Body Image (Body Heat Series Book 2)

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opyright
© 2016 by Madeline Parr.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodies in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email [email protected]

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

Editor: Nic

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M
ost men would think
they’d died and gone to heaven. I just want to get the hell out of here. Body Heat. It makes me a little worried to think what crazy rich people will dream up next.

But I’ve always done the job I’ve been hired to do, and this time is no different. If anything, I’m more determined than ever. I’ve got all the money anyone could want. Years of handling security for athletes, musicians, and actors have been good to me. Prestige? That’s a little harder to come by when you were never given the secret handshake used by old money in Ivy League schools, country clubs, and boardrooms. I sure as shit never learned it in the run-down apartment where I spent my childhood; the whole unit was smaller than a generous walk-in closet. Hell, I’ve spent most of my life on the wrong side of the tracks. But I learned from it. I work hard and I keep my nose clean. I’ll earn my place at the table, even if they don’t want me there.

If I need to supervise security in some smutty club as the price of admission, I’ll do it. The ringmaster of this whole circus, Nova Bennett, is my ticket to the inner circle of the ultra-rich and famous. Tech geniuses, entrepreneurs, hedge-fund managers. She knows them all. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her happy as long as it gets me access to the clientele I want.

That doesn’t mean I trust her. The woman is a piece of work. I kept an eye on my wallet, and my cock, during our initial meeting. It didn’t take a mind reader to see she was eager to get her hands on both. Keeping her satisfied and keeping her at arm’s length are two competing goals that are going to be a challenge to manage, but I’ve juggled worse.

She’s not the only one eying me up. I’ve been approached by a handful of women already, and I’ve only been on the floor thirty minutes. I clean up well and I know it. I’m a big handsome bastard in my custom-tailored suit worth every penny of the $5,000 I spent on it. The only thing I ever wore better was my dress uniform, and I moved that to the back of my closet the day I was honorably discharged.

“Boss.” A voice crackles over my earpiece. “There’s a situation near the elevators.”

“On my way.” I’m moving through the gallery with a purpose. The antics in the private viewing rooms don’t even register. My focus is laser-like.

Until I see her.

She’s seated at the bar when I hustle by, and I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her. My double-take would be funny, but nothing about this situation is funny. Caroline Bishop. I haven’t seen her in years, but I’d recognize her anywhere. The perfect heart-shaped face that kept me up so many nights. The clear blue eyes, the easy smile, and petite frame. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders in long sun-kissed waves, a change from the chin-length bob of her college days, but I’d recognize the General’s daughter anywhere.

It’s like a ghost from my past has returned to haunt me. She’s lounging at the bar without a care in the world, her hand wrapped around the stem of a martini glass while two men cajole her. More men eye her eagerly from the periphery of the room. It’s not hard to see why. She has a body made for sin, and if her skirt inches any higher, the club will break into pandemonium. I feel a stirring in my trousers and silently curse myself. I’d jacked off a few times this afternoon to help keep things under control tonight. Because if the beast I’m packing between my legs gets hard, there’s no hiding it. It always took everything I had to maintain my composure around her, and I guess nothing has changed in that department.

She ran me ragged back in the day, just like she did for every other man on her detail. The job paid pretty well, but I had to earn every last penny. Then it dawns on me: it’s not my job to watch over her anymore. If she wants to parade herself around nearly naked, let her.

Still . . . something like this would taint her father’s reputation if the media ever got hold of it. There’s no way I’m going to let that happen. Everyone who served under the General respected and admired him. Hell, we idolized him. We’d fight over the chance to jump on a grenade for him. I’m more than willing to shield him from the shrapnel his daughter could produce.

I change direction on a dime and push aside the men trying to get into her panties. I wrap my hand around her upper arm.

“Bayne?” Her eyes practically pop out of her head and her plump glossy lips hang open. I can’t help it; I imagine thrusting between those perfectly painted lips as she sucks eagerly, struggling to handle my length. Up close, she’s even more beautiful than I remember. Her skin is hot under my hand, and I can smell her perfume as I lean closer. The men vying for her attention have disappeared.

“I’ve been asked to escort you to your car,” I say.

“That’s bullshit.” She wrenches her arm from my grip and scans the room. “I want to talk to Nova.” She launches herself off the barstool and strides across the floor. A woman on a mission. I hustle after her; I need to contain this before she attracts attention. Especially Nova’s.

I swoop beside her and wrap my arm around her waist. She’s a tiny little thing, and it’s easy to lift her clear off the floor with one arm. She kicks her feet and pushes against me, but it only takes a few seconds to get her to the elevator.

The doors close quietly and I release her. She pushes against my chest with both hands, but I don’t budge.

“You bastard,” she says. “You have no right.”

“What would your father think if he knew you were in a place like this? It would destroy him. His reputation would be forever tarnished.”

She rolls her eyes and makes a crude jerkoff motion with her hand. “I’m a grown-ass woman. It’s none of his business where I am or what I’m doing. And it certainly is none of yours.” She stabs at my chest with her finger. “It’s bad enough you and your meat-head cronies chased away every male who showed any interest in me. My father used you to guard my chastity for six years. Isn’t that enough?”

I don’t answer. I take her purse and look for car keys. I don’t find any. Crap. “I’m going to see you from the premises.” The elevator dings as we reach the ground floor. “Do I need to manhandle you again, or will you behave like a lady?”

She kicks me in the shin as the doors slide open. I guess I have my answer. I toss her over my shoulder and carry her out the back door like a sack of potatoes. A sack of wriggling potatoes. I wrap my hand around the back of her thighs to hold her in place. I can smell her arousal and have to fight the urge to let my fingers trail higher.

“Put me down!”

I oblige and lean forward to set her on her feet once we’re outside. I pull my cell out and dial the cab company.

“Oh no you don’t.” She’s lightening fast. I should have remembered that. She grabs my cell and chucks it as hard as she can. It disappears into the darkness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She’s even more of a pain in the ass than I remember.

“Are
you
fucking kidding
me
? Dragging me out of there like a fucking caveman. If you can’t handle my sexuality, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“I have no problem with your sexuality. You can bang anyone you want in the privacy of your own home. But there is nothing I won’t do to keep you from going back up to that penthouse and putting yourself on display like a prime cut of meat.”

I’m proud of my little speech until I notice the anger drain from her face. I start to really worry when it’s replaced by a sly smile. We stare at each other in silence. She moves closer, trails a finger down the front of my shirt, and looks up at me with a charming smile.

“So, just how far will you go to keep me from going back up there?” she asks.

“I beg your pardon?”
Who does she think she’s messing with?

“I’m getting laid tonight if it kills me. The way I see it, that leaves you with two options.” She moves closer and stands on her tiptoes until her lips almost reach mine. She smells sweet from her fruity drink, and I want to trace her lips with my tongue and taste her. Taste her everywhere. “You either put me back on the elevator to the penthouse, or you take me back to your place.”