Chapter Ten
Luke
I drove home from dropping off Aurelia, my stomach wound into sharp knots like tangled barbed wire.
It’s been a frustrating week. Despite her gym work, she doesn’t have a clue about how to defend herself, and the self-defense lessons are an essential part of keeping her safe. But it’s been fucking torture having to be so close to her.
First there’s the physical part of it. My hands on the soft, smooth skin of her arms, or the curve of her waist. The smell of her perfume.
The glow of her skin when she gets warm, and the attractive flush in her cheeks.
The gleam in her green eyes when I push her to the point where she steps up her game.
But it’s also just being in her presence.
I love how feisty she is, how spirited. I adore how she teases me, even though it makes my job ten times more difficult.
I feel a strong surge of protectiveness every time I think of Dom grabbing her wrist, and his statement that he didn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want done.
Mostly. I want to ask her what he meant by that, but I daren’t.
Because if she tells me he did something to her in the bedroom that she didn’t want done, I’ll have to go to his office and kill the motherfucker.
I’m developing a serious crush on her, and that is bad, bad news.
I can’t protect her if I’m constantly daydreaming about pressing my nose into her hair to smell her perfume or kissing her neck.
I’m not a bouncer at a bar, or a security guard standing outside a jewelry shop.
Her life could well be in danger, and Marcus has entrusted me with her safety.
I have to remain professional, for both our sakes, because if I slip up, it could have disastrous consequences, and I’d never recover from that.
So when I arrive at my apartment, I resolve to put her out of my mind. I order a pizza, crack open a beer, open the sliding doors onto the tiny balcony to let in some fresh air, and then settle down on the sofa to watch the rugby.
My concentration is shot though, because all I can think about is how her date’s going.
I imagine her meeting Ivan and going into the bar with him.
She’ll have a glass of champagne, because that’s her favorite drink, and they’ll sit and chat, growing more intimate as the evening moves on.
They’ll start by discussing favorite movies and songs, and she’ll flirt the way she does, teasing him, maybe touching his arm, and he’ll respond, because how could he not?
As the clock ticks by, and I have a second beer, then a whisky or two, because why the hell not, my vision starts to blur, and I stop seeing the passes and tries on the TV.
Instead, I wonder what will happen as the evening draws to an end.
Will he ask her back to his place? Of course he will.
Despite the fact that he only looks twelve years old, he’s going to want to get into her knickers, because he’s a man and she’s gorgeous, and he’d be mad to pass up on a chance like that.
And what will she say? She’s been single for a while.
No doubt she wants to get back at Dom. And yes, I’m aware she wants to piss me off, too, because I’m trying to keep her at arm’s length.
Fuck, she’s going to say yes. Why wouldn’t she?
I know without having to ask that she likes sex.
The way she joked about it told me that—asking me how I have sex because I presumably squash the girl, and that it must be easier from behind…
I slide down on the sofa, only half-conscious that the rugby has ended and there’s now a banal soap opera on, scowling as I think that I’ll never discover what it’s like to have sex with Aurelia Ashford.
I could. I’m convinced of it. One morning, while we’re doing self-defense and my arms are wrapped around her, I could bend my head and touch my lips to her shoulder, or pull her back against me, turn her in my arms, and crush my lips to hers.
She’d rise up onto her tiptoes and kiss me back, thrusting her tongue into my mouth as she lifts up onto her tiptoes and throws her arms around my neck.
I imagine her soft body pressed up against mine, and how her breasts would feel in my hands, heavy in my palms. How she’d moan when I brushed her nipples. How she’d sigh as I kissed down her body.
How she’d taste.
Fuck.
With a growl, I get up off the sofa and stalk through to my bedroom.
I go into the en suite and turn on the shower, grab a handful of my tee at the back of my head and yank it off, then strip off my shorts.
I should turn the water to cold, but I’m too far gone for that.
Instead, I go into the cubicle and let the hot water soak my hair and run over my body for a moment, my chest heaving as I think about Aurelia joining me, and how pale her skin would look against mine, how small and vulnerable she’d feel in my arms. How her breasts are probably covered in freckles.
Then, because it’s not going to go away until I do something about it, I close my hand around my erection and start giving long, slow strokes.
I haven’t done this for a while. I’ve been too tired at night, and in the morning, I’m in too much of a rush to be at her place by six a.m. Also, although it alleviates the ache, it doesn’t always make me feel good mentally.
That’s tied up with Penny and our past, a huge hurdle I’m nowhere close to overcoming, so I try to avoid doing it, and instead burn off any sexual energy that builds up by going for a run, like a randy dog.
But tonight that won’t work, because thinking about Aurelia naked has made me hot and bothered, and the urge to come is a physical need.
So I stroke myself until I’m close, then stop for a bit before starting again, edging myself because I know it’ll feel stronger when it does eventually happen, and maybe that’ll get rid of this ache inside me.
Afterward, I won’t let myself imagine her like this again, naked and willing in my arms. But right now it’s the only thing I can think of, and so I imagine lifting her and pressing her back against the tiles, and feeling those strong thighs of hers wrapping around my waist. I picture pressing the tip of my erection against her entrance and feeling her part for me.
And then I imagine sinking into her, and her closing around me, welcoming me in.
She’d be tight, because I’m not a small guy, and it would feel like bliss…
My hand moves faster, and this time I let the climax sweep over me, and I lean on the tiles and groan as I come, the intense feeling so exquisite that it makes me gasp. Ah, fuck…
I stay there for a minute, waiting for my chest to stop heaving, fighting against the black mood I can feel descending on me at the thought that I gave in.
I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have thought about Aurelia in that way.
I should have had more willpower, and burned the energy off with a run.
Exhausted, I turn off the shower, dry myself, and throw on a clean tee and boxers. It’s close to ten p.m. now. I go back into the living room, close and lock the doors, turn off the TV and take the pizza box and beer bottles into the kitchen, then pick up my phone and return to the bedroom.
I pull back the duvet and get into bed, and lie there and stare at the ceiling.
After ten minutes of fighting with myself, I eventually pick up the phone and dial the office number. Kai answers after a couple of rings. “Hello?”
“It’s Luke,” I say curtly. “I was just wondering whether Stacy’s checked in.
” My heart thunders. I’m Aurelia’s principal CPO, so Kai won’t think it’s weird for me to find out how the evening went.
He won’t know that I’m more concerned about where Aurelia ended up than whether Stacy encountered any threats.
“Yep,” Kai says. “They left the bar just before nine-thirty, actually.”
“Oh?” I attempt a nonchalant tone. “Did they go to a nightclub or something?”
“No, they went back to his place, apparently. Aurelia dismissed Stacy and sent her home. She said she’d catch an Uber later.”
Despite the fact that the stalker hacked into Dom’s photos and sent one of them to Aurelia, we’re still officially at an amber level of protection because he hasn’t directly threatened her yet.
That means that the evening officer’s job is to accompany the principal to and from public places, but once Aurelia officially ends the night, the officer can go home.
Stacy hasn’t broken any rules, but it still annoys me that she left Aurelia in an unusual setting.
I’m not annoyed because Aurelia is spending the night at Ivan’s place. Because they’re probably having sex right now. Because he’s the one who’s going to be able to touch her, to slide inside her. I’m not annoyed about that at all.
“Copy that,” I say, and I end the call.
I throw the phone across the room, and listen to it meet the bathroom door with a loud crash. Then I cover my face with a pillow and yell into it.
She went with him because I refused to give in to her flirting. I practically pushed her into his arms. I only have myself to blame.
It’s good. It means I can finally put her out of my mind now and get on with doing my job.
I turn onto my side and look at the moon that’s visible through the crack in the curtains. I should quit. Get a job as a security officer at night in an office building. My heart is heavy, and I feel miserable and lonely.
It’s only what you deserve, I tell myself fiercely, and I make myself close my eyes.
It’s a long time, though, before I finally fall asleep.
*
On Monday morning, I’m sitting in the lobby when the elevator doors open and Aurelia comes out.
“Morning, ma’am,” I say, getting to my feet. We’re both wearing our gym clothes, and I nod as she gestures toward the doors, and I follow her over there.