Page 110 of South Beach Bodyguards

Gladly. I pulled her in to my arms and gave her a firm embrace, indulging in a sniff of her hair, her skin, her perfume. Her full breasts pressed against my chest and I wanted to turn, push her against the wall, slide aside her bodysuit, and make her mine. I’d take the hug for now. She broke the embrace and glanced backward at the stage.

The crowd was screaming their approval.

“Almost over,” she said. Then she frowned when she realized the stagehand was still standing next to us.

“Get out of here,” I told him, voice firm, grin on my face.

My talent is sounding and looking like I’m calm, I’m cool, I’m charming. But you know, don’t fucking mess with me. The guy caught on to my real message and took off fast, walking down the steps to retreat into the interior hallway of the venue.

“Thanks,” she said. “He was a little persistent.”

I almost asked her why Max hadn’t taught her how to knee an obnoxious guy in the nuts, but the last thing in the world I wanted to do was bring up my asshole of a brother. He was already an invisible audience, a palpable wedge between us. “If you want, I can go kick his ass.”

She laughed and it was a sound that made my gut tighten. I had thought it would go away—this deep grinding need for her. But my adolescent desire had given way to something even more elemental, almost overpowering. I was in trouble. Or heaven, really. I was on more solid ground at twenty-five than I had been at fifteen, more confident. I knew myself. But I also knew Miranda still saw me as the little brother and I hated that.

“No ass kicking necessary.” She touched my arm. “I have to go, but let’s talk. I want to catch up and I want to ask you something.”

Anything. She could ask me to walk naked over the causeway and I wouldn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

“I was planning to call you tomorrow actually.”

Interesting. I couldn’t imagine what she would want to talk about other than Max and I didn’t want to talk about his dumb ass.

Lola came rushing off stage, her outfit identical to Miranda’s. She tore off her mic and shook back her hair.

“That’s my cue,” Miranda said. “Gotta go.” She gave me a wave and took the coat and sunglasses an assistant handed to her.

Lola had a personal bodyguard, and he was already whisking her down the steps that led to the private underground passage to the parking garage. She would be secreted out and Miranda would pretend to be secreted out, but just visibly enough that fans would assume she was Lola. It was a bait and switch a lot of the stars used to make an exit without paparazzi on their ass. Lola got the beefy bodyguard. Miranda got a twiggy personal assistant.

“I guess you know her?” Ryan asked, coming up behind me.

Not as well as I would like. “You could say that.”

Miranda was already ten feet away from me but I couldn’t stop staring at her. I wanted to watch her body, her hips, her ass, her waist, sashay away from me in those sky-high heels as she raised her arm and slid the sunglasses on with a brief backwards glance at me. I wanted to think for just one sexy little second that she was my woman. All mine.

I saw the guy before Miranda did, but a split second after Ryan.

Most likely because I was in a haze of hot need.

Sex makes you stupid. Wanting sex makes you a downright moron.

Ryan said, “Eleven o’clock, move,” and started stepping forward right as I saw him.

A big guy. Not muscular, but thick, beefy, with a stomach that required his belt be worn beneath it. He was moving slow and reaching for Miranda. He was kind of diving toward her, his arms flailing. It was not a graceful or professional move, but he was sweaty and determined, and looked crazy as hell. I moved, going straight for Miranda. Ryan would handle the guy.

The fat fuck collided with Miranda right as I got there, knocking her to the left, stumbling in her heels. A startled cry erupted from her mouth and I cursed my being distracted even for such a brief second. I grabbed her by the waist and swept her up into my arms before she crashed to the floor. “You okay?” I asked as I backed her away from the scene. I moved fast, wanting her away from any further danger.

Ryan had the guy on the ground and Lola’s security team had also appeared, along with two other guys who were with our firm, and a couple of Miami police officers. The response was admirable. Swift and sure from all angles. I carried Miranda down into what I knew was the dressing room area. I took her into the first room that was empty on the left.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “I have to go, follow the plan. I need to do my job!”

I held her tighter as she struggled to wiggle out of my arms. “Hey, slow down a second. I’ll take you where you’re supposed to go. I just want to know you’re okay.”

The guy didn’t appear to have a weapon so he hadn’t been a genuine threat but I was grateful for the asshole. I had Miranda in my arms for the first time ever, aside from the usual brotherly hugs. Sure, she was wiggling and distressed, but damn, those curves. So juicy, so firm, so… forbidden.

Her ass bumped my cock.

I stifled a groan.

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