13. Monroe
13
MONROE
C ash’s eyes are locked on mine for a few endless seconds before he blinks and looks down at the bed. His broad shoulders are tense. I try not to look too long at his biceps … or the corded muscles clearly outlined under his T-shirt.
Oh shit, he’s wearing a T-shirt! He must be about to freeze to death.
The room is so damn cold. My hands are still icicles from the moped drive through the city. I set down one of the teacups on the nightstand and sip on the other one. It has a semisweet taste to it, but I know nothing about tea and couldn’t guess at the flavor. I’m hoping it’s something that will help me get some sleep.
I try not to shiver, but I can’t help it as a chill passes over my shoulders. Cash is staring at the one bed in the room, still holding up the bike. He finally moves, using the kickstand to position it against the door .
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he finally says.
I stare at him, slowly sipping on the tea again to buy myself some time before answering.
Is he just being polite?
He must be freezing his ass off. I don’t see any extra blankets.
Would it really be that terrible for him to sleep next to me?
Okay, also, why are we even in this situation?
“Um, I know it’s extremely late and you must be as exhausted as I am, but is there a reason why we are here and not at the hotel?”
He takes a step back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He exhales slowly, jaw muscles ticcing as he stares at me.
Biceps, biceps. I bet his body heat would warm me right up …
He speaks, and his words throw a bucket of cold water on the heat growing in my core. “There have been more threats recently. One was a bouquet of red roses made out to Kitten, sent to your hotel room last night. The last one was tonight, left in your dressing room during the show. It was a dead bird with a note that said, You’ve flown so high. It’ll be quite a show when they all see you fall .”
The breath in my lungs vanishes. The half-drunk teacup in my hand clatters to the floor, spilling on the cheap, thin carpet. I feel myself falling forward, the ability to control my limbs suddenly lost.
My vision blurs and grows distant. I don’t realize that my eyes are filled with tears until they start spilling down my cold cheeks. A blur of black moves toward me.
“Hey, hey. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me, where no one can find us.” Cash is kneeling in front of me, right where the tea spilled. He stopped my fall with his big frame.
He cups my face, brushing his thumb across my cheek to wipe away the tears. I still can’t see his features clearly, but I lean into his warmth, trying to chase away the cold that’s seeped deep under my skin. He must sense that what I need right now is more of him, more body heat, because he pushes up from the floor to sit next to me on the bed, tugging my head down to the crook of his shoulder. His arm wraps around my shivering body, and blissful, soothing warmth melts into my frigid frame.
His deep voice vibrates through me. “My job, my only priority, is to protect you. Whatever happened in the hallway with the crowd tonight was intentional. Every threat has been far too close to you. We’re here because I don’t know who I can trust in your circle. Tonight, you need to rest.” He exhales before his deep baritone rumbles over my skin. “I have my gun, and you have me. Listen to me.” He tilts up my chin until I look into his eyes—the emerald green that’s slowly becoming my favorite color. “You. Are. Safe. With. Me. I am not going to let anything happen to you. Do you trust me, Princess?” His rough voice dips into a whisper.
I blink, trying to stop crying, but unable to force the tears back. I nod. My eyes drift down to his lips. I’m closer than I’ve ever been to him. He smells like a cedar forest. His skin is smooth and deeply tanned with light freckles on the top of his nose. And he’s acting so gentle, so caring. His voice is softer than usual. He’s holding me so close.
I’m crushing on him so hard. I feel like I’m in junior high and first discovering what it feels like to be noticed by a boy, how it feels when he looks at me or sits next to me. And now, I’m completely dependent on him.
Cash reaches past me with his free arm to grab the other teacup. “I’m going to heat this up for you. You’re freezing.”
I sniffle, wrapping my arms around myself as he stands and takes his big, warm arms with him. Numbness begins to wash over me. The adrenaline from escaping into the night on a stolen moped, finding out my stalker has gotten freakishly close to me again , and now not knowing who the hell I can even trust—it’s taking a toll on me physically.
I need to sleep. Thankfully, tonight was the last show in Seoul. We’re supposed to fly out tomorrow and head to Tokyo for the next concert in five days. The buzz of the microwave fills the space.
Cash returns with the tea, placing the cup in my hands. Warmth spreads through my fingertips.
“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” I blurt out.
He pauses, eyes meeting mine with one brow raised.
Words tumble out of my mouth. “Um, it’s just not necessary. For one, I’m freezing to death. I won’t be able to sleep. Can I pay you extra to … to be, like, a heater for me?”
He straightens, walking over to where the thermostat on the wall is. He tries to open it and fails. There’s a little sign over it that says something in Korean, but of course, we can’t read it.
He sighs, turning back around to face me. He folds his arms across his chest. “And for two?”
I sip on the tea slowly, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. “I believe you are a professional. I feel safe with you. It could be perceived as an archaic work environment for you to be forced to sleep on the floor.”
I sound like a perverted boss hitting on an employee right now.
I continue to overexplain my point. “But, uh, of course, it’s your decision. I wouldn’t ever force someone to sleep in the same bed as me.” I lower my shaky hands to set the cup down on the nightstand before kicking off my favorite tennis shoes and finding the nerve to meet his eyes again.
Cash just stares at me. His stance is casual, but when his heated gaze dips down over my body for a moment, I can practically see the churning thoughts in his mind. I’m used to men looking at me and thinking about how much they can take, but the way he looks … it’s like he’s debating how much he can resist.
The tension between us is palpable. I can almost taste it. I lick my lips, pulling the bottom one into my mouth with my teeth.
“Stop it,” he whispers.
My breathing halts. His gaze is focused on my mouth. I don’t even know if he realizes he said that out loud. I obey, letting go of my lip. He exhales, closing his eyes briefly before pushing off the wall.
“I need to take a quick shower.” He disappears into the bathroom.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and lean back against the headboard before shutting my eyes. I always take a shower and rinse off my body before the meet and greet with fans because I get sweaty during the concert .
I stand up from the bed and move over to my duffel bag on the floor. After sifting through the contents, I find my mini travel bag for touching up my makeup and hair when I encounter unexpected cameras. The makeup remover wipes are a lifesaver, considering my aesthetician would have a conniption fit if she found out I slept in my makeup.
After scrubbing my face clean, I pull out a pair of leggings to sleep in since I definitely can’t do it in my usual birthday suit. I change into them quickly before removing my bra and pulling the hoodie back over my head, teeth chattering and nipples at attention in the ice-cold room. I climb back into the full-size bed and bury myself under the covers.
Cash is a big dude. His feet might hang off the end of this thing.
My skin is covered in goose bumps despite the thin blankets and his hoodie when I hear the bathroom door open. I figure pretending to be asleep will make it less awkward, so I shut my eyes and lie still. I hear him securing the moped against the door and checking the locks.
The light flips off, and a few seconds later, his weight shifts next to me on the bed. His arm brushes against my back for a moment, but he immediately pulls it away. I almost whimper from the cold air that instantly replaces his body heat.
I could pretend to be asleep and then move closer to him.
I debate my options, but eventually decide that I need to remain professional, even though we’re in dire circumstances. My mind begins whirling with images of my stalker following us here, breaking down the door, and snatching me right out of the bed. Who knows what this guy is capable of? He’s clearly got some kind of skills or serious resources if he was able to get into my dressing room.
Maybe Cash is onto something. Maybe there’s someone on my team who can’t be trusted.
I slowly drift off to sleep with an uneasy feeling settled in my gut.