He laughs, and it turns into a scoff. “I’ve been out since I was a teenager. And you simply didn’t know.”
“How did I not know?” Because I can’t believe this gorgeous, smoking-hot beast of a man who I love to mess with, who I love to tease, who I have a motherfucking blast with likes dick.
He gives a shrug. “Because this is work. And because you never asked. And for the record, I don’t sleep with women. I only sleep with men.”
Those words alone are fanning the flames in me. Sleep with men. Yes, hell yes. That’s all I want with him right now.
For him to sleep with me.
But I can’t go there.
I truly can’t.
I stare down at his arm locking me in place, but I don’t want him to let go of me. I want him to cage me in, toss me on the bed, pin me under him.
My bones hum with need. My skin prickles with lust.
Still, there are more things I need to say. Things I need to tell him. “What bothered you so much? Were you bothered because you think I touched my friend in there earlier? Callum?”
He gives me a dismissive sneer. “I don’t know what you did.”
I need him to know. Need him to understand that I didn’t touch Callum. It feels vital that he’s aware I didn’t sleep with another man tonight.
I don’t know why I need to reassure him so badly. Maybe because sleeping with Jackson is literally the only thing on my mind right now.
That wild, dangerous thought has me in its clutches, and I can’t let him think I’d want him the way I do if I had been with another guy tonight.
Women are different.
He can’t compete with women.
He can absolutely compete with guys, and that’s why I need him to know there’s no competition.
That is, if he wants to compete.
Does he?
I scramble to give him the bare truth, words toppling out at Mach speed. “I didn’t touch him. He didn’t touch me. I was there for her. I was helping out a friend.”
But that doesn’t seem to sit well with Jackson. His brow knits, and his eyes narrow. “You were just helping? How noble of you. How generous.”
What. The. Hell?
With a surge of annoyance, I push his arm off me and snap, “Yeah, asshole. I was helping.”
Jackson’s eyes flash with apology. He straightens his spine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was out of line.”
“No shit it was out of line. You’ve got it all wrong. Callum is straight, and I didn’t set a hand on him, nor did I want to.”
I hate that Jackson thinks so little of me. Fuming in righteous anger, I shove a hand against his shoulder to make my point.
News flash. He doesn’t move. The man is built like a brick wall, as he should be, given his line of work.
“I was helping him.” I spit the words like bullets. “He needed a kick in the pants to see that he was in love with Ivy, and guess what? It worked. Callum is with her now. He’s my best friend in the whole damn world, and I’d do anything for him, and some men need to have things shaken up to see what’s in front of them.”
Jackson eyes me up and down for a long moment, then huffs. His tone is still laced with envy, but he’s tamped it down some. But only some. “And is that what you did? You shook things up for them?”
“Yes. That’s what I did when I touched her and only her.” I stare at him again, trying to slide the final puzzle pieces together to figure out what’s happening. The man was jealous. The man said I didn’t need a different bodyguard for my fantasies. Is he offering himself? And am I actually thinking about taking him up on it?
He works for me. That would be all kinds of wrong.
And yet it feels so enticingly right.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to sort out my dirty thoughts, to untangle them from the professional ones. “Why are you getting in my head like this?”
He scoffs, takes a long breath, then moves in closer once again. When he’s inches from me, his eyes roam over my body, possessive and hot.
They give away everything. They answer all my lingering questions.
Every last one.
Then he answers them some more as he pushes his body against mine, the full length of his arousal against my hip making me shudder.
Making me moan.
He dips his face, his mouth near my neck, so close he could brush those lips over me. He lets out a lusty breath then speaks, his words low and dirty as he gives me a filthy confession. “Your head isn’t where I’d most like to be, Stone.”
He turns away, walks down the hall, and moves toward the elevator, leaving my bones humming, my dick throbbing, and my desires cracked wide open.
4
Stone
For a few uncertain seconds, I don’t move.
I’m processing the world anew. Down is up, off is on, and the sun sets in the morning and rises in the evening.
As I reorient myself to this new world order, to this monumental shift, my eyes drift down the hallway to the sight of the man walking away.
The man who’s been in my employ for the last four months.
The man who’s been by my side through so many shows, through so many meetings, on so many flights, on so many nights.
The man I know—the man I evidently barely know.
And I can’t stop looking at him.
I’m gazing at Jackson in a whole new way. Freely.
Shamelessly.
Without an ounce of guilt.
I look at him with abandon, his broad frame, his big shoulders, those muscular thighs.
The way he fits in his clothes. Those lucky fucking clothes.
And his firm, tight, perfect ass.
My mouth waters.
My dick thumps.
My chest tingles.
And holy hell.
Everything I’ve resisted unlocks.
I’m an indulger. It’s just what I do. Permission granted.
I can either go inside my suite and spend the rest of the night in my head, fantasizing . . .
Or I can follow him.
There is only one choice.
I pick up the pace, racewalking down the hallway, reaching him at the elevator right before he hits the button, and setting a hand on his arm.
Jackson turns around. His eyes are blazing. His jaw is tight.
“You are so fucking sexy,” I whisper. It feels fantastic to say it, to speak this immutable truth.
He glances away, lets out a shuddery breath, then turns back to me. It’s as if he’s fighting against words, fighting to keep everything inside.
I don’t have that problem.
Yes, I know I shouldn’t be here.
With my employee.
With the guy who protects me better than anyone ever has.
But just like when whiskey kicks in, when the music thrums low and strong, I’m warm and hazy.
Liquid gold flows through me, and I’m turned all the way on, everywhere. Every damn molecule is tingling.
This man is . . . perfection. His soulful hazel eyes are edged with angst and desire, the twin combination potent and alluring.
His lips part the slightest bit. His breath seems to ghost across them, and he doesn’t move. He stares at me like an animal hunting for prey. Spotting it. Finding it.
I don’t move either.
We stand in the hall by the elevator.
And I want.