite the lovers I’ve taken from my previous bodyguards, I have never, not once, been with a man anything like Drake.
I’ve never been kissed by anyone like Drake. I’ve never been loved by anyone like Drake.
I’ve never fallen in love with a man like Drake.
I close my eyes, letting the water block out the world. I’ve fallen in love with the most unyielding, relentless man I’ve ever met. The man who stalked me. The man who, I suspect, might just love me back.
It’s impossible and everything I want all at once. But I have no idea if what I want is the same thing that he’s chasing. The man who draws away from everything, all the way out here in the mountains, and only comes out to play, taking security contracts and changing careers as it suits him.
“You’re fucking mine, princess. I’ll give you what you need. Everything. I promise.”
The thought that he might,just might, want me like I do him leaves me hot all over again. Facing him on that front is a different matter. I want to hide away from him and never bring it up but… also I can’t hide here forever. We have to go back. Even Shayne hasn’t emailed me, which either means he’s scared of me, Drake or a bit of both.
If he’s scared of Drake, I don’t blame him. I am too, sometimes, but in a good way.
He’s still intimidating as all hell, though.
I let the spray wash the soapy lather away once I’m satisfied that I’m oil residue free, relieved that the hot water lasts long enough and I’m not left in an icy deluge scrubbing away instead. Reaching blindly for the taps through a fresh plume of steam, I miss the mark and hit a solid, hard surface instead. A quick feel around reveals abs and a chest. Not bare, but I can work with that.
A smile quirks the corners of my lips as I tilt my head back, hoping for one of those kisses that floored me before—literally.
“You can’t join me if you’re clothed.” I pluck at his shirt. The damp material pulls away from his body and springs back with a wet slapping sound when I let go. “Though I’m a bit sore after two rounds so fast, Mister bodyguard.”
“I don’t remember you having nicknames for me.” The deep voice so close to me is one I recognize.
But it’s not Drake’s.
“Major.” My eyes fly open. “What are you—” I back up a step, straight into the shower wall.Mistake.
Major Barret crowds the space with his bulk that looks twice as big as he did when he was my security detail. Heat that has nothing to do with the shower creeps up my body from my legs to my neck, my skin prickling.
You left. You can’t be here. You aren’t?—
The letters.
But Drake said you were his friend. Visiting?
He’s in your space. You’re freaking naked.
There’s a connection.
It’s you.
Don’t let it be him.
But it is.
My mind gets it, even as I’m still trying to find a logical reason for my ex-lover and bodyguard to be in Drake’s house, standing here with me while I’m showering. Naked.
Unprotected.
