Gambling on the Bodyguard (11 page)

She stroked him a couple of times, enjoying the stretch of silken flesh over steel. “Did I really do this to you?”

“Nonstop.”

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” she teased. The words escaped before realized how much they didn’t need to be said.

His eyes flashed dark, but just as quickly returned to what had become a molten shade of blue. “Tomorrow I’m going to have a hell of a kickstand problem. Tonight, I have the most beautiful, sexy woman ever to hit the Vegas strip.”

She let his pants fall to the floor. “I highly doubt that.”

He kicked the pants to the side. “Believe it. I do.”

“I believe in you.”

“Right now I’m hard to deny.” He grabbed the sides of her head, holding her gently while he laid a fierce kiss on her. All the lazy
let’s just stand here and be naked
had apparently come to an end. When he finally released her, her lips felt deliciously raw, and he was yanking sheets from the bed. The linens didn’t stand a chance against that man’s muscles, but they didn’t go far. As soon as he’d cleared enough of the bedding for the two of them to fit on the exposed portion of the bottom sheet, he turned around and hoisted her to straddle his belly while he carried her to the mattress. He managed to lower her against the cool fabric with ease, and she didn’t let him get away. He settled on top of her, his erection a prominent distraction pressed between them. “You feel that?
That’s
real.”

“I want you to look for what’s real,” she said. “When this is over, I mean. I want that for you.”

“There’s nothing else I want to find,” he said. “Just be with me tonight.”

“I thought that was my line.”

He grinned and dipped his fingers between their bodies. “You’re always so wet. I’m starting to think it’s more of a medical condition than anything for which I should take credit.”

“Trust me, it’s all you. Now could you, I don’t know,
use
it?”

He laughed and reached past her to snag a condom, then leaned to the side to roll it on. And on. And on. He was so huge, so thick, that she was practically panting by the time he’d sheathed himself. When he rolled back onto her, her legs were already apart.

He accepted the silent invitation without a word. Just sank into her.

She clutched his shoulders so tightly she left marks, and he started rocking against her, setting fire to her clit with every nudge forward. He muttered a string of profanity with which she fully agreed, then increased the depth of his strokes. Still so slow, so sensual. So deep. She felt the loss every time he left her and the unrelenting pleasure of his return. All while he kissed her neck, her breasts. Held her with strong arms. Watched her, blue eyes absolutely smoldering.

She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair. With the other, she palmed his ass, urging the pace. He made a sound that sounded a little like
nuh uh
before shifting ever so slightly to the side, taking her with him. He snagged her higher leg behind the knee and almost decimated her with the new angle. He was so deep, pumping so much heat between her thighs that it was a miracle there weren’t fire alarms going off throughout the building.

“Harder,” she muttered. She hadn’t any idea if he liked pillow talk, and at the moment didn’t much care. The pressure of him filling her body was exquisite, and despite his relatively controlled pace, she was headed full steam for a meltdown.

“Harder?”

“Yes,” she panted. “That headboard thing you were talking about?”

“Yeah.” He managed to end up on his knees without missing a thrust.

“That thing where we wouldn’t hear a knock on the door. Do that.”

He shoved a pillow under her ass. “Do that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He withdrew slow, then slammed into her. “Like that?”

“Yes.”

Rather than repeat, he just hung out. Ground against her clit. “You sure?”

“Yes.
Yes
.”

He thrust hard again. Just once. “That angle okay for you?”

“For the love of all that is holy,
yes
.”

Magic words. He finally listened. Finally wrecked her, hips pounding, the room echoing with the smack of bare skin. She was halfway gone when he lowered himself, changing the angle, adopting one that put
all
the pressure on her clit. She felt like she’d been shot out of a cannon when she came, delirious and dazed, her tightly wound body dissolving into bonelessness.

He kissed her neck, brushed her lips. Held her, still fully inside her. She might as well have been paper in the wind, for all the control she had left, but there was no mistaking his strength. His possession.

He released her leg, and she instinctively stretched, indulging for just a moment in the feel of the cool sheets against her hot skin. Then he tugged the blankets over his back and, like he had the night before, settled into her body. Into her soul. He kissed her. Made love to her. Took her for all she was worth, time and time again, like they had forever.

Like they didn’t.

It wasn’t until later, after he’d fallen asleep holding her tight in his arms, that her first tear fell.

And her heart ached, because she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Chapter Twelve

Jax woke before the sun, both arms wrapped solidly around Ellie. She slept with her head on his chest. Strands of her hair tickled his nose, and the way her fingertips curled over his lower belly made his chest ache. Her leg lay across his in quiet possession, her body laying claim to his. And his demanded to do the same.

Too much. It was too damn much. He needed to breathe. He needed air that didn’t smell sweetly of her. He needed a space that wasn’t hers and a time where he hadn’t known her body. Hadn’t known
her
. Because lying there next to her had him thinking all kinds of crazy things. Things that had no business in a two-day relationship. Scratch that…a two-day encounter. Because that’s all this was. A couple of days of sex he’d regret for all the wrong reasons. Because in two days, she’d become close to him. As close as family. And when he realized that, he realized something else. The knot of pain he’d carried so long had eased. Seeing Ellie talk about her love for the mountains had changed something in him—made him see things Gracie’s way. She and Ellie would have loved one another.

Would have
. But they never got the chance.

It wasn’t meant to be. Ellie would be gone soon. Too soon. And if there was one thing he’d learned from losing his sister, it was that he had no more capacity to mourn. He couldn’t fit what Ellie meant to him into a box, but he knew however he defined this thing they had, it had to end. The idea that he couldn’t protect her was more than a stupid supposition.

He’d proven it.

He’d failed to use protection. It didn’t get more clear-cut than that.

From somewhere on the floor, his phone buzzed on vibrate. He was almost relieved. He made every attempt not to disturb Ellie as he eased from the bed. When he found the device, the display revealed it wasn’t LVPD, as he thought, but Focker. Jax quickly stepped into the bathroom and pulled the door closed behind him before he answered. Focker wanted to see him as soon as was convenient. Leave it to Pretty Boy to think that was an appropriate reason to call at that hour. Jax dressed and paused long enough to write a note for Ellie, then he eased from the room.

And her life.

Closing the door didn’t bring the relief he thought it should. The soft lighting in the hallway wasn’t enough to ease the shadows from his mind. Or his heart. That she’d gotten in there to leave shadows to begin with tore him up all over again. He was nearly staggering by the time he hit the elevator. The hour, just past four in the morning, was about as close to quiet as Vegas ever got so he had the elevator to himself. He stood there, thinking about kissing her, until the doors slid open on his floor. He tapped out a quick text to Focker—
be there in fifteen
—and hit the shower. By the time he was dressed in his favored uniform of jeans and a tee, he felt almost human. But not right.

He’d eliminated her scent from his skin, but not her touch.

The urge to crawl back into her bed claimed him, but he kept walking toward Focker. Jax thought he’d break from the want of her, but that only fueled his fire. Whether or not she realized it, he’d let her down. He wasn’t lost in the what-ifs. He had proof. Proof that, whatever she needed, he wasn’t the man he should have been. Which meant that no matter how much he wanted to see where they could go, he wasn’t the man for her.

He’d finally climbed out of that damned dark hole in which he’d lived for so long only to find himself staring at a sheer rock face, no way around. He’d found the sun, but he wasn’t ready to move mountains. Not yet. And until he was, Ellie deserved more.

At Focker’s door, he texted to let him know he was there before he knocked. The guy had been paranoid as hell from the threats alone. Now that he’d stared down the wrong end of a gun, getting through airport security with a stick of dynamite would prove less of a challenge than getting close to him. Jax didn’t envy whoever worked his next gig.

Focker’s manager opened the door and stuck his head in the hall, looking both ways before letting in Jax. He didn’t greet him. Just waved him through.

Focker sat at a table in the suite, drinking a bottle of mineral water or whatever it was he insisted kept his face youthful and complexion clear, but it didn’t keep the worry away. He looked tired, and Jax wondered if he’d slept.

“Have a seat.” Once Jax settled into the chair across from him, he continued. “I wanted to thank you for what you did out there.”

“Just doing my job, but you’re welcome.”

“Not every man would consider that part of his job.” He pushed an envelope across the table. “This is for you. The second half of your fee per our contract, plus a bonus.”

“I appreciate it,” Jax said. “But at four in the morning?”

“I’m prepared to offer you a job, Mathis. Full time. Look in the envelope.”

Jax peeled back the flap until his eyes rested on the amount of the check. It was more than double what he was owed.

“The check is yours whether you take the job or not, but to be clear I’m offering that much a week, plus all expenses. It’s around the clock while I’m traveling, but even then you’re guaranteed ten hours a day of downtime. When I’m at home, you’ll only have to accompany me to public events. The details will be in the contract, of course.”

The number swam in front of Jax. He was stunned, and not just because Focker had managed to string together more than ten words in a sentence. A month, maybe two of the gig with Focker would pay Jax’s expenses for a year. It was a hell of an opportunity, and he couldn’t be in a better position to take it. He had nothing keeping him in Vegas, and moving out would be shutting the door on Ellie for good. He’d
have
to put her out of his mind then.

But he’d be running.

And he was done with that.

He might not be the man Ellie needed, but at least now he knew enough to try.

He stood, as did Pretty Boy. “Mr. Focker, I’m flattered by your offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I have a few things to work out here before I could commit to something of this magnitude.”

Focker frowned, but reached to shake Jax’s hand. “I understand. If you ever need a job, call me.”

“I will. And next time you’re in Vegas, feel free to look me up.”

“I’ll do it. Thank you.”

Jax nodded to Focker’s manager and left the room. Another door shut at his back. Another resounding click. Two doors closed in one predawn morning.

He stood in the hall for a long moment. Thinking about Ellie. Thinking about the note he’d left. Second thoughts burned like whiskey, but he held his ground. She deserved more.

And after the way he’d left her, he deserved whatever he got.

…

Something was off. Ellie knew it the moment she opened her eyes, before she officially realized she was alone in the bed. The warmth that had been there all night was gone. Telltale sounds from the bathroom were nil, the door open. By the time she rolled over to see Jax’s clothes were no longer strewn on the floor, she had a knot in her chest as solid as the Rockies.

You. Did. Not.

If he were gone…well, then what? Nothing. She’d be back on the plane, just like she would have been anyway. Just as he’d so eloquently pointed out before he’d spent the night effectively ruining her for any other man.

And then he’d left.

She fell back against the pillows. Something ruffled on the table beside the bed, catching her eye. She reached over and snatched the paper, knowing before she even looked that he’d just
Dear Janed
her ass. She spent a long moment looking at his handwriting, learning this new piece of him, not reading what the words read. Not wanting to.

From the moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted you. Felt like I always had. And I tried, Colorado. I tried to be who you needed, but I can’t protect you. Not even from myself. Especially not from myself.

She looked up. Blinked back more tears. She wasn’t a crier, and damn him for making her one.

You deserve more than I have to offer, and God knows if you’re pregnant, so does our child
.

Shocked, she dropped the page. Her mind raced.
If you’re pregnant
.

Shit.
They hadn’t used protection in the hallway, and she wasn’t on birth control. How had she missed that? Frantic, she scrambled for her phone and pulled up the app that tracked her cycle.
Petals
. She was right in the middle of petals. What did that mean?

What the hell had been in that punch?

She hit a few wrong links before coming up with an explanation for the flower parts clogging up her cycle.
Fertility
.

Her hands fell to her stomach.
Holy. Shit.

Stunned and shaken, she picked up Jax’s note.

I hope you’ll let me know. I hope you’ll let me support you both in the only way I can
.

Money? Was he really dismissing her with an offer to pay up? Did he really think they could create a
baby
, and he’d just walk away?

Did he really think she’d
let
him?

She picked up her phone. Pulled up his number and hovered over the delete button, but changed her mind. She switched to the picture they’d taken after she’d won the slots. Ignored the pain in her gut, because she was done. If the night before hadn’t convinced him of anything, there was no point in trying.

She dropped the phone and picked up his note. She painstakingly folded it into a paper airplane, then threw it. It glided gracefully across the room, then hit the window and plummeted.

Her and Jax in a nutshell. Couldn’t have summed it up any better than that.

She pushed her hair out of her face and climbed out of bed. Standing proved more difficult than she expected. She was sore.
Sore
, for heaven’s sake. Moments from the night before flashed, rapid fire. The gunman. Jax diving for the guy like he had nothing to lose. Yelling at him in the hallway, then the most amazing wall sex ever had by anyone. Just the thought sent need ricocheting through her. Despite the unbelievable stupidity of not using a condom and the fact that the man in question was now on her shit list, the memory made her hot. All that anger and frustration had funneled into unbelievable passion—one she’d crave pretty much forever. And the continuation in her room had been incredible. He was everything she could ever want in a lover, and now he was gone.

Gone.

And he hadn’t even sent breakfast.

She glanced at the time. Her flight left in three hours. She wondered if he knew, then decided it didn’t matter. It would take some getting used to. Even if she wasn’t pregnant, he’d be with her for a very long time. She suddenly had a very unique, if shallow, understanding on why he kept Gracie so close. It was probably less of a fear of moving on than a fear of losing her. Already Ellie worried her memories of Jax would slip away, and knowing they’d never make another one only amplified that fear. Clinging to them wouldn’t do anything but make her miserable. Miserable and needy.

God, how her body ached.

She thought of little else as she dragged herself to the shower and stood under a hot spray. The pounding water eased some of the soreness, but some of the pain went bone-deep. She lathered the soap and rubbed it against her skin, knowing his mouth had touched every inch. Knowing he’d possessed her like no man ever had. Knowing she’d cry for him like she had no one else.

And that was when the bottom fell out. Las Vegas was probably under some kind of water shortage—it usually was—but she let the water run until she was out of tears. Then she shut down the shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and applied cold washcloths to her face until she no longer looked like the spawn of the Michelin Man and the Pillsbury Doughboy, if such a thing could exist. By the time she was dressed and packed, she almost felt human. Emphasis on the
almost
.

She checked out of her room. She tried not to see the restaurant where they’d shared a table or the bar where he’d gotten all territorial over a Blue Hawaii. She astutely avoided the valet, because she knew where that had led. She averted her eyes from the reflecting pool, because it only reminded her of yet another time he’d been lodged between her thighs, that time on his shoulders so she could see the show. That the moment had been playful didn’t help. Truth be told,
just sex
would have gone down a lot better.

She was stuck on the irony of that when, on the sidewalk near the carriage-spewing fountain, she saw him. Jeans and a T-shirt, tribal tattoo peeking from the sleeve. Sunglasses hid the direction of his ice-blue gaze, but she knew it was on her. Knew he watched her as she snagged a cab. She thought about waving like she was over him. Thought harder about sending him a
fuck you
text because she wasn’t. But in the end, she just left.

And he let her go.

Long after her plane left the runway at McCarran and leveled off, en route for Denver, she finally faced the bitter truth.

What happened in Vegas didn’t stay there.

Not by a long shot.