Prologue
PROLOGUE
Stone
Some men are just hot.
The kind of hot that’s hard to look away from. The kind that stops you in your tracks.
That makes your mouth water.
That’s so damn hard to resist.
Like, say, off the top of my head, the man next to me when my concerts end. The man waiting to walk me offstage. The man by my side nearly every day.
I swear someone is trying to test me by putting him next to me.
Oh, wait.
That’d be me, since I hired him.
So it’s a damn good thing I’m the king of resistance. I can stay strong in the face of plenty of life’s temptations, and I frequently do.
When a man is hands-off, you keep your damn hands off him.
Case closed.
Eyes though? That’s a whole other story.
It’s too damn hard not to check the man out or steal furtive glances at him. Or maybe not-so-furtive glances.
Fine, fine. Some of my stares are shameless.
But I’m not the only one enjoying the view.
The whole freaking internet is.
Hell, I’ve seen the pics the paps snap of us. Shots of him walking next to me on the streets of Manhattan, Paris, London, and Madrid. Images of the guy standing by a limo as I step out of it. Cell phone shots of us in airports, heading past security.
Because that’s how it goes when your bodyguard is a stone-cold fucking fox.
But like I said, he’s off-limits.
Because of the job.
And also because of, ya know, the fact that I don’t think he’s into that. Into dudes.
So I keep things fun.
Light. Breezy.
We shoot the shit. I give him a hard time because it’s fun AF to wind him up. But I never cross the line, even in my fantasies, since what’s the point? The world is full of beautiful men and women, and I don’t need to salivate over someone who’s not rolling the bedroom dice the same way I am.
Until the night I discover I’m wrong.
And I learn he’s so into all the things I’m down for.
Every. Last. One.
That’s when I have to learn a whole new meaning of the word “resist.”
Only, I’m not so sure I can.