Chapter 10
CURSED BLESSING (HOLDEN)
Faint light spills through the blinds, stabbing my eyes, and when I peel them open—
What the fuck?
I wake up with little Cleo in my arms. Her body turned to mine, her face tilted on my shoulder, breathing softly against my jaw.
A small lit apple-scented cherry bomb, and she’s still damnably soft and sexy, even when she’s knocked out with her mouth open like the heavy sleeper she is.
This was not what I planned when I settled on sharing this bed.
Hell, I just wanted to save us from back spasms.
Fucking fool, you should’ve known.
Now, here we are. Curled up like newlyweds, throbbing all over, while a hard-on for days presses against her bare thigh.
That wipes the grog from my eyes near instantly.
I’m so fucking hard it’s painful.
Still, I try to adjust, to save myself from plummeting into hell.
In the confusion of body parts and tangled sheets, my hand slides up her ass.
Shit!
Of course, it’s lushly round, begging to be mauled. A ripe peach I’ve tried to bleach from my mind.
She moans and stirs, pushing closer. Her leg nudges my erection like the invasive animal it is.
Fuck me.
Lust knifes through me, stronger than a fever, worse than any sickness I’ve had for a good, long time.
When she sighs and turns her face up to mine, I lose it.
I fucking give in to the animal need to brush my lips over hers.
Just the smallest taste.
Just a morsel because I’m only human and I can only stand so much. Her lips are full and soft under mine, and fuck, she tastes so good. I—
No.
No, goddammit, I can’t do this.
I’m up like a dart, not caring if it wakes her. This is no time to be gentle.
I sprint for the bathroom like a chicken on fire. I barely waste a second, stopping to strip off my shorts, before I step under the freezing spray.
Where the hell is my mind?
Nile and me. Principal and protector. Predator and prey.
Doesn’t matter how close she tumbles in her sleep or how hard that makes me when my senses are switched off and I’m just responding to basic physical stimuli.
I release a hard breath through clenched teeth.
It’s morning wood, probably.
I’m just a guy.
Nothing to do with her or her hot little thigh pressed into my dick like we’re human magnets.
Every man in decent health gets it, whether or not they’re sharing a bed with a gorgeous woman.
Yeah, I don’t believe this crap either.
I was sharing a bed with her, for fuck’s sake.
Groaning, I bang my head against the tiled wall and close my eyes. I let the cold spray wash over me until I can’t feel anything.
The chill makes my knees ache, and eventually my cock deflates, but vile thoughts keep chattering in my skull.
The way her ass felt under my hands.
The small, raspy noise she made.
The feast I had laid out in front of me, so easy to devour.
Damn.
I drag a hand through my hair, whispering, “We’re not going there, you idiot.”
She’s my boss’ granddaughter. Almost an extension of him.
She’s also old enough to be my kid sister, hell, practically my own daughter.
Too young to consider in my dirtiest, most depraved fantasies.
I watched her grow up. I guided her when she was a teenager.
I dealt with her at her worst, being the voice of stone-cold reason I had to be.
There’s no earthly reason I should look at her and see anything besides the little troublemaker she used to be.
Only, spending this time glued to her reminds me that she’s not a teenage brat anymore.
That’s no excuse.
I can’t afford to let my cock start calling the shots. This situation is too delicate for that, a minefield sure to blow me up the second I misstep.
Her buttery moan replays in my mind like a song. The way she moved in, drunk on pure instinct, like she wanted me to touch her, kiss her, crave her.
But she wasn’t even fucking awake.
I’m sick.
What kind of man takes advantage of a woman while she’s out? When she’s relying on him to keep her safe?
I won’t be that asshole, no.
Even if her body wants me that way, it’s up to me to say no. I have to be the older, wiser, reasonable one.
I won’t shoot our lives to shit with a preventable mistake in the heat of the moment.
Eventually, as the full horror sets in, the lust fades. No more temptation.
I can’t feel half my body when I finally switch off the water and wipe frigid drops from my face.
All I have to do is walk up and act natural.
Pretend I didn’t try to fuck her through the bed just because she woke up next to me, soft and warm and feminine.
I should’ve risked wrecking my back on that sofa instead.
Obviously, I didn’t think this one-bed thing through.
By the time I emerge from the bathroom, I’m chilled to the bone, but at least I’m dressed and halfway in my right mind. We hope.
“Holden,” she mumbles from the bed.
I tense. “Yeah? You okay?”
“I feel kinda crappy. Too much wine.” She groans and I hear the blankets rustling. “Could you get me some water?”
“Sure. Stay put.” And preferably covered up so I don’t have to see her in her pajamas. From experience, they show more than they hide, and I can’t deal with that right now.
I fetch her a bottle of ice-cold water from the fridge and return a second later.
“Here you go,” I say. Her fingers brush mine as I hand her the bottle.
She’s so sleepy as she takes it, her cinnamon hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes big and heavy. Violet-blue skies, glowing with wonder.
It almost knocks me breathless again.
The less time I spend with her, the better. Until I get my head on straight.
“Thanks,” she croaks. “You’re the best.”
Woman, I’m filth.
If she knew just half of what I was thinking ten damn minutes ago, how tempted I was to do a whole lot fucking more than kiss her, she wouldn’t want to be in the same room with me.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” I grind out. Then I turn back around and march out to the balcony.
Air. I need air.
Outside, it’s raining, just a soft morning shower sweeping in from the sea and misting the city.
The cool breeze and the earthy smell from below help clear my head.
If only they could keep Cleo Blackthorn the hell out permanently.
Keeping my distance from Cleo is harder than I thought.
I think I’d have an easier time wearing a suit made of bees.
My first instinct is to make sure she’s all right, so when I see her stumbling around the apartment looking for aspirin, I have to force myself to stay where I am, planted outside with my laptop in the sunlight.
And later, again when she’s curled up with her sketch pad, her mouth pursed as she draws, her nimble fingers moving furiously over paper.
I have a blinding urge to find out what has her so inspired.
That’s what I tell myself anyway as I watch her stop to breathe and sip from a water bottle. Soft music plays from a Bluetooth speaker next to her, and she uses her bottle like a microphone, quietly singing along to some Lana Del Rey song.
Not quietly enough.
My lips turn up. She’s just as bad a singer as when she was a kid.
I hide my smile behind another cup of coffee.
At least it saves her from compulsively checking her phone, waiting for any word from Fairfax.
I know she’s waiting on tenterhooks. It kills me to be sitting out here, pretending to work just so I can avoid her, when I know she needs me.
But I wasn’t hired strictly for moral support.
I’m the muscle, the shield who makes sure innocent fuckups don’t turn into devastating losses. The shepherd assigned to ensure the jeweled egg and Cleo stay safe.
Everything else comes second to that.
It’s not like I’ve ever had a great bedside manner anyway, Kit aside. When Charli came home in rough shape, I put my bitterness aside.
I tried like hell to raise her spirits.
Flowers, her favorite movies, lavish meals she couldn’t tolerate anymore. Toward the end, she was grateful, I think, but none of it helped.
It didn’t lift morale enough to beat the inevitable. It couldn’t work miracles.
All the kindness in the world couldn’t bridge the gulf between us, let alone save her from an early grave.
I slurp my coffee angrily, banishing the memory.
Then I rivet my eyes to my screen for the rest of the morning, working at distractions. Anything besides dwelling on the past.
Kit’s school sent me an email about dress code changes. It’s already time to think about her summer activities, too, and there’s a long list for a girl as bright and curious as her.
I spend way too long reading every option.
By the time noon hits, I’m ready to jump off this balcony, but I settle for a stretch and a walk through the condo instead.
“Productive morning?” Cleo asks when I head back inside to find her perched on that uncomfortable sofa.
“Busy one,” I lie, wondering if she caught me looking her way a hundred times. “You?”
“Just killing time. Still waiting.” She stares at her phone bleakly, then tips her head back and sighs, pointed chin facing the ceiling. “I’m kinda disappointed. I just wish he’d let us know, one way or the other. I thought he’d be more professional.”
“Damn right.” The icy silence feels more suspicious by the hour.
“He said he’d call yesterday.”
“I remember,” I say, putting my laptop on the table. “Have you been snacking?”
I gesture at the half-open bar of chocolate on the table.
“Hey, a girl has to do something when she’s waiting for a call from a boy who moves like a sloth.”
“Huh.” I snort. The words stir this weird pang of jealousy. “You know he’s more than twice your age, right?”
“I’m not seventeen anymore. You can’t tell me who I can date.” Her face breaks into a grin.
She’s joking, and it’s pathetic I didn’t know.
I level a long look at her. “I wouldn’t tell you who to date, Nile. Just saying maybe you and this Fairfax clown shouldn’t be exclusive. Better options out there for you. A lot of them.”
She laughs. “The problem is we already kinda hooked up by showing off the egg and all. So now I’m invested. And for the record, he’s in his forties, and not terrible-looking.”
I swallow a growl.
Yes, I fucking know.