Page 50 of Soul of Discretion

Nick’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. “Kind of. Some friend of Steph’s has a firm that does private corporate security. Bodyguards, gizmos, the works, and she wondered if I’d be interested.”

Simon stepped back, all thoughts of any nookie forgotten. What the ever-loving fuck?

“You mean, be a bodyguard for someone? As in, get shot, and take a bullet for them?” he exclaimed. “What kind of stupid job advice is that? Does she think you have a death wish?”

Nick looked perplexed. “No, I don’t have a death wish, you idiot. And what’s wrong with being a bodyguard? It’s no different than being a cop, really.”

Simon’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Bodyguards intentionally put themselves in harm’s way to protect a client. Being a cop, you try your best not to bloody do that.”

A slow grin formed on Nick’s face. “Are you worried about me?” he enquired softly, pulling Simon closer. “I think I like that idea.”

Simon gripped Nick’s hips as their bodies pushed together. “Anyone would be concerned,” he grumbled. He focused on Nick’s lips as they drew nearer. “And I like the idea of you being all in one piece next time I visit.”

Nick’s answer to that was a satisfied chuckle as he claimed Simon’s lips.

God, we’re never going to get out of here, Simon thought dazedly, as Nick’s tongue slid inside his mouth. And to be honest, I can live with spending today in the bedroom.

****

Two hours later, suitably debauched, ravished, and satiated, Simon got up from the bed and looked at the man lying on the sheets, completely naked, half-hard cock lying against his thigh, inviting Simon back. Nick ran a hand down his sweating chest, stopping to play with a curl of hair close to his groin. His tanned legs were spread out on the bed, hair mussed, and lips swollen, looking like an invitation Simon wanted to accept again and again. Blue eyes twinkled, seemingly delighting in Simon’s dilemma—back to bed or shower?

“God, you are one sexy Mountie,” Simon muttered as he made his valiant decision to walk away. He was sticky, sweaty, and ravenous. He needed food. “But your wiles aren’t working on me,” he called as he entered the ensuite. “Away, Satan, this man’s belly needs filling, and I don’t mean with your protein. I fancy a huge, rare, meaty steak.”

Nick laughed loudly. “There are so many innuendos there I’m not even going to try to respond.”

Laughing, Simon stepped into the shower and started the water running. As he washed himself, he called out to Nick. “I meant to ask you. Did your boss say anything more about how the case was going? Has that bastard Jeffries got what’s coming to him yet?”

There was silence and then Nick spoke resignedly. “He still maintains I acted inappropriately by, and I quote, ‘grabbing his package and asking whether it would do the job of making me scream.’ Oh, and apparently, I told him I liked it rough.” He made a gagging sound. “Hell, I wouldn’t touch the man with my ten-foot barge pole. I wish I could find a way to get him to back off. That’s about the only unknown hanging over my head right now. I don’t think I’ll be fired as such. I’m pretty sure I’ll be reinstated, but you know what?”

Simon waited, washing the shampoo out of his hair. “What?” he shouted through the sound of water in his ears.

Nick said something but he couldn’t hear it. Simon turned off the water, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist as he walked into the bedroom. “What did you say? I didn’t get it.”

Nick regarded him soberly. “I said even if I was reinstated I’m not sure whether I want to go back.”

That statement stunned Simon. He’d thought Nick was a hellfire Mountie, born to the job and staunch in his belief it was where he wanted to be. A glimmer of hope also sparked in his chest. Perhaps not having Nick as a Mountie might mean the potential for him to change careers—drastically. Like coming to the UK. “Why do you say that?”

Nick’s face darkened. “I gave five years to the Canadian Armed Forces before becoming an RCMP officer. I’ve given a lot of myself to this job and the one before that. And now all some bigoted asshole has to do is accuse me of something they know I’d never do in a million years, but still they’d punish me for it.” He sighed. “I guess I’m tired. The glitter is starting to wear off the disco ball, and it now looks tarnished from where I’m sitting. I know I’m probably overreacting, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“So what would you do?” Simon asked as he dressed, and Nick stood up to go into the bathroom. “Not the bodyguard thing, please. That’s too damn dangerous.” He stopped, knowing he had no right to ask Nick not to endanger himself if that’s what he wanted. But damn, he wanted his Mountie kept safe.

Nick shrugged as Simon watched his beautiful ass disappear in to the bathroom. “I’ll figure it out. I have some decisions to make.” The water started up. “Like decide what to do with my aunt’s house. I love it, but it costs a fortune to keep in shape. And Steph and Ben are thinking of having a baby and they want me to be the godfather. Someone needs to keep the little critter on the straight and narrow.”

Nick’s voice was drowned out by the water and Simon imagined him standing in the huge shower, water running down his muscled body. Part of him was happy Nick had options; the other part told him Nick was happy where he was and had friends, and a possible godchild to look forward to.

This was his home and Simon couldn’t pressure him to leave. That wouldn’t be fair.

As Nick hummed the theme from Indiana Jones, Simon heaved a heavy sigh and opened the envelope. The evidence of his return to England sat in his hands, and it was with a mixture of happiness he was going home, and regret that he had to leave Nick behind.

Sighing again, he picked up his phone to call Collette to tell her everything was in order.

****

The rest of the day passed swiftly, packed full of sightseeing and doing touristy things. When they got back to the hotel room around midnight, Simon was exhausted. He flopped down on the bed. “Christ, you are one helluva tour guide.” He yawned. “I didn’t know there was so much to see, and you were this damned hyperactive squirrel, making sure I got every drop of the experience out of it.”

Nick had been removing his shoes, and now he too slumped down on the bed. Both men lay on top of the covers, contemplating the ceiling. “Hyperactive squirrel? I don’t think I’ve been called that before,” Nick teased as he leaned over to lie on his elbow and stare at Simon. His blue eyes held affection and a spark of desire.

Simon groaned. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said this before to anyone, ever, but I don’t think I’m up for any hanky-panky tonight. I’m knackered.”