Page 130 of South Beach Bodyguards

“I can’t breathe,” I murmured, pressing against the wall, my hands flying up to stave off his chest. It was too much.

“Sorry,” he said, instantly pulling back at the pressure of my push. He eased my leg off his hip until my foot settled on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked. With his free hand he lifted my top back over my bare breasts.

I was still damp and throbbing and my legs were shaky but I nodded. I wasn’t sure I was okay, exactly, but I wasn’t hurt either, and I couldn’t articulate my feelings. I could just nod.

When he shifted, disengaging himself from my body, I was further confused because I felt the loss profoundly. When he was too close, I didn’t want it, then when he pulled back, I didn’t want that either. My cheeks flushed as I grew angry with myself. I was an adult. I had agreed to this. Hell, I had asked for it. Literally.

Time to pull it together. I was a strong woman. It was up to me to break this weird aura, to make it normal again. Casual. “It’s a good thing I’m in shape,” I said. “Or you might have crippled me.”

For a brief moment I thought he was disappointed in my words, but then he flashed me a grin. “You can always lean on me more. I’ve got you.”

That’s what I was afraid of. That he would want this again and so would I. “Thanks.” I shimmied my pants back up in place, peeling myself off the wall. “I’ll be right back.” I needed to go to the bathroom because there had been zero condom used here and I could feel the result of that making its way sluggishly down my thigh.

The timing was off, but stranger things had happened. The thought that we had just conceived a child made heat crawl up my neck and settle in my cheeks and my mouth to go dry. I was ready to be a mother, but this? All of this emotion and messiness wasn’t what I had pictured.

His eyes lingered on me and his hand slid down my arm. I half expected him to stop me or follow me but he did neither. In the bathroom I took care of business then stared at myself in the mirror. I looked feverish and well fucked. Splashing water on my face, I patted my cheeks dry with my shirt. I hadn’t unpacked the towels yet. Then I ditched my heels and went back in to the living room, weaving around boxes. Alejandro was where I had left him, in the entryway. But he was zipped back up, shirt on. His phone was in his hand.

I realized he was intending to leave.

Anger and disappointment and mortification all welled up in me. “You heading out?” I asked, impressed with how light and casual I sounded.

“I’m going to get some fried chicken.”

That made me blink. “What?”

“I’m starving. Sex makes me hungry. You want anything? I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“No. I’m fine.” Then I thought about it. I didn’t have to watch my weight as carefully now that I wasn’t on tour. I could indulge just a little. “Sure. I’ll take whatever they have. I like thighs.”

“I’m a breast man myself.”

That made me laugh, despite my discomfort. “You’re a cheesy man, that’s what you are.”

“Come here.”

I wanted to protest. To tell him that if he wanted something he could come to me. But I found I wanted his touch, his comfort, more than I wanted to be defiant. “What?” I asked as I walked up to him. I felt tiny in front of him without the armor of my heels.

A wave of tenderness washed through me. I saw glimpses of the sweet boy I had known merged with the aggressive and sensual adult man. I tickled his beard with the tips of my fingers. “You need to shave.”

“You didn’t mind a few minutes ago.” He shifted out of my touch.

So he liked to tease but not be teased in return. Interesting. I smiled, enjoying some semblance of power. “Go get your chicken.”

He bent down and kissed me. It felt strange and inevitable all at the same time. “I’ll be right back.”

“I like honey mustard sauce.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sauntered to the front door and left, a sexually satisfied man.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was glad he was coming back but at the same time I was glad to have a minute to myself. I needed to find the stupid bath towels and take a shower and find my equilibrium again.

After he exited the house, I stood there in the doorway and watched him head down the walk. It was dark outside now, and after a moment of staring at his back, I shook off my reverie and went back into the house. My house. All nine hundred adorable retro square feet of it. Tomorrow I was going to go out and buy a pink lawn flamingo. The house was screaming for it.

But all of that seemed dimmed now by the enormity of what Alejandro and I had just done. My thighs rubbed together, sticky and warm, and I had both a seed of hope and a tremor of fear that we might have made a baby.

I took a deep breath and started for the shower when there was a knock on my door. Thinking it was Alejandro I opened it without thought. “Hi, did you forget something? Chicken doesn’t fry that fast.” The smile fell off my face when I realized it wasn’t him.

It was a man in his late thirties to forties, dark hair, a dark beard. He was holding a cat. But not like an animal lover. His hand was twisted in the cat’s scruff and he had him dangled in front of his body far enough to cause me instant alarm.

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