On Her Guard (Protecting Her Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Tell me, what’s it like?” I ask.

  “What’s what like?”

  “Tell me what it’s like being so pretty you automatically assume every man who is nice to you wants to get in your pants?”

  “I’m not assuming anything,” she protests, cutting her beautiful eyes at me.

  Dare I say, she actually looks offended.

  “I think you are.”

  Chad slips between us, nudging me back with his shoulder. “Easy, you two. Let’s go to a booth.” He shoots me a warning glare over his shoulder. “Would it kill you to play nice?”

  “I am playing nice. She—”

  “I’m what?” Sera cuts in as she slips off her stool and grabs her drinks.

  She has her hands full, her black coat and matching bag still hanging off her arm.

  Fine. For Chad’s sake, I can play nice. I step around Chad and hold out my hand, offering to take one of her drinks. Pulling her drinks closer to her chest, she tilts her head on the slightest angle and I hate that it’s so endearing. “Forgive me if I don’t trust a stranger with my drink.”

  I smirk. She’s serious. “I don’t need to drug you in order to peel that dress from your body.”

  Even in this light, I see golden rivers of honey flare in the dangerous depths of her eyes. Maybe I was wrong about her not being trouble. Maybe she’s the worst kind.

  Naomi chuckles, joining the fray. “I like your confidence, but you’re going to need more than that if you want to get between her legs.”

  First, my confidence is all I’ve ever needed to get what I want, and second, “Who says I want to get between her legs?”

  “Of course you do. Everyone who is anyone wants to fuck the daughter of—”

  “Naomi,” Sera snaps, shaking her head, warning flashing in her eyes. “We’re moving to a booth. Are you coming?”

  The daughter of who? In Vegas, it’s not uncommon to run into someone who’s related to somebody big. If I cared enough to know who it was, I’d push for it, but I don’t. She’s probably the daughter of some mid-level rockstar. There are plenty of those blowing around Vegas.

  Pursing her lips, Naomi grabs her drinks and slips from her stool. Unlike Sera, Naomi lets Chad carry one of her drinks, but I don’t point it out as I follow Sera around the spacious club. Every now and again, she glances nervously over her shoulder, until she finds us a small booth in the back corner. It’s hidden, very hidden, blocked by a large column and a line of people that extends to the bathroom. I frown. Something’s up. Either she’s underage and she shouldn’t be here, or she’s hiding from someone.

  I sure as hell don’t want to stick around to find out.

  Chapter Four

  Sera

  I wish Naomi never opened her big mouth.

  Ben sits across from me in the small booth and I can feel his dark stare on my face as he analyzes me. I know he has no clue who I am because he hasn’t come on strong or run the other way, but strangely, he no longer flirts with me. In fact, he looks for any chance to escape, only his attempts are thwarted by his friend Chad who, so obviously and so desperately, wants to bang Naomi. If you ask me, he’s trying too hard. She’s already decided she’s going home with him because he looks “safe.” It’s just a matter of when.

  While Chad talks about his experience in Amsterdam, I take the opportunity to polish off my second drink and pluck my phone out of my bag. According to the time, my movie is set to finish in an hour, and Leo will begin his hunt to save his own ass when I don’t come out of the cinema. I figure in an hour’s time, I’ll text my father and tell him the girls decided on dessert. That will buy me an extra hour or two.

  “Getting close to curfew, is it?” Ben’s voice, a deep, mellow tone that sends tingles down my spine, startles me and I slip my phone into my bag.

  “I’m a grown woman.” I smile, drawing all of my anxiety inward, hiding it from my features. “I don’t have a curfew.”

  The lines of frustration on his handsome face smooth into relief. Did he think I was underage? I mean, technically I am, but it’s not illegal for him to look at me like that. It’s not illegal for him to touch me like that either.

  “A grown woman, huh?” He pushes his half-empty glass away. “How old is that?”

  “Twenty-five,” I lie.

  Who cares? It’s not like I’ll see him again after tonight. Ben surveys me with his dark eyes, trying to find the truth to my words, and I challenge him, keeping my stare locked on his face. The more I look at him, the more I appreciate just how good-looking he is. It’s not just one feature that makes him so strikingly handsome either. Everything seems to come together beautifully—his dark eyes, long lashes, full lips, and a strong jaw. I rarely see guys that look like him around Vegas.

  “You expect me to believe you’re twenty-five?”

  A quirk at the corner of his mouth draws my attention. I wonder how his lips move in a wild, passionate kiss or how his large, strong hands will feel as he follows the curves of my body.

  He wants to sleep with me. I saw it in his face the first time we made eye contact. I’m not vain, but I recognize the sudden pause in a man’s natural expression when they look at me.

  Ben paused.

  Ben couldn’t keep his eyes on my face.

  Lust.

  “You can check my ID if you want.”

  I pray to fucking God he doesn’t. He’s pondering it, I can tell. Ben strikes me as the kind of guy that requires hard proof and strict organization. I don’t know why…maybe it’s in the way he sits, like there’s a pole in his spine. His jaw is tight and strong and his shoulders broader than the back of a bus. He’s the manliest man I’ve ever seen.

  “No. I believe you.”

  He brushes his leg against mine, sending a tidal wave of electricity through my body. I don’t know if it was intentional or accidental, but if my father were here, he’d cut Ben’s leg off for touching me. And that’s so Goddamn thrilling.

  When was the last time I felt the touch of the opposite sex, anyway? It’s been so long. What would I even do with him if I did manage to get him alone? I might dress and act like sex is my second language, but it is so far from being true. Ben, however, has this air of indifference about him. He sits in front of me, all proud and mysterious, and I don’t think there’s a woman in here that could truly blow his mind…but maybe, I’m suddenly feeling up for the challenge. I’ve already made the decision to be stupid and reckless tonight. Why not take it all the way? I’ve ditched my guard and drank two martinis. After a few shots, I should be good and ready to tackle this…this…fucking beast sitting in front of me.

  I lean forward and his eyes flick to my chest. I know the look. It’s the look of a man who is starving for physical, female attention. Judging the way his gaze runs along the edge of the hemline, two inches from my hard nipples, I’d say he hasn’t had pussy in a while. Or maybe he has and he’s just weak for another taste.

  “Do you want to do shots?” I ask, flicking my tongue over my lower lip, drawing his attention to my face instead of my chest.

  He quirks an eyebrow at me and it makes my heart race. I’m going to do some stupid shit with this man. I can feel it in my blood.

  “If I did, who’d drive you home?”

  What do you know, chivalry isn’t dead? I laugh. “I can take care of myself.”

  The last thing I need is a man dropping me off at my doorstep. He’d be hung by his ankles and drained of his blood by sunrise. No. I’ll just call James when I’m ready and he’ll do what he’s paid to do—drive.

  Ben smirks at me and a tendril of excitement wraps around my spine. “All right. Who’s going to drive me home?”

  “You’re a big boy.” I pluck the toothpick from my martini glass and put it between my lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Ditching his conversation about the biggest “bong” he’d ever seen, Chad claps a large hand on Ben’s shoulder and the hand I once thought was large practically shrinks in size.
“You can stay with me tonight, mate. I booked a suite at one of the places down the road.”

  Ben grimaces, and even that’s a gorgeous look on him. “I’d rather take my chances driving home.”

  I push myself to my feet and tug down my dress, slipping the fabric further down my thighs. Ben watches, but quickly averts his gaze, pretending the look of my bare skin doesn’t kick his heart rate up.

  Naomi slips out of the way as I shuffle out of the booth and head to the bar. I don’t expect anyone to follow, but the warm presence at my back as I slide my hands along the glass surface of the bar isn’t a surprise. I had Ben hook, line, and sinker from the moment we met.

  “What do you want to drink first?” I ask, dropping my bag to the floor and propping myself up on a stool.

  “That depends.” He leans against the bar on his elbow. “Are you drinking to have fun or to get fucked up?”

  He looks absolutely mesmerizing in the blue light of the illumined bar. Shadows pool in all of the handsome hollows of his face, the light reflecting perfectly off his short, jet black hair.

  “Both.”

  Grinning, he signals the bartender. “Set up a tab for me. To start, I want six shots of liquid cocaine, please.” Tilting his head to the side, his attention is back on me. “Hold on to your heels, Princess. Shit’s about to get wild.”

  ***

  I hiss and grunt as Ben slams me against the wall, the light switch digging into my spine. Without breaking the kiss, without withdrawing his firm, overpowering tongue from my mouth, he pulls me off the wall and turns sharply, pressing me against the smooth opposing partition in the hall of Chad’s hotel room. We’re pressed together so tightly, I’m certain there’s no visible gap between us. My head spins from all of the shots I took, but I’m hyperaware and super focused on the rough hands that roam my body…

  My eyes flutter open and I squint as the warm sun beams through a sliver in the blinds, my gaze unable to focus on anything except the dust that floats so effortlessly through the air. Groaning, I touch my throbbing forehead and roll over, slipping back into unconsciousness.

  His large hands are relentless, desperate to feel every inch of me, desperate to get me out of this dress. I gasp as the fabric gives way somewhere below my hips and Ben’s hands are right there, pushing the fabric up my thighs.

  “I want to taste you,” he groans, flicking his tongue along my bottom lip.

  He doesn’t wait for my agreement. Instead, he plunges his tongue back into my mouth, taking all the air from my lungs. He’s a good kisser. The best I’ve ever had.

  Ben doesn’t stumble in the dark. He walks confidently, as if he knows where every surface and every stand is situated. Breaking the kiss, he tosses me out of his arms and I squeal as I drop hard against the soft mattress and sink into the blankets. I barely have time to correct my position before he whips his shirt off over his head and drops his body on top of mine, catching himself on his hands either side of my head. The room is dim, but I can make out the shapes of his arms and his chest.

  Beautiful.

  Every single inch of him…

  I open my eyes for a second time, unsure how long it’s been since I last did. What the hell is going on? Where am I? I stare at the ceiling, blinking rapidly until it comes into focus. An elegant fan hangs low and spins slowly, casting a gentle breeze against my warm skin. I watch it as it turns, round and round…round and round…

  Ben makes me come twice. First on his fingers. Then his tongue. I return the favor, but he stops me with a yank on my hair before he can fill my mouth. He kisses me again and savors his own flavor, groaning into me, as if my saliva were laced with crack. It’s obvious in our movements who the most experienced one is. He knows it and I know it, but he leads me well. He puts my hands where he wants me to touch him and I try my best to do it the way he likes, using the noises he makes as a guide. Eventually, when our bodies are damp with clean sweat, he rests against the headboard and pulls me onto his naked lap. In the blink of an eye, his touch turns from desperate and rapid, to soft and sensual. I let my head loll back as he traces the curves of my naked body with his calloused hands. In them, I feel all of his power. He’s strong…so strong I’m certain he could crush my bones if he really wanted to.

  Ben lifts me, gently, and positions his protected cock at the apex of my thighs, the very tip pushing inside me. I gasp and he holds me steady by the hips, kissing me softly on the lower lip…

  Shit.

  I shoot up, gathering the knotted, black sheets around my chest. I’m wide awake, no longer dazed by the remnants of last night’s shots. I push my dark hair out of my face with one hand and turn to my left. Sure enough, there he is. The man of what I thought were my dreams…

  …turns out those weren’t dreams at all. They were memories. Of me and him.

  Holy fuck. I am in so much trouble.

  Chapter Five

  Ben

  “What the f—” I jolt awake as the bed shakes violently.

  It takes a while for my sight to clear, but when it does, I almost don’t recognize my surroundings, until I recall last night and how I got here.

  “Shit!” Sera curses, raking her fingers through her long, dark hair as she searches through the mess of pillows and blankets on the floor for her clothes.

  She clings to the bed sheet wrapped around her body, hiding it from me, like I didn’t lick every inch of it last night. I prop myself up on my elbow with a yawn, ignoring the way my stomach churns. She finds her dress first, hanging off the tall lotus lamp by the window, and she snatches it up along with her white panties. I watch in amusement. I don’t know why she’s so flustered. This was her idea. I told her no, but she begged and begged and begged. The shit she was saying was impossible to ignore. Not to mention, she put my hand between her legs when it was just us alone at the booth. I slipped my finger underneath the hemline of her panties and touched her soft, wet flesh. That was the moment my resolve went out the window. I tried to nail her right then and there. She was all over me. Her sexy mouth on mine, her teeth snagging my lower lip. I would have too—and she would have let me—if Chad hadn’t interrupted and coerced us into coming back to the suite he hired out.

  “I’m so fucked,” Sera utters under her breath as she storms into the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

  My lips quirk at her unintended implication. A few minutes later, she returns with her clothes on, her dress noticeably torn, and her handbag in her hand.

  “Where are my heels?” she asks, pulling her black coat around her and tightening the belt around her waist.

  All the make-up she was wearing last night has long since been removed and she looks just as captivating. At some point during the night, I told her she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Good to know the light of the morning hadn’t turned me into a liar.

  I shrug at her. “I told you to hold onto them.”

  Her eyes are narrow, and cold as if I’m the enemy. They flash with resentment and anger, mimicking lightning on a pitch-black night. “Shut up, Ben.”

  Raking her fingers through her hair for a fourth time, she glances around the room, seeking her shoes. I frown at the look of actual panic on her face as she opens her handbag and plucks out a black pair of flats and tosses them to the floor.

  “I take it sharing breakfast before we go our separate ways isn’t happening.”

  Slipping into her shoes, she shakes her head.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Peachy.” She marches toward the door.

  “Sera?”

  Without a glance over her shoulder, she slams the door behind her and I’m left staring at the dark, lacquered wood like an idiot. It’s safe to assume last night is something she definitely regrets. God knows why. It was her idea. I drop back against my pillow with a heavy exhale and the door is thrown open again.

  “You dirty dog!” Chad hollers, bouncing in with a cup of coffee.

  I cringe at the loudness of his vo
ice as it rings through my ears, the pain burying itself behind my eyes. I grab Sera’s pillow and pull it over my head, not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth or see his naked torso.

  “Ah, come on, Ben. Don’t be shy.”

  The mattress compresses as he climbs on and snatches the pillow. I squint up at him.

  “I’m naked under here,” I point out. “Get off the bed.”

  He shrugs and holds out the mug. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The smell of instant coffee flows into my nose and it reminds me of the shit we drank in the desert. It’s funny, this situation. A hangover is how I met Chad originally. We were both touring in the same place and one night, during my rostered week off, I had a little too much to drink. I woke up on top of a dune underneath a shitty little sail with Chad towering over me, a weak cup of coffee in his hand and a stupid ass grin on his face. Our friendship blossomed from there.

  We weren’t stationed together often. I spent most of my time at a different base, but we always got along whenever we were in the same place. He blew his knee out in an incident three months into his second deployment. The vehicle he was driving grazed a roadside bomb. I heard two others didn’t make it, but Chad did. We lost contact for a while because I was still in the military while he recovered, but I ran into him again at Sonnie’s diner years ago. After that, he moved to Vegas and never looked back.

  Propping myself up, I take the mug and swallow a large mouthful of the lukewarm liquid, trying not to be bothered by Chad’s green, wide-eyed stare.

  I frown with a swallow. “What?”

  “She did not look happy. What’d you say to get her to leave?”

  “I didn’t say anything. She woke up in a panic and ran.”

  “Maybe you’re not as handsome in the light of the morning as you are under the neons.”

  “Ha. Ha.” I feign amusement. I don’t even want to talk about it. Nothing damages your confidence quite like a girl sprinting from your room at the sight of you in the morning. “How’d your night go?”