Don’t come thinking about your client
DON’T COME THINKING ABOUT YOUR CLIENT
Wyatt
This woman was going to be the death of me.
I did a quick check of the doors to make sure they were locked—both the main entry and the balcony door—because I was first and foremost a professional.
But I couldn’t ignore my body for long, and the second I made sure things were clear, I went straight to my room.
I didn’t have a lot of time for this, but I needed to take care of the situation below my belt if I was going to be able to face Brynn with the same impassivity I’d had since I started working for her.
A cold shower would’ve been the smarter move, but I’d already tried that several times over the last few weeks and knew it wouldn’t do a damn thing to sate the burning hunger she’d unleashed in me since the first moment we met.
Her beauty was seductive, but it was working with her—watching how her mind worked, seeing the ways she always cheered on those around her and gave them credit, the way she interacted with her fans, all of it—that turned me on more than anything else.
She was also incredibly smart, something I’d noticed she downplayed more often than not.
Undoing my belt buckle and shoving my shirt up my chest, I quickly took myself in hand, tugging up as I tipped my head back against the door and closed my eyes.
Instantly, the image of Brynn with her head tilted back and her beaded nipples tipped up out of the bubbly water popped in my head.
Her panting breaths, the not-so-subtle movement of her arm as her hand did something I couldn’t see beneath the bubbles, the way her shoulders rolled back, lifting her chest farther out of the water as she cried out my name.
A low grunt escaped as I came too fast to the memory of her sweet voice saying my name in the throes of her orgasm.
I slowed my motion as I let the pleasure linger, until a shiver zipped down my spine.
It had been a few months since I’d last had sex, but fuck, that was embarrassingly fast. So fast, I was almost disappointed I didn’t have a good excuse to keep picturing the subtle details I’d cataloged as I’d watched Brynn.
I’d stood in that doorway far too long—even after it became clear what she was doing.
Staring down, I huffed out a breath at the mess covering my stomach, glad I’d had the wherewithal to pull my shirt up.
If I changed clothes, that would be too obvious, and when I walked out of this room, I had to pretend I hadn’t watched Brynn bring herself to orgasm thinking about me.
I had to pretend she didn’t affect me at all, which couldn’t be further from the truth. No woman—especially not a client—had ever brought up such an insane mix of emotions in me.
I’d always prided myself on my professionalism.
It wasn’t like Brynn was the first beautiful celebrity I’d protected—not even close—but she was the first one I’d ever fantasized about.
She was the first one I’d ever cared about more than I should, more than was strictly professional—like whether or not she ate or got enough sleep to go at the pace she did every day.
It was unsettling to be thrown off-kilter by not only a client but a woman who was also a good thirteen years younger than I was.
I’d teased my brother, Travis, relentlessly when he started dating his daughter’s best friend who was twenty years younger than he was, and I could already imagine the ways he’d tease me back if he found out the predicament I’d landed in.
Reaching over to the box of tissues on the dresser, I grabbed several and cleaned myself up before I pulled my shirt back down and finished putting myself back to rights.
I faced the door and squared my shoulders, ready to field a bunch of questions from Brynn, or at the very least her profusely apologizing for getting caught.
She was beautiful, but she wasn’t the type to throw herself at her bodyguard.
I’d known plenty of those in my time in this profession.
Brynn impressed the hell out of me, and maybe that was why my body responded to her in a way it never had to a client.
She hadn’t been afraid to speak up in our initial meeting, and not in a way that was bossy or bitchy.
It was professional, while also making it clear she wouldn’t just sit back and take being told what to do.
I shook my head and braced for the conversation I knew was coming.
But when I opened the door, all was silent.
Her bedroom door was still closed from when I’d shut it behind me, and no light came from beneath the door.
I walked over to her door and knocked to make sure she hadn’t left the suite.
I didn’t think so because she took her safety seriously and knew not to leave without me, but I needed to be sure.
“Yeah?” Her soft, sweet voice came through without any of the hesitation I would’ve expected after what had happened not even ten minutes ago.
“Just wanted to make sure you were in there,” I called through the door.
“Yep. I’m going to sleep. Bright and early day tomorrow.”
I frowned at the door. I mean, she did have an early day, but was she really going to pretend I hadn’t seen her?
Maybe I should go with it and follow her lead. I could pretend as well as anyone. With one last glance at her door, I made my way back to my room. I wasn’t a heavy sleeper, but I still slept with the door open to make sure I could hear if anything was amiss.
But as it turned out, I didn’t need the door open because I barely slept a wink, my mind swirling with different variations of what had happened, only with a different ending—one where she came on my cock instead of on her hand and I came inside her instead of on my stomach.
I was already dressed and sitting at the table in the dining room of the suite with coffee and trays of breakfast food laid out when Brynn walked out wearing what looked like men’s boxers and an oversized Paramore T-shirt.
Her reddish brown hair cascaded down her back in that messy bedhead way that somehow on her still looked sexy.
At that particular thought, I glanced down at the newspaper in front of me, keeping my body still, so she wouldn’t look over here and catch a glimpse of the bulge in my jeans.
I was used to wearing suits on the job—something Raf had always stipulated.
But Brynn had made it clear she wanted me to dress casual, and after discussing it with Raf, we agreed that in this case the client would get what they wanted.
She covered her mouth as she yawned and then mumbled, “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
She grabbed a croissant and tore off a chunk before shoving it into her mouth.
I’d expected her to sleep in silk negligees and only eat fruit for breakfast, but had been pleasantly surprised when I found out she was a sucker for carbs in the morning.
She set the croissant on her plate and reached for a waffle.
“Want some coffee?” I asked.
My chest tightened when she gave me a soft grateful smile. “That would be great. Thanks.”
I poured her a cup, passing her the cream and sugar and wondering when this woman would prove that she was like all the other celebrities I’d protected—not that they were all superficial, shallow socialites, but most were.
She took a sip of her coffee after she’d doctored it with plenty of sugar and a splash of cream, and I watched with fascination as she closed her eyes, hummed low in her throat, and sagged back in her chair. “God, that’s good.”
I imagined her saying that about something else entirely and then immediately forced myself to look back at the newspaper.
“Should we go over the agenda for today?” she asked.
Clearly she wasn’t going to bring up what happened last night, and while it was tempting to follow her lead, I also needed to clear the air so we could maintain professionalism. “Actually, I wanted to talk about last night.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, but she maintained eye contact, and my respect for her grew.
“I’m sorry for not closing the door,” she said.
I heard what she didn’t say. She wasn’t sorry for masturbating. She wasn’t sorry for coming with my name on her lush, pink lips. She didn’t say it like a come-on, but it affected me like one.
I kept my expression neutral even as my pants grew uncomfortably tight.
“I wanted to make it clear that I am here for your protection, but that’s all.
” This wasn’t the first time I’d had to tell a female client I wouldn’t cross the professional boundaries in place.
My brother and I had been getting in trouble with girls our whole lives.
Everyone had told us we were too good-looking for our own good.
But I would never cross that line at work. I’d never risk losing my place with Raf’s company. He’d given me purpose after I’d left the military, and I respected him and the business he’d built way too much to break his rules.
No client was worth that risk. Not even one as beautiful and unique as Brynn.
“I understand,” she replied. “And I respect your role as my bodyguard. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Remorse coated her words and filled her eyes.
But again, I caught what she didn’t apologize for.
Clearing my throat, I nodded once, and then went over the security plans for today. I’d made myself clear, and she seemed to respect that, even if it was clear she wasn’t sorry for her actions.
I was confident this wouldn’t be an issue in the future.