On Her Guard Read online

  I smile victoriously when he doesn’t follow me and I take a triumphant sip of my Coke before dumping it in the bin provided, along with my popcorn. I stuff my Skittles into my bag as I make my way along an aisle to the front of the room and out an emergency exit. As the door swings open and the bright lights of Vegas burn my retinas, I grin widely.

  Sera: one.

  Leo: zero.

  Chapter Three

  Ben

  To be honest, I don’t go out much.

  I sip at my Bourbon and Coke as three women dressed in skimpy, bright pink flamingo bikinis walk by. Unashamedly, I drag my stare all over them. I’ve been home a while, but I haven’t laid a finger on a woman. Not a single one.

  When I was stationed in the Middle East, there were women in my platoon. Some of them had families and never crossed any lines, but the other girls there needed to unwind on occasion, like the men did. It was never sordid or dirty, just a couple of adults fooling around. It was a coping mechanism to help us through the weeks as they painfully ticked by.

  Most of the women I’m seeing tonight are soft-bodied and curvaceous, unlike the female soldiers I was stationed with. Their bodies were beautiful, sure, but there’s something about a woman whose muscles and sharp edges are hidden under seemingly endless miles of soft, curvy flesh that just speaks to me. I like a damsel in distress. I like women who need my large, strong hands to open a jar or to throw them over my—

  “Ben!” I whip my head to the left, to Chad, who’s the only one in the room I recognize. “Get your ass over here!”

  He fraternizes in the middle of the club with a group of girls—young, young girls by the looks of it. I’m not picky when it comes to women. I’m attracted to all shapes, sizes, and colors, but age is definitely something I openly discriminate against. I’m thirty-two years old—turning thirty-three in a few months’ time. I don’t want a girl fresh out of high school or college. Who has time for that kind of drama at my age? The sex might be great, but I bet the conversation is terrible.

  I wave him off and sip at my drink, letting it tickle the surface of my tongue for a few long seconds before I swallow. I should go home after I finish. I’m not in the mood. I’m tired as shit and I’m uncomfortable—not to mention I’m back to job searching tomorrow. Excusing himself from the gaggle of eager, young women, Chad squeezes his way through the sweaty masses toward me.

  “You’re killing me here, Ben.” He exhales, dropping into the seat beside me.

  I laugh. “You don’t need my help to get girls.”

  “Sure, I do. I’m the funny, charismatic, skinny friend who breaks the ice, and you’re the brooding, beefy one every girl wants to blow, but they don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell, so they get with me instead.” He swallows a mouthful of beer. “There’s a balance and you’re fucking it up.”

  I roll my eyes. “Where’s David?”

  “At the slot machines. Should be back any minute with the rest of the gang. He wants to hit the strip club soon, maybe take a few girls back to the hotel.” He glances sideways at me, scratching the back of his head. “For the fellas, obviously. Not for him…since he’s gettin’ married and all.”

  I shrug. It isn’t any of my business what he does tonight—regardless of the fact it’s my cousin he’s marrying. I don’t have any stakes in their marriage, that’s for sure. I’m only here for the booze and to avoid going to the wedding. I hate weddings and the invasive questions people feel the need to ask me when I attend them. When is it your turn? Is there a special someone in your life? You’re not getting any younger, Ben. I take another gulp of my drink and swallow, clenching my teeth.

  “I might head off when I finish my drink.”

  Chad’s big, green eyes almost bug out of his skull. “Mate…” he shouts, his Australian accent coming in thick. “You can’t head off now. It’s still early. Half the clubs in Vegas haven’t even opened yet. Not to mention, you haven’t seen a single pair of tits.”

  Tits? I snort. I stopped rating the awesomeness of my night based on how many pairs of tits I saw when I was mid-way through my twenties. These days, if I can leave a club with my dignity intact and both my shoes on my feet, I’m happy. Bonus points if I can squeeze in an episode of the British Top Gear before bed.

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “You’re never in the mood.” He points a slender, nail-bitten index finger at me, gripping his cold beer at the neck with the same hand. “That’s your problem.”

  I clench my glass. Yeah, that is my problem. I can’t relate. I want to. God knows my life would be a hell of a lot easier, but I just can’t. I know I need to sort out a decent, engaging job, one that doesn’t make me want to blow my fucking head off. The rest will come after that.

  It has to.

  Hopefully, over time, I’ll be able to relax a little more. Think less. An easy way to fix my problem would be to head back out for deployment, but I can’t do that to Mom. She thought I’d done enough for this country and it was her wish that I leave the military behind me and build a life, get married, and have children. Swept up in the moment—in the grief—I promised her I would, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.

  “Ben! Chad! There you fuckers are!” David, the curly-haired atheist, approaches from the left of the bar with the rest of the guys in tow.

  I don’t know what my cousin sees in him. Perhaps, if he wasn’t so Goddamn rich, she’d be marrying someone else this weekend, someone less…like him.

  David and his friends are all dressed the same. In dark denim jeans and formal button up shirts, the sleeves rolled to their elbows, each of them cradling a drink in one hand and a girl in the other. Like a parade of douches. Surprisingly, my brother isn’t among them. It’s not like Dec to skip a party, especially that of a soon-to-be groom.

  “Look who we found,” David cheers.

  His thin smile falters when he sees me and he immediately releases the blonde, wrapped in a little black dress, from under his arm. Clearing his throat, he nudges her toward Chad and straightens out his shirt.

  The blonde slips onto Chad’s lap without protest and he stares at me in disbelief, his eyebrows at his hairline.

  “That’s Naomi,” David points out. “The others are Lydia, Chastity, Lilly, Megan, Sasha, Mia, and—”

  “Sera!” The blonde on Chad’s lap launches onto her tall, red heels without a hiccup and rushes away, leaving Chad to pout like toddler who just dropped his ice cream.

  He’s a sucker for a girl in a little black dress. When he bags one, he refers to it as his “unicorn.” God knows why. Every girl has a little black dress tucked away in the dark depths of her closet.

  It’s almost sad, watching his wildest dreams come true, only for them to jump out of his lap seconds later. Almost sad. I chuckle to myself, finding delight in his disappointment.

  In her absence, the group explodes into conversation about what to do next. The sugary giggles and rambunctious laughter is enough to put me off the rest of my drink. Fuck locking myself in a hotel room with these people. I set my drink on the arm of my chair and push myself to my feet. I don’t even know why I came here. Crowds make me anxious and the loud noises send chills down my spine. I move away from the group and none of them notice…except Chad, who dives after me like a fucking love-sick Chihuahua. If only he put this much effort in chasing his unicorn in the little black dress.

  With a shove, he slips in front of me, cutting me off. “You’re not bailing on me.”

  “I’m tired.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Take a pinger. You’ll be fine.”

  I cut my eyes at him. I’m not taking drugs, and what the hell’s a pinger?

  “There’s a fuckload of girls over there who want to have a good time and bang some sexy bachelors—”

  “So—”

  “You see the redhead?” He points over his shoulder. “With the red lipstick and the fake tits?”

  I don’t look. “What about her?”

&n
bsp; “She’s shopping for some nice blokes to…you know.”

  Chad grins, exposing his white, mostly straight teeth. I watch him, confused as he sticks two straight fingers into a circle he made with his opposing thumb and index finger.

  My lips quirk at the corners. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  He throws his hands up, like I’m the idiot. “DP, mate. D-fucking-P.”

  Sometimes, I feel like I’m friends with excitable college frat boys, not grown ass men. I’ve done my time. I took advantage of my college years and spent them wisely. Through that experience, I’ve learned what I like and what I don’t like. Sharing a woman with another man? Never again.

  “So?”

  He feigns insult. “So? Bro, that could be us.”

  It’s not the first time Chad has begged me to partake in something like this, and it’s not the first time I’ve declined him.

  Laughing, I push past him. “You’re a mess.”

  “A mess? Ben?”

  “I’m not sharing a girl with you, Chad.”

  “Why not?” he demands, pushing through the crowd beside me. “It’s not a gay thing.”

  I snort. “I’m not the sharing type.” I stop and turn toward him. “And there’s no way you could keep up with me. I’d only embarrass you.”

  Chad throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “You’d embarrass me? Bud, I might be half the size of you, but my co—”

  “What are you two talking about?” The blonde from before, Naomi, comes out of nowhere and sidles up next to Chad, wrapping her slender arms around his waist. Color me surprised. It seems she’s chosen him as her plaything for night. I wonder how he feels about that considering he just prepositioned me for a three way with a redhead.

  “Comparing dick sizes, probably.”

  I turn my head to the sexy, husky little voice that answered Naomi’s question on our behalf. I notice her dark copper eyes first, even in the dim lights of the club, and they’re striking against the glittering umber that rims both her irises. Her long, dark lashes, their curve perfectly exaggerated with the right amount of mascara, are the cherry on top of her naughty-but-nice look. The girl smirks at me, her plump lips separating enough for me to see a sliver of her white, white teeth. Something inside me tightens at the sight of her, at the sight of her mouth, and it ignites fire deep down in my dormant soul. Suddenly, staying doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

  “We were,” I state, “and I win.”

  Pink kisses her cheeks and she looks away, letting her hair fall against the side of her face, working as a curtain between us. I want to push it away.

  “Bullshit,” Chad protests, feeling the need to defend his junk. “I would out-dick you in length and girth any day.”

  I laugh. I laugh because I’ve seen Chad’s dick, and while it’s not pathetic, it’s definitely not worth bragging about.

  “Every guy believes his cock is worthy of the name Mjölnir, but they rarely come close to striking with all the might of Thor’s hammer.” The girl’s lips quirk as she opens her black coat, exposing a tight, white dress that clings to her tiny, curvaceous body and dips low between her generous bust. “Unless lightning shoots from the sky when you take your cock in your hand, or the earth trembles as thunder roars above you, no one cares what you carry between your legs.”

  Ha. I quirk an eyebrow. Creative.

  Folding her coat over her arm, she flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulders.

  “I don’t have long. Who’s ready for drinks?”

  “Actually,” Chad cuts in, “we’re leaving here to go to a strip joint or two, then probably back to our hotel.”

  The girl, who I assume is the Sera that Naomi ran after earlier, looks at me. Really looks at me, as if she didn’t pick me for a stripper-loving kind of guy. I angle my head, trying to get a read on her. The vibes she throws my way are dramatically different than the ones I was feeling before Chad mentioned strippers.

  There’s disappointment in her stare, rivaled by flares of anger, or is it jealousy? “A strip joint?” she spits, her eyes thinning. “Classy. Have fun with that.”

  Stepping forward, she snags Naomi by the elbow and pulls her away from Chad. They head for the bar without a glance over their shoulders, like they can find better men to drink with tonight. Un-fucking-likely.

  I look at Chad and the expression of confusion and longing on his mouse-like face is almost comical.

  “I guess they don’t want to go,” I say, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “No surprises there.”

  They seat themselves at the bar and Sera glances over her bare shoulder at me. Our stares lock and electricity zips over the surface of my skin, inciting goosebumps down my spine. There’s a challenge there in her gaze, and I want in on it. There’s something about her, something that says, “you can’t touch me.”

  I want to touch her.

  I want to completely ruin her for anyone else.

  Ever.

  I swallow hard and she looks away, dipping her head to hide her face behind a curtain of wavy hair. The attraction rapidly forming like a hurricane inside of me comes with a warning siren. It’s loud in my ears, deafening even, but I can’t work out why.

  “Oh, well. We still have the redhead.” Chad turns to look at her and his DP-loving redhead is too busy making out with his buddy Shaun to even notice him.

  Yeah, I’m not giving up the brunette for the redhead. Not in a million years.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growls under his breath.

  I chuckle. Chad never gets lucky. Ever. It’s not that he’s ugly or creepy, it’s just…most grown women aren’t into men who carry on like a thirteen-year-old boy drinking his first beer. Probably why he hunts for girls in the younger age bracket than his thirty-year-old self.

  “You snooze, you lose, pal.”

  “Fuck off, Ben. This is your fault.” He lifts himself onto the tips of his toes and glances around the club. “Where the hell is David?”

  I look around the club for David myself, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Half of the crew is suddenly unaccounted for. On to bigger and better clubs, I suppose. “It’s his last night as a bachelor. He’s not going to wait around for us.”

  “Well, at least we got those two chicks over there.”

  As intriguing as Sera is, and as badly as I want my body grinding against hers, I didn’t bring my A game tonight.

  “We don’t have anything,” I point out, just so we’re clear. “I’m going home.”

  “Ben,” Chad cuts me off again, this time pressing a hand to my chest. “Come on, man. I need you. Naomi is good to go, but she isn’t going to do shit with her friend hanging off her arm being a buzzkill. I need you to keep the brunette busy.”

  No fucking way. I’m not going to sit around with some girl for God knows how long just so this asshole can get laid.

  “Forget it,” I tell him, shrugging away from his hand. “I don’t babysit.”

  “I’m not asking you to. All I’m saying is, hang out here with me. I’ll buy your fucking drinks if I have to, just give me some to time to work the blonde over as quickly as I can. Then you can go home.”

  I start to decline, but stop when I look at the brunette again. Would it be so bad to get to know her? She doesn’t look like trouble, unlike her friend. Sera lifts her freshly poured martini glass to her lips and sips at the clear liquid inside. It’d be a lie if I said those lips of hers don’t slay my entire existence. Some men like tits. Others like ass. Me? I like lips.

  “Fine,” I say. “I’ll stay for a few drinks, but if you don’t get anywhere by the time I’m finished, I’m out.”

  His eyes flare with excitement. “Done!”

  I follow behind him as he all but dances his way over to the bar. I settle against the glass surface next to Sera as Chad orders himself another beer, plus a Bourbon and Coke for me.

  To impress Naomi and Sera, who sit on the tall, stainless steel stools beside us, he
orders them another round of drinks too. I eye him sideways. I hope he knows what he’s doing. I’d have checked their IDs before buying them anything. I’ve been stung before, and let me be the first to say, the taller the heels does not mean the older the woman.

  Naomi gushes over his generosity, jutting out her small chest as she gently touches his wrist. Chad revels in it, lapping up her sugar like a diabetic housewife, and Sera regards him curiously before cutting her eyes at me.

  “What, no strip club?”

  Is she giving me sass? “Nah. I’d rather hang out with you.”

  In the light of the bar, I see her better. She’s a flawless creature with a face that could grace any billboard or magazine cover. She quirks a perfectly manicured brow, but she can’t keep the bashful smile from curving her lips. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  I smile at her and color swells in her cheeks, deeper than before. I affect this girl and I like it. Sera leans closer to me, brushing her arm against mine. I’m hyperaware of her touch, her soft warm skin against mine—and that’s just her arm. Imagine how the rest of her body would feel pressed tightly against me. I drop my attention to her mouth and she licks her lower lip, making her red lipstick glisten.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ben.”

  “Ben,” she repeats, brushing something off my shoulder. “I think you’re full of shit, Ben, and before you commit to wasting your time trying to woo me, I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Not that kind of girl? I wasn’t aware I was pegging her as any kind of girl, let alone that kind of girl. In fact, her assumption pisses me off. Sera straightens her posture, smug, and the corner of my lips twitch.

  “Tell me, what’s it like?” I ask.