Milo
I dread the phone call I’m about to make, and I’m jittery the entire ride up the elevator. The one in my building is scarcely decorated, so there’s nothing for me to look at besides my reflection, the lone camera in the corner of the ceiling, and Rowan.
Rowan is the most appealing of the three, which is why my eyes naturally land on him. He’s wearing a suit tonight, and I still can’t get over how good he looks.
His eyes are closed, so I have full access to study him without looking like a creep.
Is it creepy to want to look at your bodyguard? Even if it is, I can’t take my eyes off Rowan.
When he asked me about my type, I wasn’t thinking when I answered, so I was mortified that every single thing I listed matches Rowan perfectly.
Now that his focus isn’t on me, I can appreciate the irony of it all. The perfect guy lands in my lap, and I can’t have him.
It’s inappropriate, right?
Right?
This is when I need Ray here to talk some sense into me before I do something stupid, but of course, he’s with the latest of his bad ideas. I haven’t met that guy in person, but I’ve seen his pictures floating around, tagged along with scandal after scandal.
Ray might have horrible taste in men, but he knows how to keep his relationships out of the news. He can handle himself.
Me, on the other hand…
Inviting—no, practically begging—Rowan to stay the night is a terrible idea, but I hate how big and quiet the apartment is on lonely nights. I need the company, especially tonight.
Especially if I’m calling Sully.
The elevator doors open into my penthouse, and Rowan opens his eyes while mine quickly dart away so he doesn’t catch me staring.
We both shrug out of our suit jackets and hang them in the coat closet by the entrance.
Rowan then follows me into the kitchen, his presence a giant shadow that fills the empty space with a bit of warmth.
“Do you want anything to drink? I have practically every kind of sparkling water imaginable, apple juice, and diet soda. Ray keeps my fridge stocked with enough liquids to last a lifetime,” I joke.
“Just water is fine.”
“Ice?”
“Please.”
“Man with good taste,” I tease and grab two glasses for us. Even if there’s a blizzard out, my cup needs to be filled to the brim with ice, or else it’s just not right.
I give Rowan his glass of ice water and help myself to iced apple juice. The ice-cold sweetness pads my empty stomach and refreshes my mind. I chug the entire thing, then munch on one of the ice cubes.
Rowan stares at me like I’m committing murder.
“What?” I ask, and fish for another ice cube to munch on.
“If you’re hungry, order some food. You’re going to ruin your teeth,” he chides.
I shrug, already used to the ice lectures from Ray, and pull open the drawer of takeout menus. “Tonight seems like a pasta kinda of night. You good with Italian?”
He nods, and I hand him the menu to my favorite place. I indulge there as often as I can and practically have their entire menu memorized.
“We have to order the fritto misto app to share, and I guess a Caesar salad, so Ray doesn’t nag at me if he finds out I didn’t have my greens for the day.
As for the main…I think I’m feeling the spaghetti e polpette.
Nothing beats the comfort of meatballs. Or maybe the carbonara with some grilled chicken.
Oh, nope, meatballs. Definitely meatballs.
But carbonara does sound good right now… ”
“Why not get both?”
I turn to Rowan and give him my best look of aghast. “I can’t possibly finish both!”
“Then you’ll have leftovers for tomorrow,” he says easily.
“Oh, you poor, sweet summer child!” I remark with a hand covering my mouth. “That’s not how cheat days work. I already have to spend hours at the gym tomorrow to work off tonight’s meal; I can’t possibly have two cheat days in a row.”
“Then you can toss it—”
“Don’t you finish that sentence, Rowan Rangecroft!” I put a finger up to stop him. “No mention of food waste is permitted in this household!”
His eyes crinkle with a smile, and I know he’s not taking my zero-waste policy seriously. People don’t know how to value food these days, but I’ll forgive him just ’cause he’s pretty.
“Fine, then you get the meatballs, I’ll get the carbonara, and we’ll share.”
“Like family style?” I ask, looking at him dazedly. It’s not a novel idea, but I’m touched anyway. I rarely have anyone to share food with. Ray is the type to order what he likes and allows me a single bite if I bug him enough.
“Do you even like either of those dishes?”
“They’re edible,” he replies with a shrug.
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. The last thing I want is to force the man to eat something he hates just for me.
Rowan is unbothered and picks up his phone to place the order.
“Pretty and kind,” I murmur quietly.
“Hmm?” Rowan holds the phone slightly away from his ear and faces me.
“Nothing!” I squeak out.
Before he can question me, the restaurant answers, and Rowan lists our order.
Perfect timing, too, otherwise I might have babbled more about how thoughtful Rowan is, how he’s so nice to look at, and how the man practically walked straight out of my dreams.
If I hadn’t already made a fool of myself today by, one, the entire incident with Lance, two, basically listing out all the qualities I like in a man, and it being Rowan to a tee, then telling him he walked straight out of my dreams would officially scare him away, if he doesn’t already regret working for me.
“Food will be here in forty minutes,” Rowan says when he hangs up the phone.
“Thanks for ordering.”
I grin, and he nods, and then we’re staring at each other in silence. It’s not the first time we’re spending time alone, but it’s the first time we’re surrounded by this heaviness.
Maybe I’m delusional—I’m often told I am by Ray—but the desire in the room is palpable, and it’s not only coming from me. Standing right in front of Rowan, I can see the heat burning in his eyes as he looks at me. It’s a scorching caress that draws me in.
He licks his lips, immediately catching my eye.
Maybe because they’ve just been moistened, but his lips look so soft and kissable.
It’s a funny thought, really. The man with hard muscles and stoic personality can have something so soft about him, and I desperately want to feel the juxtaposition of him.
What would it feel like to tumble into bed with him? To have all those hard muscles pressed against me while he’s kissing me with the softest part of his body?
The thought sends an involuntary shiver through me that knocks me back to reality. I’m in the kitchen with Rowan, who's standing awkwardly in front of me, like he was having the same naughty daydream as I was.
He clears his throat and breaks our stare-off to look at the floor. “I should give you some privacy to make the call.”
“Right. The call,” I repeat. The reminder is a cold splash of water that completely erases the last of my lust-filled thoughts.
“You can wash up while I make the call if you want. There are bathrobes and new toiletries in the downstairs bathroom. I’ll also call to have some clothes delivered for you. I doubt anything I have will fit.”
“There’s no need to go through all that trouble,” he tries to argue.
“You can’t just walk around naked, now can you? Not that I would mind,” I blurt out with a laugh, then instantly regret it. I definitely should not be bringing up anything regarding Rowan naked inside my house. Fantasizing about his glorious body is strictly prohibited.
“It’s really no trouble!” I quickly add. I indulge in a glance at his giant muscles. “I’ll tell them to find the biggest size they can. Well, I should go make that call now!”
I run upstairs and hide in the safety of my room before I do something I can’t take back. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, and heat pools in my stomach as Rowan tugging his shirt off in slow motion plays in my head.
I’m rock hard in my suit pants. My back slides down the closed door until I’m sitting and scrambling to free my straining erection and provide some much-needed relief.
I’m all worked up because it’s been a while since I last jacked off, much less had another person’s hand on me. Discreet hookups are difficult when your face is plastered all over the city.
It’s not my hand I’m feeling when I touch myself, though; it’s larger and more callused than mine. I tug harder than I normally do, the way I imagine Rowan would. He’s so much bigger and stronger than me that I’d be completely under his control.
My breath is heavy, and I imagine Rowan’s warmth mixing with mine, his mustache tickling me as he leans in for a kiss. It only takes another tug before I’m coming all over my hand.
The clarity that instantly washes over me has me popping up to my feet and looking down my body. I’m horrified that I just jacked off thinking about my bodyguard while he’s downstairs. Even worse, I did it in borrowed clothes.
Thankfully, most of the cum landed in my hand, but I quickly scramble out of the suit and hang it up for dry cleaning anyway.
I call the downstairs concierge to find Rowan something to wear and pick up the suit for cleaning.
Then I jump in the shower for good measure, hoping that by scrubbing my body clean, it’ll work the same for my mind.
I do not think about Rowan.
It’s a difficult task when the man is a giant in both physical form and the space he takes up inside my head, but by the time I finish the ten-step beauty routine Ray insisted I needed to start now that I’m twenty-eight, I think I’m zen enough to not freak out when I have to face Rowan again.
I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder if I look like a man who just had the most explosive orgasm he’s had in months.
It’s hard to tell when my face is shining like a disco ball from all the essence and serums Ray forces me to use. At least I won’t have to worry about another lust-filled incident with Rowan when I look like this.
It’s the silver lining, or whatever.