Page 11 of About Last Night

“Good morning.”

She grabbed a croissant and tore off a chunk before shoving it into her mouth. I’d expected her to sleep in silk negligees and only eat fruit for breakfast, but had been pleasantly surprised when I found out she was a sucker for carbs in the morning. She set the croissant on her plate and reached for a waffle.

“Want some coffee?” I asked.

My chest tightened when she gave me a soft grateful smile. “That would be great. Thanks.”

I poured her a cup, passing her the cream and sugar and wondering when this woman would prove that she was like all the other celebrities I’d protected—not that they were all superficial, shallow socialites, but most were.

She took a sip of her coffee after she’d doctored it with plenty of sugar and a splash of cream, and I watched with fascination as she closed her eyes, hummed low in her throat, and sagged back in her chair. “God, that’s good.”

I imagined her saying that about something else entirely and then immediately forced myself to look back at the newspaper.

“Should we go over the agenda for today?” she asked.

Clearly she wasn’t going to bring up what happened last night, and while it was tempting to follow her lead, I also needed to clear the air so we could maintain professionalism. “Actually, I wanted to talk about last night.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she maintained eye contact, and my respect for her grew.

“I’m sorry for not closing the door,” she said.

I heard what she didn’t say. She wasn’t sorry for masturbating. She wasn’t sorry for coming with my name on her lush, pink lips. She didn’t say it like a come-on, but it affected me like one.

I kept my expression neutral even as my pants grew uncomfortably tight.

“I wanted to make it clear that I am here for your protection, but that’s all.” This wasn’t the first time I’d had to tell a female client I wouldn’t cross the professional boundaries in place. My brother and I had been getting in trouble with girls our whole lives. Everyone had told us we were too good-looking for our own good.

But I would never cross that line at work. I’d never risk losing my place with Raf’s company. He’d given me purpose after I’d left the military, and I respected him and the business he’d built way too much to break his rules.

No client was worth that risk. Not even one as beautiful and unique as Brynn.

“I understand,” she replied. “And I respect your role as my bodyguard. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Remorse coated her words and filled her eyes.

But again, I caught what she didn’t apologize for.

Clearing my throat, I nodded once, and then went over the security plans for today. I’d made myself clear, and she seemed to respect that, even if it was clear she wasn’t sorry for her actions.

I was confident this wouldn’t be an issue in the future.

DON’T WASTE TIME ON UNREQUITED CRUSHES

Brynn

Three Weeks Later

I waved one last time to my fans as I rushed off the stage, followed by my dancers. They went left backstage, and I went right where Wyatt stood sentry as he did during every show. My core clenched as my gaze dropped down his tall, fit body. This man had looked fine as hell in a suit, but the blue button-down and khakis he was wearing tonight were doing something dangerous to me. Every night after a show, this man tempted me like no one else ever had.

He’d laid down the law three weeks ago, and I had every intention of respecting the boundaries he put in place. But you know what they say about the road to hell… I was pretty sure I was on my way there if the dirty images my mind was creating were any indication. I hadn’t apologized for masturbating to the image of him, but I was sorry he caught me. Okay, maybe not one hundred percent sorry since the thought of him watching me had now played on an endless loop in my head whenever I was lying in bed waiting for sleep to pull me under.

I’d never masturbated in front of someone else before, and even though it hadn’t been intentional, there was something invigorating about knowing his eyes were on me while I made myself come. And now I couldn’t stop thinking about doing it again while he watched. There was something about the ultimate trust you had to give that person to not sit there and laugh at you or judge you, but to just watch you enjoying yourself. I couldn’t think of a single partner from my past I would’ve wanted to watch me, but the thought of Wyatt watching me again never failed to make me wet.

Wyatt handed me a towel which I used to wipe off the excess sweat on my forehead from my performance. He’d caught on quickly that I always headed straight to the table backstage to grab one and wipe off. I don’t know if he started holding it out to me to save us time or what, but I appreciated it more than he knew.

“Thanks,” I said, glad I had my performance as an excuse for the heat in my cheeks, so only I knew it was really from the way this man affected me.

He gave me a silent nod and then his gaze was scanning the area around us. Wyatt was always observing our surroundings. I was sure he never missed a thing, except maybe my growing—and completely unrequited—crush on him.

I dabbed at my neck with the towel and took advantage of his focus being on the things going on around us. My gaze traced the sharp edge of his jaw, memorized how his dark eyebrows arched as his brown eyes narrowed on something to our left. His mouth was set in a line, and occasionally there was a slight tic in his jaw when he was especially focused. The only real indication of his age was the fine lines around his eyes. There were no signs of gray in his hair although I had no doubt this man would be an exceptionally sexy silver fox when the day came.