reaction herself. Her legs are trembling, trying to hold herself above me, extending my torturous delight. “All the way, angel. Take me all the way.”
She gasps, telling me the position is making it harder for her to take me fully. “One second,” she pants, clenching her eyes shut just as she releases her muscles and drops the rest of the way.
I buck on a roar, and Cami screams, the noise overwhelming the hammering of the water. My hands shoot up and grab the tops of her thighs, holding her still. She’s not moved yet and this is already too much to cope with. One stroke and I might explode. I’m not done yet!
“Easy, angel,” I say, the sheer wonderful sensations making me drowsy. “Take your time.”
She groans, slapping her hands into my abs, her head dropping. “I can do it,” she says, rounding her small hips, sucking in air. I force myself to remain still. It takes every fucking scrap of strength I have and more. Then she circles again, and I choke, digging my fingers into her thighs. “Oh God, yes!” she cries, hitting me with another rotation.
My world tumbles into a decadent bliss that will never be rivaled. She finds strength from somewhere and drives on, her head tossed back, her screams constant. Never before have I experienced anything like it, and never again am I likely to, unless it’s with this heaven-sent angel connected to me, looking like she’s on the cusp of explosion.
Just as her arms stiffen, forcing her palms into me, the blood swirling in my cock rushes to the very tip, making my hips jerk, taking on a mind of their own.
“Cami.” I try to warn her, try to tell her that I’ve reached the point of no return, but then she wails, landing me with wide, hungry eyes. She’s nearly there, too. “Oh, yeah,” I choke, starting to work her motions by shoving her thighs back and forth, pushing us both on, stimulating more feeling.
“Jake!”
I see her mouth open and lip-read her yelling my name, but all I can hear is my blood rushing through my veins as my arousal swells, jerks and bursts within her, the rolls of release coming and coming until the intensity of it renders me incapable of admiring her fighting her way through her own climax.
I close my eyes, feeling her fall onto my chest in an exhausted heap. My arms find some energy to encase her, my heart beats wildly against her chest.
I’ll pick her up soon and take her to my bed. But until then, she’s good held tightly in my arms. It’s where I plan on keeping her.
Chapter 20
CAMI
My last memory is the feel of Jake’s chest against my cheek and the water hitting my back. Somewhere between then and now, he’s moved us to his bed. I don’t remember when. I must have been unconscious, knocked out by exhaustion and pure contentment. Sex with Jake has been overwhelming every single time, but last night in the shower was on another level. I’ve never been taken to those heights before. I’ve never been made to feel so needed and wanted. It was all-consuming.
I stare across the planes of Jake’s chest, tucked into his side, our legs a tangle of limbs, half-covered by the sheets. His arm is holding me in place, his head slightly dropped to the side. His heart is throbbing an even, steady beat under my ear. He’s asleep. Not snoozing lightly like always; half-awake and aware. He’s deep in sleep. It’s the first time I’ve seen him looking so at ease.
I walk my fingers up his chest, unable to resist feeling him. His jaw is shaded with his usual stubble, his lips full and parted as my fingertips drift onto them lightly. He doesn’t flinch, his eyes still closed. I just watch him, wondering what today might bring.
Should I brave a visit to my father and tell him about me and Jake? Or should I just call him? Or maybe I just don’t tell him at all and run away with Jake? When I decided to make my excuses so I could leave my father’s party, I knew that if I did, it was going to change my life forever.
Jake is probably the only man on earth not intimidated by my father. It’s both a comfort and a worry. Dad sees my purpose as just another business transaction. And Jake has dared to get in his way. Whatever the fallout, it’s going to be immense.
But the comfort of having Jake by my side offers some security.
I sigh, snuggling back into his chest.
“That was a weary sigh.” His sleepy voice breaks into my thoughts, and his lids flutter open, revealing dark, concerned eyes.
“Just wondering about a few things.”
He moves lethargically, pulling himself down the bed and onto his side so our faces are level and close. His hand on my hip, he leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. “You look inconceivably gorgeous this morning,” he says, and I smile. “Tell me what you’re wondering.”
“About my father. Do you really think he had Pete and Grant follow us?”
He watches me for a few moments, a fond smile on his lips. “Yes, I do.”
My lips purse. Since my dad has told me that he’s gotten to the bottom of the threats, there could be only one other reason for him to send them after us. “Because he thinks we’re…” I drift off, letting my eyes fall to his chin. I’m not sure how to word it. I can’t tell him I’ve fallen in love with him. Mostly because I still haven’t figured out how Jake sees us. How he feels. Apart from having a need to protect me that goes beyond his call of duty, what else does he feel? How deep is this for him?
Grabbing my arm, he hauls me up, manipulating my body to where he wants me, straddling his stomach. I go without protest, my mind a fuzz of thoughts. He brings my hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. It’s a loving gesture, and my thoughts distort further. The last time he let his personal emotions compromise his judgment, he said the consequences were grave. But I’m too scared to ask what happened. Or how it’s all connected to the woman in the photo. It’s obviously a painful story, but I’ve figured out one thing. He must have loved her. I feel terrible for hating that thought.
“Like it or not, angel, your father isn’t going to be happy. I’m prepared for that, and you should be, too.”
“I am,” I murmur, a little relieved that Jake and I seem to be thinking along the same lines. “Though when you say you’re prepared, what do you mean?” That’s a worry, too. I couldn’t allow or accept Jake going maniac on my father. I shudder, flashbacks of yesterday popping into my mind when he annihilated a crowd of grown men.
“He’s going to try to stop me from seeing you. I won’t let that happen.”
“How?” He’s being too vague. I need details to fully prepare.
His lip tips at the corner a little, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “I won’t hurt your father.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Thank you.” Massively relieved, I lower my chest onto his and snuggle into him, feeling the softness of his bristle rub into my temple.
Jake sighs, a long smooth sigh, his hand cupping the back of my head and holding me to him.
We relax into a lovely cuddle, and it’s all so very peaceful, until a subtle bang from beyond his bedroom door makes Jake’s relaxed body tense beneath mine. He stills and seems to stop breathing, and I start to push my way out of his embrace, but get tugged back down and held prisoner in his arms. His sudden alertness and the wary vibes make it impossible not to panic a little.
“Jake, what’s the matter?”
More sounds ring out, this time a collection of bangs, and this time louder. I’m removed from Jake’s body in a heartbeat. “Stay here,” he orders harshly, bolting up from the bed.
I fly back against the headboard, pulling the covers up my body, like the pathetic thin sheets can protect me from whatever’s gotten him so agitated. His whole body is shaking with tension, and his jaw is tight. I’ve seen him behave like this before. When he saw a threat. He reaches under the mattress, keeping his eyes on the door in his bedroom, and pulls out a gun.
“Holy shit!” I scramble back some more, my eyes rooted to the weapon that always looks so comfortable in his grasp. Like an extension of his arm. “Jake—”
“Quiet, Cami!” he hisses, slowly pulling back a section on the gun. It clicks as he paces toward the bedroom door.
Even completely naked he looks lethal, every muscle on his back and in his legs poised to strike. He’s holding the gun steady by his thigh, his finger on the trigger. He takes a quick peek around the door frame, then disappears from view, and I’m left on the bed, shaking and struggling for breath.
Part of me is demanding I go after him. Part of me is telling me I need to stay put. Part of me is ordering me to run away. I feel small and useless, huddled on the bed, the silence killing me as I wait for…I don’t know. What am I waiting for? Shouts? Gunshots?
“Fuck!” Jake roars. My heart leaps into my throat and bursts, choking me. But I can’t move. Fear has frozen me in place. I hear a collection of curses and a few thuds…and then it goes silent.
“Jake!” I scream, my body coming to life and catapulting itself to the end of the bed, the sheets left behind in my haste. There’s no reply, and I hover on the brink of total meltdown, not knowing what to do for the best. “Jake!”
The door flies open and I jump back. It takes me a few seconds to focus, and a few more to see that the silhouette in the doorway isn’t Jake’s.
It’s a woman.
“Oh, this is just fucking perfect!” she yells, waving an accusing hand up and down in front of me.
Cautiously I move back, collecting the sheets to cover myself and assessing what I’m faced with. She’s short but looks formidable, and her black hair’s cut into a severe pixie style. She’s wearing a grey skirt-suit, a white shirt beneath the blazer. Who is this?
Jake appears behind her, towering above, his shoulders and head clearing her tiny frame. He looks pensive. I don’t like it. “I nearly blew your fucking head off, Lucinda,” he grumbles, flicking me a worried stare.
Lucinda? Who the hell is Lucinda?
“I wish you had!” she snaps, swinging around and coming face to face with Jake’s nipples. She huffs, steps back, and looks up, while Jake looks at her a little tiredly. “Because that”—she throws an arm back in the general direction of the bed, or in the general direction of me—“makes me want to shoot my own brains out!”
I gawk, offended, and Jake rolls his eyes. “Don’t let me stop you,” he mutters, turning and wandering across to a chair. He’s still totally naked and completely unbothered by it. And this Lucinda person, whoever she is, isn’t fazed by the mass of naked muscle, either. He pulls on some boxers and strides out of the room.
She starts stomping after him, her anger tangible. “Heads will roll, Jake! The whole fucking agency will suffer!”
Ooohhh…
I’m beginning to understand what her issue is. She’s a colleague, and she’s worried about the repercussions of mine and Jake’s involvement. My father’s wrath is something I’m well aware could cause problems for Jake and the agency he works for.
“And just because you couldn’t keep your cock out of a hole!” she rants on. “Any fucking hole! If it has a pulse and a fucking hole, it’s good to go, right?”
I recoil, disgusted, as I remain on the bed listening to Lucinda’s tirade about Jake’s stupidity, but Jake doesn’t argue, doesn’t breathe a word. Then it falls quiet, and I wonder, probably reasonably, whether he might have strangled her. I get off the bed with the sheets wrapped around me and creep toward the door, listening carefully for any signs of choking. But when I reach the threshold of Jake’s colossal living space, I see them both hunched over a desk that’s sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at a computer screen. Lucinda is very much alive.
I cough lightly, indicating my presence, and they both swing round. Jake gives me a little smile, while Lucinda shakes her head in despair.
“Have you met Lucinda, Cami?” Jake asks dryly, indicating the woman next to him. “She’s dead friendly.”
I’m halfway between smiling and trembling, unsure whether I should be teasing her like Jake seems so comfortable doing. “Hi.” I hold up an awkward hand, and she sighs, wandering over.
“Pleasure,” she says, taking my hand and shaking lightly, before pausing and looking down at our joined palms. She frowns and pulls away, looking at her hand before wiping it on her skirt.
Jake laughs loudly, while I’m a bit put out. Cheeky cow!
Lucinda ignores Jake’s amusement and holds up a magazine in front of my face, too closely for me to focus. “If Daddy suspects anything, then I guess he’ll have it confirmed soon.”
I step back and home in on the top left-hand corner of the page. There’s a picture of me draped across Jake’s arms. As he carried me out of the bar like a hero, my face buried against his big chest. I shoot a look to where he’s standing at his desk, finding him lost in thought.
“Let me read you a section, shall I?” Lucinda says, glancing down at the print. “‘London socialite Camille Logan, daughter of business tycoon Trevor Logan, is always a step ahead. The leggy blonde, who models for the likes of Karl Lagerfeld and Christian Dior, might have just taken job perks to a new level with her tall, dark, handsome bodyguard.’” She looks at Jake. “That’s you, by the way.” She coughs and goes on. “‘The pair were spotted—’”
“Okay!” I snap, getting worked up on Jake’s behalf. “I get it.”
Lucinda drops the magazine and looks at me as if she could be my father. I could slap her for it. “Do you really?”
I scowl at her. I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking the same thing everyone thinks when they read the shit that’s printed about me. They have that preconception of what sort of person I should be based on the bollocks they read. This woman thinks I’m just a stupid little girl who’s fallen in love with her bodyguard. Only one part of that statement is true, but I have no desire to waste my breath on putting her straight on the other. Like the rest of the world who think they know me, she can go fuck herself. I’m tired of trying to justify myself. “Excuse me, I need to go file my nails.” I swivel and walk away, boiling on the inside.
I toss the sheets on the bed and head for the shower, resisting punching the door frame on my way through it. I could burst with fury.
How fucking dare she?
Slamming the shower on, I stamp my way in and viciously scrub at my skin, trying to scrub away the anger and resentment at the same time. He puts his dick in holes. Any holes. She thinks I’m just another hole for him. My teeth clench.
I must be the cleanest I’ve ever been by the time I’m done, but I feel no better. Snatching a towel, I scrub at my body some more until I’m bone dry and my skin is tingling sore. Then I stare out the window across the docklands, my stomach sinking further and further by the second. Damn my father. Damn everything.
“Angel?” His soft call drifts into the room and swirls around in my head. But I don’t look at him, choosing to pull my towel up and tuck it in under my arms instead, busying myself.
“Has Cruella gone?” I ask curtly.
“Yes.” He’s pensive. “Why are you so mad?”
I give up the landscape of London and face him, but I’m unable to appreciate my new view. “I don’t want to be just another meaningless fuck to you.” I only meant to think that, but the words are out with no chance of being retracted now. His sexual past isn’t any of my business, and even if I thought it was, I wouldn’t want to know.
Understanding surfaces on his face, and I close my eyes, full of regret. “And there we have it,” he mutters, the sound of his bare feet padding toward me.
I hate myself for saying what I did. Mainly because I sound needy and insecure, and that’s the last thing I want to portray. Even to Jake. Even if I really do feel like I need him.
His fingertip meets my chin and he applies the lightest of pressure, encouraging me to lift my head. “Look at me.”
I reluctantly open my eyes, finding Jake’s dark gaze soft and reassuring. It only serves to make me feel worse, because he understands me so well.
He smiles. “I’m not going t
o tell you that it isn’t true. I’m not proud of it. I screwed women. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Stop.” I look away from him, hating the thought of anyone taking the pleasure I get from him.
“No, I won’t.” He fully grabs my chin, a silent but firm indication of what he wants. It kills me, but I comply, looking him in the eyes. “When I couldn’t distract myself with work, that’s all I had. They were faceless women, angel.” Dipping, he pushes his scratchy cheek into mine and whispers in my ear. “I see you.”
His sincerity can’t be mistaken for anything less than that. I hear it, I feel it. But what about the woman in the picture? She clearly meant more to him. And she isn’t faceless. She has a face, and it’s in that photograph. Yet I want her to remain faceless to me. Like she never existed.
Wearily and on a sigh, I nod and promise myself never to let my mind wander there again. I circle his waist and hug him.
“That’s better.” He lifts me from my feet—my towel falling from my body—and carries me into the bedroom. He takes me down to the bed and kisses his way up my body until he finds my lips. I’m indulged and worshipped, his mouth consuming mine as his fingers creep closer to my thighs, my insides quickly unfurling with anticipation.
“I think we should stay in bed all day,” he mumbles around my lips, kissing his way to my ear and dipping his tongue inside.
The muffled sound, his hot breath penetrating my hearing, all do a perfect job of ridding me of the last lingering remnants of aggravation and worry. His suggestion is fine by me. The longer I
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