Page 85 of South Beach Bodyguards

Her nostrils flared. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that you can’t always get what you want?”

I shook my head and reached for her, resting my hands on her shoulders. “No. My mother always told me I could have anything I wanted.”

“She was wrong.” Olivia glanced at my arm. “You’re still bleeding.”

“I don’t care.” I bent down and kissed her earlobe, teasing my tongue into the opening.

She shivered. “Give me one reason, Wester. One reason why I should stay.”

With anyone else, I would have taken her hand and put it on my cock and said, “This.” With anyone else, it would have worked.

But not Olivia. I had the sense to know that. To stop my usual bullshit Don Juan routine and be something as close to honest as a man who had been lying to himself for years could be. I murmured in her ear, “Harry Potter. Because I’ve never discussed Harry Potter with a woman before.”

Wester was an accomplished flirt and panty dropper, and I knew that. I knew it, I kept fighting against, and yet I still kept finding myself wavering. Over and over, I tried to shove him away, and then he said something that made my vagina tingle and my heart open up like a fucking flower. I hated it. I loved it. He could have said anything else and I could have resisted, but damn it, he had to bring Harry Potter into it? That wasn’t cool.

“Being with you isn’t smart. And I’m smart.” I wanted to step away from him, but he smelled like sweat and potential sex and I was having a hard time prying myself away from that.

Then without warning he stepped back, taking the wet cloth I was clutching like a lifeline. “Then be smart. I’ll take you home now.”

Oh, damn. He was good. So good, he was bad. I dropped my hands and debated my next move. It was out of my mouth before I even realized I was going to say it. “I’m smart all the time. Today I just want to feel alive.”

There it was. I knew I should stick to my resolve and never see him again. But I could do that after he made me feel good. Being kidnapped had punched a hole into my stable world and I needed an anchor. He was it. For now. For right now. Tomorrow I could move forward and pretend none of this had ever happened.

His pale eyes took on an intensity I recognized. Lust. “I can definitely make you feel alive.”

I nodded. “I know.”

Wester took another large sip from the whiskey bottle then offered it to me. I shook my head. Then I immediately changed my mind and reached for it. The liquor burned even though I only took a small sip. “Thanks.”

“My apartment is lacking in furniture, but it is clean,” Wester said. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

That he felt the need to explain his home to me was touching. It made him, the tough guy, more vulnerable. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What has you worried then? I can see it on your face. It’s etched into your forehead.”

“I’m not usually impulsive and I’m not one to do whatever with just anyone.” I was loyal. That’s who I was. I didn’t do casual. I rarely chose to be involved with anyone. “I’m not worried so much as I feel like I don’t want to be alone. It’s never bothered me before, but after last night...after feeling so scared, I don’t want to go home and pretend that I’m okay.”

He held the bottle out to me again and I took it, gliding my hands over the smooth glass like a worry stone without bothering to sip any of the whiskey. Without a shirt, his chest and abs were on full display, those hard muscles taunting me, inviting me. Was there anything sexier than a man in dress pants with no shirt? He wore a watch below that gash, a bit of fresh blood trickling down his skin. I was flustered, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted him to hold me, to comfort me with his body. To make what had happened between us feel like a more natural memory.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” he said, closing the distance between us. “And you don’t have to be alone.”

Then Wester surprised me by pulling me into a hug. He kissed my temple, softly, like a boyfriend would, and even with the whiskey bottle between us, I could feel his warm chest. His bare arms surrounded me and I indulged myself and sank into his embrace. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply. Tears rose behind my lids, which pissed me off. Why was I suddenly tearing up every other minute? I sniffled a little, trying to get my emotions under control. “I never cry,” I whispered. “Ever.”

“You can if you want.” His fingers brushed over the back of my t-shirt, soothing. “Crying women don’t scare me.”

“Does anything scare you?”

For a brief pause he stiffened, then he said, “Losing people. That’s what scares me.”

That seemed like the most honest thing he’d ever said to me. I opened my eyes and glanced up at him, raising my lips for a kiss. “Take me away. Make me forget.”

Wester’s expression was fierce, his eyes glassy. He knew he had revealed something about himself to me and I didn’t think he had meant to. Now we were both exposed, vulnerable, and there was only one way he would react to that. I waited, lips poised to receive his kiss and he didn’t hesitate. His mouth covered mine hungrily and he plunged his tongue inside, sweeping over mine. After a hot kiss, he actually bit my bottom lip, like he had passion and energy and emotion he couldn’t contain.

The unexpected sharp sting had me catching my breath, nipples hardening instantly. I ran my free hand eagerly over his hard chest, squeezing his pectoral, gripping his flank so that I could press my thighs closer to his. Our kiss got wild, angry, desperate. A rough collision of eager lips and grasping tongues. Wet. Demanding. When he briefly pulled back, he bent down and tugged my T-shirt lower so he could suck the swell of my breast.

“Yes,” I murmured, head dipping back. “That feels good.” I shifted my leg again, wanting closer, but the whiskey bottle was still between us.

He gripped the head of the bottle, his mouth nuzzling my neck. “Let go of the whiskey. I’ve got it.”

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