CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CASSY
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“And that’s the tour,” Ryder says as we stand in the hallway outside Josh’s office.
“Pretty impressive,” I reply.
And by impressive, I mean, how on earth does Penny get any work done surrounded by dozens of buffed up men who walk around looking like terminators?
I almost choked on my saliva when Ryder opened the door to the gym. There were only five guys in there, but they were lifting some serious weight, their sweaty skins glistened, and the grunts were...hot as hell.
Scarlet would lose her damn mind.
“So let me guess. You’re a SEAL too,” I ask, because I’m not sure what else to talk to him about.
Plus, I’m curious.
“Nope.” Ryder leans against the doorjamb and smirks. “Try again.”
“Marine?”
Ryder shakes his head.
“Umm, I don’t know many others. Green Beret. Wait, is it green?” I bite my lip, feeling like a dork.
He laughs. “Yes, but no.”
“Okay, I give up. Tell me.” I grin.
Ryder is fun. He’s way more light-hearted than Josh, who’s grumpy as hell, even though he did a good job of teasing Scarlet.
He doesn’t do that with me. He looks annoyed most of the time. Unless he looks like he’s about to kiss me.
I don’t know what to do about that. The looks keep happening, and I’m not sure I’d be able to stop him if he tried.
I shouldn’t want him to kiss me.
But maybe I do.
All day my body burned and when we finally got in the car together, I just wanted him to touch me. He finally did, and Marshall interrupted us.
Damn you, Marshall.
Now I wish he would hurry up and return. He’s like that candy bar you know is in your bag and you’re going to enjoy later. Except this is one piece of candy I can’t have.
Josh is closed off and while I know some of it is because I’m his client, there’s more. Perhaps he thinks I’m too delicate after what Isaac did to me.
I am certainly careful who I let into my life, but I’m not so damaged that I don’t have sex.
Perhaps that is why I told him he could touch me.
Gah, I’m still dying on the inside from telling him that.
But there is something about Josh that made me do a one-eighty on having security. I still hate my loss of freedom, but that moment upstairs outside my bedroom last night created a shift.
I trust him.
I don’t trust easily.
So when I learned Ryder was going to be job sharing my protection with Josh, I wanted to say no. But that’s not how these things work. Josh cannot stay with me twenty-four seven.
And when this is over, I won’t see him again.
So I need to be open and not get dependent on him just because I’m feeling scared and vulnerable.
Anyway, I am curious about Ryder, who has permanent dimples and towers over me. He’s wearing a Black Hawke Security t-shirt which stretches across his shoulders and has a logo on it. An eagle with its wings spread against a shield. It feels powerful and slightly patriotic.
“I was a member of a unit that...let’s just call it Delta Team.” Ryder's eyes turn dark, and his jovial mood fades.
What was he going to say?
Holy shit.
I’m suddenly hit with the awareness that any of these men could kill me in less than three seconds. And know where to hide my body. They don’t and won’t, I assume, but it’s still a little overwhelming.
I smile nervously and wrap my arms around my middle.
“What did you say to her?” Josh’s voice booms and we both turn to find him striding toward us.
Half-naked.
My arms drop to my side and my mouth parts. Then I step aside so he doesn’t bowl me over.
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll leave you to it. See you on Sunday, Cassy,” Ryder says, giving Josh’s state of dress a curious look.
Josh doesn’t stop. He just walks into his office and tosses his shirt in the corner. Then he opens a cupboard, and my eyes fly open. There’s an entire wardrobe of black. From jeans to suits to what appears to be military fatigues. Even a long woolen coat.
On the shelves are multiple pairs of boots and shoes.
“Jesus. Who are you? James Bond?” I ask.
When he turns, I realize I didn’t get a good look as he stormed past because holy hell.
Josh has an eight pack.
I’m talking about gorgeous olive skin and eight goddamn ripples of muscle. It doesn’t stop there. He also has a scattering of the sexiest tattoos I’ve ever seen in my life.
I don’t even care that my mouth is gaping.
This man is a piece of art.
I hear a throaty groan and my eyes lift suddenly.
“Keep those pretty green eyes up here, Cassy. For both our sakes,” Josh says roughly.
Oh, fuck.
I swallow audibly as I clench my thighs together, but I can’t hide my arousal. It’s impossible. I’m sure he can hear my heart pounding inside my chest.
Josh holds my gaze as he buttons his shirt. It’s not doing anything to extinguish the flames of desire raging between us.
It’s almost painful.
“I’m not James Bond. He was a gentleman. I am not,” Josh says, stalking toward me.
I try to breathe as he stops in front of me, but it comes out in sharp bits. He reaches behind me, his chest brushing my cheek, and I hear the door close.
“Breathe.”
“Can’t.” I squeak.
Josh’s dark eyes sparkle in response and his lips twitch, but not enough that he smiles. God, he’s so damn handsome I think I might die.
“We need to talk about this.” Josh brushes my cheeks with the back of his hand, and I press my eyes closed momentarily.
Then I nod. Like a mute.
“I’m not going to ask if you feel this chemistry between us. I know you do.”
I nod again as his hand drops away.
“I want to fuck you, Cassy,” Josh rasps.
Oh, shit.
“Okay.”
Dammit, can’t I say something even mildly intelligent or even cohesive?
“I mean, not okay. That’s not okay. Right?”
Jesus, I should have just nodded.
His lips stretch farther, almost smiling now.
“No, it’s not okay. This can’t and won’t happen.” Josh says and I’m pretty sure neither of us believe him, but I nod. It’s just safer if I don’t talk at this point.
But apparently, I’m not in charge, because my mouth starts moving and I say, “You’re not my type, anyway.”
His brows lift. “That right?”
More fucking nodding.
It’s like I don’t have my own back, and I’m getting pissed off.
“Then I think we better end this conversation here, because if you weren’t my client, I’d lift you onto that cabinet”—my eyes dart to said cabinet as Josh leans in closer—“And part your thighs, proving just how fucking much I am your type, Cassy Cartwright.”
I begin trembling with arousal, watching his mouth and imagining Josh sliding his fingers under my panties and feeling how wet and open I am for him right now.
“But I am. Your client.”
“You are.” His voice gruff.
He’s going to kiss me.
Oh my god, Josh is going to kiss me.
I watch his eyes roam my face, stop on my lips, which I lick, and hear him curse.
Then he straightens. “Let’s get you home.”
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THAT WAS WITHOUT doubt the most awkward drive home of my life. Josh spent most of it on the phone talking about guns and stuff.
In other words, avoiding me.
Which suited me just fine. I was busy clenching my thighs and pretending I was checking my email. I’m not sure, but I think I might’ve sent a message to my color supplier to pick up my dry cleaning.
It is what it is.
I walk upstairs to change as Josh chats to the guards outside.
He’s not wrong. We need to get our chemistry under control. He has a job to do—keep me safe and alive—so I need to stop eating him up with my eyes.
Learning that Isaac has killed two people has shaken me. I should ring Dad, but there’s no point in worrying him. He’s already hired BHS, and there’s nothing more we can do.
I’m certainly not moving into my father’s home. I don’t care if Josh’s team has updated the security systems and it’s safer there. No victim wants to hole up at the scene of the original crime.
But I don’t need to be in Hollywood Hills to remember.
Sonic Rebel had their fifth album go platinum, and it was just days before the Emmys. Which meant the media was following us everywhere. I had just turned sixteen and almost overnight, their behavior changed toward me.
Dad knew their names, which was why I knew who Isaac was. At least I knew his name was Isaac and that he worked for one of the big tabloids in Los Angeles. He was good looking, more so than the others at least, polite, and never as pushy as the rest.
While cameras were shoved in my face and lewd comments shouted at me, Isaac always remained back a little and would wink at me.
Like he was on my side.
I suppose that’s why I would glance his way when things were chaotic. If we drove out of the driveway, I’d find him in the crowd of journalists, always watching me.
But otherwise I couldn’t have cared less who he was.
He wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t a boy I was interested in. Just one of the nicer journalists.
End of story.
Mom caught him smiling at me one day and placed her hand on my knee. “Cassy, keep your eyes down. Don’t complain to me tomorrow about the photos online if you are going to keep giving them content.”
I had sighed. Like any good teenager would. Then said, “Sorry. I know.”
I did know.
We’d been media trained all our lives.
God, I wish my mom was here so I could curl up on the sofa and feel her arms wrapped around me. But I’m glad she isn’t. She had to live through this once knowing her daughter’s life was in danger. I wouldn’t want to put her through it again.
I’ve always wondered if the stress contributed to her brain tumor. The doctors say it may have, but it would be impossible to tell, and I cannot take on that responsibility.
That’s hard when it was me who, in Isaac’s words, encouraged him.
The judge counters with, “A woman glancing at you does not give you the right to break into her home, kidnap her, then restrain her and demand she loves you. Among the other unspeakable things that you did to Ms. Cartwright.”
They weren’t unspeakable, though.
The entire court had heard, and the media reported it. Every single revolting and terrifying detail I was forced to relive. Over and over.
I relive it again now, as the media is running the story everywhere while the hunt for him is on.
I let out a sigh and change into some black sweatpants and a short white tank top, then head back downstairs.
Josh is closing the front door as I hit the landing.
“Would you like to join me for dinner?” I ask, not sure whether he plans to stay with his team outside or leave like he did last night.
My phone beeps but I ignore it, walk to the kitchen, and drop the device on the counter before opening the freezer. I realize I’m still waiting for Josh’s response.
“There’s no—” I find him leaning over my phone. “What?”
“Do you usually get messages from unknown numbers?” Josh asks.
My stomach drops as I let the freezer door shut and reach for my phone.
“Let me,” Josh says but I shake my head, not bothering to look up.
I know who it is before I read it.
Can’t stop thinking about how wet and hot you were for me. This time you will be mine forever. I x
I drop the phone on the counter and step away as a guttural cry escapes. My hand goes flying to my mouth as Josh grabs the device.
“Fuck.”