Chapter Seven
Luna
“Girl, you slayed! From the videos I saw online, that crowd was feral,” Anastasia practically shouted through my phone.
“Yeah, well, my wrist may never recover. Do authors get workers’ comp for autograph-related injuries?”
She laughed. “Price of fame, babe. Now, let’s talk about the real headline, your bodyguard.”
I groaned and glanced at the hotel door to make sure it was shut. “Do we have to?”
“Do all the guys at Lone Star Security look like that? Because if so, I need to know where to submit my résumé.”
“They’re professionals, Ana. Their job isn’t to… look good.”
“Oh, so you do think he looks good.” Her tone was all smug satisfaction. “Perfect, because the internet agrees. He’s on every book influencer’s page, and it’s only been a few hours. #BookBoyfriendInTheFlesh is trending.”
I flopped onto the bed and groaned into a pillow. “It was a misunderstanding. There’s nothing between us.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m a virgin.” She scoffed.
“Ana!” I hissed.
“Relax! I’m not saying you have to actually sleep with the guy—though, if you did, I’d die happy and need all the details—but you might as well use the speculation. This is the best organic marketing you could ask for. Your cowboy bodyguard series will fly off the shelves.”
I glanced at the adjoining door. “What should I tell Hayes?”
“He already gives off the broody, mysterious vibe. The public is eating it up. He doesn’t need to change a thing. He’s basically a walking book ad.”
I sighed. “Fine. We’ll lean into the mystery.”
“In public,” she said, her tone dripping with mischief. “Whatever happens at the hotel, though, that’s your business.”
I hung up before she could cackle again, but her laughter still echoed in my ear.
The idea of Hayes and me together refused to leave me as I lay in bed.
I couldn’t sleep, and I was horny as hell.
This was the perfect mood to be in to write a sex scene.
Usually, I’d need to get off after. That would be a little tricky, given the shared wall between me and the reason my panties were damp.
The word Darling floated through my mind, and my inner walls clenched around nothing. I grabbed my laptop and let my fingers fly over the keys.
The bodyguard, Bruiser, happened to see what the romance writer, Scarlet, had on her screen while she was writing a love scene:
“Am I your character inspiration for that book?” He cocked his head, daring her to deny it.
He was close enough that his masculine and clean smell was impossible to ignore. It was intoxicating.
She nodded.
“Maybe I can give you some details on how he would make her scream his name.”
Her nipples pebbled under her top at his proximity, and his deep tone sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes darted down, noticing that the bulge in the front of his sweats had grown. She nodded.
“Personally, I like to be the one in charge. Would you like that? If I manhandled you a little?” His body was closer every time she blinked, or maybe she was just constructing fantasies again. Part of her wanted to retreat, but only to see him give chase.
What would it feel like to be pursued by her own bodyguard?
“What-what would that look like?” She could feel her long, silky hair starting to stick to the back of her neck.
He considered that for a moment. “Maybe throw her over his shoulder. Toss her on the bed. Pin her against the wall. Tease her until she begs for it.”
I set my laptop to the side and swallowed hard. My clit throbbed. Picturing straitlaced Hayes saying all those dirty things to me, let alone acting them out, was too much for my hormones to handle.
I didn’t pack my vibrator.
With my luck, it would turn on going through security, and the whole airport would see.
So all I had were my fingers and my imagination.
I slid my sleep shorts down far enough to spread my legs before diving in.
The first touch of the pad of my finger to my aching clit had my back arching off the bed.
I circled it fast. I had been mentally edging myself since I sat down and started putting words on the page.
Heat and pressure built in my core, faster than I thought possible, as the scene I had just written flowed through my mind.
I bit my lip to keep the little moans that threatened to escape my throat from doing just that.
It was late, or early depending on how you looked at things, but Hayes was known to appear out of nowhere.
The idea of him walking in and seeing me spread out on the bed with my hand between my thighs was enough to send me over the edge. I bucked and spasmed under my own touch, not slowing my hand until I had wrung out the last few drops of my orgasm, then I collapsed back on the bed.
******
As if I wasn’t already planning to kill Anastasia, I woke to the sound of my phone ringing and her name flashing across the screen. I didn’t even know what city we were in anymore. Fort Worth? Houston? Now I had Anastasia’s chipper voice in my ear before I’d had caffeine.
“Morning, superstar! Don’t hate me, but I might’ve arranged a little something for you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody.”
I groaned. “Define a little something.”
“Just a teensy interview outside the bookstore. An influencer and a camera, maybe a few hundred thousand livestream viewers. No big deal.”
I sat up. “Ana!”
“Oh, come on. The internet is obsessed. Seven million views and counting on that video from the signing. I’m feeding the beast. You can thank me when your royalties double.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Does Hayes know about this?”
“I’m sure you can tell him all about it on the way to the signing.”
“Wait, Ana—”
“Gotta go! Let me know how it goes. Love you.”
******
“Remind me,” Hayes said, voice low as he pulled the truck into the bookstore parking lot, “why we’re here an hour early when I am the keeper of the itinerary?”
I squared my shoulders. I had no idea how Hayes would take this whole thing. “My agent has arranged for a popular book influencer to meet us out front before the signing to ask us a few questions.”
“Like an interview?” he asked, turning his head toward me in a slow, creepy way that only horror movie characters could usually achieve.
The rumble of his voice did things to my pulse I did not appreciate. I could already see the influencer and a camera person out front. We had maybe thirty seconds before they spotted us.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” I said quickly. “They want us to lean into the whole book-boyfriend-bodyguard thing. It’ll only be a few questions. This is for social media, so it can’t be more than a few minutes.”
I hoped.
His jaw tightened, and he cursed under his breath.
“Let’s get this done,” I said, reaching for some confidence I didn’t feel. Before either of us could chicken out and have Anastasia up my ass, I grabbed my bag, opened the truck door, and hopped out.