Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security Book 3)

by Marie James

  “Enough,” Flynn snaps, positioning his body between his friend and me.

  I look around his large frame. “What did you say?”

  Finnegan shrugs before walking away with his eyes scanning the crowd.

  “He said your friend is crazy and I agreed with him,” Ignacio explains with a wink before also walking away.

  I’m grinning at the two of them when a finger crooks under my chin. Looking up into blue eyes, I get lost.

  “I’ve missed you today.” I know it sounds silly. We were together all night, and considering I slept so late, it hasn’t been long since I was in his arms.

  For the briefest second, his thumb sweeps over my bottom lip. My core clenches with need. How will I survive this damn party? I open my mouth to tell him to get me out of here, but his eyes narrow as he looks down at me, making me pause.

  “No drugs tonight, Remi, and don’t get too drunk.”

  I could tell him I no longer do drugs and haven’t in months, but his tongue sneaks out, licking at his lower lip and distracts me. I nod my head in agreement instead.

  “Have fun, okay?”

  I nod again, knowing he isn’t going to touch me in front of his friends. I’ve decided that’s the problem. He wants me. He wants to do dirty things to me, but he’s working. It must be killing him not to touch me, so I tease him a little, running my hand down his stomach and over the erection straining his slacks before spinning away and heading to the dance floor.

  The music is loud, the drinks flowing for my friends as I dance, my skin growing damp with sweat at the exertion. One song fades into the next, and I let myself get lost in my own little world, honestly surprised that I can have a good time without powder in my nose and alcohol coursing through my veins.

  The guys, mostly Flynn, keep me hydrated, passing me bottles of water and asking me if I want something different. It was part of the protocol Flynn insisted on for tonight. I’m not to take a drink from anyone but him or a member of his team. I thought it was ridiculous at first, but now that he’s walked up to me several times—refusing to dance each and every damn time—I’m happy to see his face often.

  “Plan on taking a break anytime soon?” Ignacio asks, handing me a fresh water and moving a little to the beat as I crack the top and take a long sip.

  “Not a chance!” I yell over the music, passing him back the bottle when I’m done.

  He grins, his eyes darting over my shoulder as he places the half empty bottle on a nearby table.

  “How about that dance?”

  My smile grows, knowing exactly what he’s doing, and let me tell you, I’m here for it.

  He pulls me closer, his hands in a respectful position on my hips.

  “Is this okay?” I nod, biting my lip and resist looking behind me. “What about this?”

  He slides closer, pulling my body to his chest, one of his legs sliding between mine.

  “Is he watching?” He grins with a nod. “Is he pissed?”

  “Fucking livid.” His smile is wide, matching my own, as he guides me around the dance floor. He never turns me so I can face Flynn because we both know the jig would be up if he did. “Are you going to nurse my wounds after he beats the shit out of me?”

  I scrunch my nose, unsure if he’s joking. I don’t know the man well enough to know if he’s serious about wanting to do things with me in that way.

  “I knew I liked you.” I squeal in delight as he pushes me away only to spin me around and pull me right back against his chest. “Just a warning, he’s coming this way, and he isn’t happy.”

  “I can handle him,” I assure Ignacio just as he spins me again.

  Only this time he doesn’t pull me back, and I crash against Flynn’s chest.

  “I don’t want you dancing with my friends,” he growls, his head so low I can feel the words leave his mouth on my lips.

  “Then you better fill my dance card.”

  I expect him to step away. It’s what he’s been doing all night, so it’s shocks me when he grips the meat of my ass in one huge hand and pulls me to his chest. His other hand tangles in my hair at the base of my neck seconds before his mouth lowers, tongue licking away a trail of sweat from my neck.

  Even with overheated skin from dancing all night, it gives me cold chills. My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, and in seconds, I go from having a good time to wanting to get the hell out of here. Dancing is fun. Dancing with Flynn as he moves his hips seductively is better, but I have a laundry list of things I want to do with this man, and none of them include an audience.

  “You have a beautiful smile,” he says, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You should show it more often.”

  Of course, it’s easy to smile around him. He’s fun and entertaining, and for the most part he doesn’t treat me like a child. He stopped ignoring me. His eyes sparkle when I walk into a room regardless of the hard set to his mouth.

  It’s when he’s not around that my face falls, but he’s not going anywhere, so I don’t have to worry about that.

  Angling my head back, I look into his eyes. His body moves, guiding mine with an ease I never would’ve expected from the strait-laced man. His fingers on my ass tighten, his erection speaking for him as his eyes dip to my lips. Just knowing he’s looking at them makes my mouth tingle.

  I brush my lips across his, a test to see what he’s willing to do. He hardly acknowledged me when I came down the stairs in my dress since he was in front of his friends. Now, there are dozens of people shifting around us as they move to the music. Getting rejected in front of everyone would crush me, so I take tiny steps. A small touch, a teasing nip to his bottom lip.

  His eyes flare, the hand in my hair moving to reposition my face.

  He kisses me. It’s not a rough, hurried kiss like the very first we shared. This one is filled with so much passion, I’m tempted to hike my dress and climb him like a tree right here on the dance floor.

  He doesn’t allow it. The man is always in control of himself, always cognizant of what’s going on around him regardless of what he’s doing.

  When we break away, I lift my head, unwilling to let him go far but he prevents our mouths from meeting a second time.

  “Look.” His fingers at my neck shift, allowing my head to turn to the side.

  Although we were guaranteed no paparazzi would make it past the front door, some still managed. The flashes I thought were part of the lighting system are in fact bulb flashes from their cameras. I shrug, uncaring that they’re here. All I care about is getting my hands back on him, hopefully with less clothing between us.

  “It’s fine,” I say, my voice raw and scratchy with desire. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Ready to go home already?”

  I shake my head as his teeth dig into his plump bottom lip, a frown forming when he notices that it’s drawing all of my attention. His mouth feels amazing on mine and I can’t help but wonder how it will feel all over my body, on my stomach, brushing the inside of my thigh. Geez, I’m letting myself get worked up over here.

  “Hotel,” I tell him, hating the way it makes his jaw clench.

  He just kissed the life out of me, and now he has an issue with going back to a room where we can have a little privacy? He’s going to give me whiplash.

  “Please?” I rotate my hips against his, realizing with the kiss we’ve stopped dancing and are standing still in the middle of the room, people swirling around us.

  “Remi,” he warns, but the grip he has on my ass tightens, drawing me impossibly closer instead of pushing me away.

  “Flynn,” I tease, using the same tone.

  “You’re making me crazy.”

  “So you keep saying.” I nip at his jaw before I drag my tongue down his neck. He’s all man and clean sweat and even though my hands are shaking at the prospect of being alone with him while we’re both sober, healthy, and energized from dancing close, I’m not scared. We could go to a hotel and just hold each other. My body
is on fire, but I learned to control my hormones a long time ago.

  He rolls his hips, starting out dancing once again, and it hits me in just the right spot making me realize I’m completely full of shit. If we end up alone, I’m going to do something I’ve never done. My body hums with anticipation.

  “If we go to a hotel room, I’m going to end up fucking you.”

  It’s like he can read my mind, and how do I even respond to that? I grin up at him.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 23

  Flynn

  It’s not often that I put myself in a situation that my gut tells me is a mistake and I do it anyway.

  Giving into temptation and thinking about physical needs, demands from my body, was something I got control over shortly after high school. I’m sure people have a million words to describe me and impulsive isn’t one of them.

  Yet I’m in the elevator with Remington, in the same hotel we came to right before the flu knocked me on my ass, and I know where this is heading.

  Technically, it can’t be considered impulsive considering we had to leave the club, get in the car, ride over here, and book a room. With those several steps, there’s no way to call it an impulse. We’re actively making a decision, actively choosing to walk into that hotel room, knowing what’s going to happen.

  She’s kept the secret about her virginity.

  I haven’t opened my mouth to tell her I have an early morning flight back to St. Louis in the morning.

  “Remi.” I grab her arm, keeping her in the elevator when the doors open up on the same floor we were on the last time we were here.

  “Hmm?” Her eyes flutter, looking up at me, and it’s impossible to look away.

  I need to open my mouth and tell her everything, including this is a bad idea. Did she see the disappointment in Ignacio’s face when I told him we were heading out? I don’t know how she missed it. He knows what’s going to happen between the two of us. He’s also aware I’ve been fired from working for the Blairs and leaving in the morning.

  He doesn’t know she’s a virgin. If he knew that, he probably would’ve clocked me in the jaw and told her what an asshole I am for even considering taking her inside that room.

  “What’s wrong?” Her soft, warm hand cups my jaw and I’m overcome with emotion.

  This woman is gorgeous, there’s no arguing that fact.

  What I didn’t anticipate after meeting her that first time is that she’s compassionate, caring, and more fun to be around than any woman I’ve met before her. Sitting and just chatting with her makes time fly and hours disappear. Her smile lights something inside of me. The way her hair moves over her shoulders makes me want to sweep the silky strands through my fingers. Hell, even the way her eyes sparkle when a waiter sets a plate of food in front of her brings a smile to my damn face.

  When did this happen? When did she become more than just a fantasy, more than a gorgeous woman who I wanted to get naked?

  It’s going to make things so much messier in the long run. It’s going to hurt to walk away from her, but at the end of the day, her life is here in New York in her castle and mine is back in Missouri.

  “We can just cuddle,” she assures me as she steps closer.

  I huff a laugh. We both know better.

  “You holding me last night was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she confesses, her cheeks turning the sexiest shade of pink.

  The woman is starved for attention, and the barbarian in me wants to lavish her with it. Spend hours making her realize she’s the only one I see, the most important person.

  Fuck, tonight is going to be hard, the morning even harder, but as I press the button to open the elevator, I’m still not sure who it’s going to be hardest on, her or me.

  The pause on the elevator was another link breaking the impulsivity excuse, as is standing to the side while she opens the door to the suite. The familiar rooms don’t help. There’s no urge to explore and look around like one would have when first walking into such luxury. I know what all the rooms look like. I paced through them for hours while Remington was sleeping her fever away and I was battling myself with crawling back into bed with her.

  “You seem out of sorts,” she says as she places her tiny purse on a side table before walking toward me. Her hands go to my chest, fingers spreading over the muscles there.

  I know what I’m going to do. I knew it when I reopened the elevator, and I know it’s going to be amazing. There’s no way it can’t be, but I’ve crossed a line.

  It’s no longer just my body begging for this woman. My head is on board one hundred percent. The only thing giving me pause is the fallout.

  “I’ve wanted you for so long,” I confess, my mouth low to her ear, the scent of her skin filling my nose. “You look amazing in this dress.”

  I take a step back, sweeping my eyes up and down the length of her—something that had nearly killed me, trying to keep from doing it the second she walked down the stairs earlier. My friends can read me like a book. They know the score where she’s concerned, but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of watching me drool on her parents’ marble floors.

  “It’s not very comfortable.” She blinks up at me. “Help me get it off?”

  Whoever says they don’t want to be tortured to death wasn’t standing in front of this woman. The back and forth and anticipation are killing me, but knowing where this night is going to lead makes me want to slow it down even more and savor every single second.

  “Turn around.” The husk in my voice surprises me, but she listens. Her head turns, eyes peeking over her shoulder as I reach for the zipper at her back. The rash of the teeth releasing fills the silent room, and my cock pulses in eagerness.

  She doesn’t drop the dress to her feet like I expect. She winks at me, clutching the fabric to her chest and starts to walk toward the bedroom.

  “I’m going to get comfortable.”

  Her cheeks are pink as if she’s a little shy right now, and I have to remember that the walking around half-naked in the beginning was all a ploy. The woman was comfortable in her skin because she knew she controlled the situation. She knew she wasn’t going to go a step further than she’d done before. Tonight is going to be a brand-new experience for her, and the unknown is making her a little uneasy.

  I’m not going to step away, not going to leave this room without knowing what she feels like wrapped around my dick unless she puts a stop to things. Half of me wishes she would, wishes she wouldn’t torture me with that knowledge. The other half? That half has been on board since she walked up to me, nipples pebbled from the cool air in her house with that manipulative grin on her pretty face.

  I’m left standing in the middle of the room watching her walk away. Comfortable? In what? A towel? It’s not like we packed bags in preparation for tonight. I pace, knowing that once she’s fully out of that dress, she’s naked for the rest of the night.

  My hands dig into my pockets when shaking them doesn’t stop the insistent urge to follow her. As they brush the tiny box there, I feel an odd sense of calm wash over me.

  I’m looking down at the box, now in my hands, when she returns.

  “Much better,” she whispers.

  When I look up, she’s standing at the edge of the room, the toe of one bare foot drawing tiny circles in the plush carpet. My eyes drift up, revealing bare, smooth legs with just the perfect amount of tan to them. The fabric of a robe brushes the middle of her thighs, and despite the way she’s acted previously, the robe is closed tight, no hint of cleavage below her perfect neck.

  She’s a seductress even when she’s not trying to be.

  “I… ahh… got this for you.” I hold out the small box, unable to cross the room to her.

  Maybe it’s nerves or more of animal instinct to want to watch her walk toward me on the off chance that her thigh will split the robe open.

  She grins, her eyes drifting to the box in my hand, but she doesn’t immediately
move.

  “What is that?”

  “A gift.” Her eyes find mine. “Happy birthday, Remington.”

  “You got me a gift?”

  I’d smile if it weren’t for the pure shock laced with sadness in her voice.

  “Of course.”

  Slowly, she crosses the room, taking the box from my hand. She’s making a big deal at such a small gesture. It almost makes me want to pull it back, fearful that it won’t live up to her expectations. It’s not a huge thing, or very expensive, but I saw it online—searching for shit I shouldn’t have even let inside my head—and knew I needed to get it for her.

  She gasps as she pulls the lid off, and I barely resist reaching for her when a tear slides down her cheek.

  “Remi?”

  Watery eyes look up at mine. “It’s beautiful.”

  I look back down at the butterfly, wondering if she understands the significance—that all she has to do is spread her wings and fly. She dashes away the tears, her eyes drifting back down to the belly button jewelry.

  “I’m glad you like it.” I hate that I won’t get the chance to see you wearing it.

  “It’s a thoughtful gift.”

  When I bought it, I pictured myself tracing the fucking thing with my tongue, but I guess the one she has in right now will just have to do.

  “Thank you.” She takes the box, replacing the lid and sets it on the table beside her purse.

  When she steps closer, my arms automatically go around her like we’ve been coming together like this for years.

  Before her lips can reach mine, I pull my head back.

  “Tonight’s a special night.”

  “It is,” she agrees, but she doesn’t tell me her truth.

  “Tonight is the only special night.” She blinks, looking away for a brief moment in understanding before nodding her agreement. “Let’s make the most of it.”

  She has to know I won’t be in New York forever, but I’m an asshole and don’t open my mouth to tell her just how soon I will be leaving.

  She squeals, a joyous sound that arrows straight to my dick, when I lift her off of her feet. Her legs instinctively wrap around my hips, splitting that damn robe so the warmth of her body is directly against me.