Guarded

by L. A. Witt

  We’d stayed rigidly professional prior to tonight. I was the bodyguard, he was the client, and that was that, no matter how much I’d admired him as a musician and lusted after him as a man prior to getting this gig. I had no idea what I’d been thinking tonight. Maybe I was just relieved he hadn’t lost his shit over the bar mix-up, or maybe I’d just let myself get carried away because I was suddenly behind closed doors with him even though it was hardly the first time we’d been alone like that. Or I thought I might have a shot since it wasn’t exactly below Jordan to sleep with men on his payroll. Some might’ve even called it a habit. One that didn’t usually bode well for continued employment by his paramours.

  Fuck if I knew what had possessed me to do it.

  But I’d made a move, and then…

  Jesus Christ.

  Did Jordan Kane really try to kiss me? Really?

  And how far would it have gone if his phone hadn’t suddenly interrupted us?

  If the rumors about Jordan were true, we’d have gone far. Insanely far. The odd ex-lover had made comments alluding to the man being insatiable and incredibly kinky. They said he liked pain. An ex-girlfriend of his had spilled to a tabloid that he liked having her choke him in bed. Not just a little roughness involving a hand on the throat either—he wanted to be choked until he blacked out. She claimed it freaked her out, but she’d also stayed with him for two and a half years, and from what she said, this had started early in their relationship.

  If it freaked you out that much, sweetheart, I don’t think you’d have stuck around.

  Much as it creeped me out that the gossip rags insisted on publishing that kind of thing about people, I couldn’t deny I’d been intrigued by that article. By what it might be like to be the one with my hands around Jordan’s neck. Even now, I couldn’t help closing my fingers into tight fists just thinking about that. I’d been hot for Jordan for years, long before I’d met him or started working for him, and knowing he was as kinky as I was drove me insane.

  God, I could only imagine what we’d have been doing right then if I hadn’t had to dart out into the night and chase down…

  My gaze slid toward Daniel.

  Oblivious to me or my you cock-blocking son of a bitch thoughts, he murmured something, but then he was quiet. His eyes were closed, and he still slumped against the door, face pressed against the glass. Whatever he was on, he must’ve been coming down off the high. At least he wouldn’t fight me once we got back to the hotel.

  The hotel, which was now in sight.

  I texted Jordan: Just getting to the hotel. Be there shortly.

  The cabbie stopped, and after I’d paid him—thank God he took plastic—I dragged Daniel out onto the pavement. He wasn’t fighting me, fortunately, but his legs were almost useless. Arm slung over my shoulders, the man was dead weight against my side as I led him into the lobby.

  The desk clerk did a double take, eyes wide. “Is he all right? Do you—”

  “He’s fine.” I forced a smile. “Just partied too hard. He’ll feel like shit in the morning, but he’ll be fine.” I hope.

  She relaxed a little, but still watched us with a concerned expression as we headed toward the elevator.

  Inside the elevator, I pressed Daniel against the wall with my hip so he wouldn’t fall, and dug the card key out of my pocket. I put it into the reader, and when the light turned green, pressed the button for the penthouse.

  As the elevator lurched upward, I pocketed the key and adjusted Daniel for the twelfth time so he’d stay upright.

  Jordan was waiting when the elevator doors opened. Given that legendary temper—he wasn’t quite a diva, but definitely a force to be reckoned with when someone crossed him—I fully expected him to rip into Daniel the second he saw us.

  He didn’t, though.

  He stood off to the side, arms folded loosely over his T-shirt, expression blank as he watched Milo and me escort—more like drag—Daniel to their suite.

  Once we were through the door, Milo took over, letting Daniel hang on him. Unlike me, Milo was quite a bit smaller than the drugged-up guitarist, and struggled under his weight, but before I could step in and help again, he managed to get Daniel to the huge sofa. With a groan—whose, I had no idea—they both dropped onto the cushions.

  Milo stood, straightening his shirt while Daniel melted across the couch.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

  “He’ll be fine.” Jordan glanced at me, but then returned his gaze to his semiconscious friend. “As long as he doesn’t try to get out and score another hit, he’ll just sleep it off and be fine tomorrow.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Milo said to Jordan. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  Jordan nodded, gaze still fixed on Daniel. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere any time soon. But, yeah, don’t let him out of your sight.” He made a tired, almost dismissive gesture at his wasted friend. “He can come out of that and be ready to go again in no time flat.”

  Milo sighed. “Believe me, I know.”

  I glanced back and forth between them as they silently watched Daniel. I had more experience with junkies than I cared to think about, and knew all too well what it felt like to be as exhausted as Milo and Jordan looked.

  To Milo, Jordan said, “If you need a hand with him, you know where to find me.”

  “I’ll manage.” Milo was looking at Daniel. “Now that he’s had his fix, he’ll probably just sleep.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  Milo turned to Jordan. “Get some sleep, man. I’ve got this.”

  Any other night, I’d have expected Jordan to insist on sticking around, but his shoulders and eyelids seemed to get heavier by the second. Nodding, he said, “All right. Call or bang on the door if you need something.”

  “Will do.”

  Jordan and I left the suite and stepped out into the hall. On his way across to his own suite, he released a long breath. Just pulling the card key out of his pocket seemed to take everything he had. The man had been nothing but barely contained energy earlier, but now he looked like he was ready to collapse under his own weight.

  At the door, he faced me. “Thank you, Jase. I don’t know how the hell you found him, but…”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I should let you sleep. I’ll, uh”—I gestured at the elevator—“head down to my room.”

  “You don’t have to leave.” He came closer. “I was, um, kind of hoping you’d stay, actually.”

  That kiss seemed like it had happened years ago instead of earlier this evening, but now it felt fresh on my lips, tingling like he’d just pulled back.

  I gulped. “Even after, uh…” I waved a hand toward Milo and Daniel’s room.

  Jordan exhaled. “Especially after all that.”

  And before I could form another coherent thought, he kissed me.

  Again.

  Chapter Three

  Jordan

  I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve just said good night and let Jase go to his room. For a few seconds after our lips touched, I felt him tense, thought for sure he’d pull away—

  But instead, those supple, gorgeous musician’s hands slid up my back. Tangled in my hair. Pulled hard.

  Jesus Christ, how did he know?

  My knees buckled, but Jase held me up, one arm looped around my waist while he fumbled with the key and finally got the door open. We stumbled inside, and—my balance returning—I pushed him up against the wall. Kissed him again, holding him there, breath shuddering in my chest—

  Until he flipped me around, shoved me against the door. His hand slid up my shirt, lodged against my throat. The room shimmied, spun, started to go dark—

  And I slumped against him, gulping down air. “Wh-why’d you let go?” I said.

  He was looking me in the eye—both eyes—deeply and intently. “You almost blacked out.”

  “I know.” The buzz from those few precious, euphoric seconds of air starv
ation was wearing off, but it still left me smiling. “That’s the best part.”

  “Holy shit.” He lowered me gently to the floor, then sat back on his heels, chuckling. “I heard all those rumors, but I never really thought…”

  “They might be true?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s why they’re called rumors, right?”

  I laughed—or tried to, around the scratchiness in my throat. Damn, Jase had one hell of a grip. “I’ll let you in on a secret. The one about me being a kinky bastard? Is spot-on.”

  “And you like big guys who don’t have a problem shoving you around?”

  “I like forgetting who I am once in a while. What’s wrong with that?” I studied his expression, but it didn’t give me much of a clue to what was going on inside his head. Still, if I’d freaked him out, I would’ve expected him to run off screaming by now. “If you’re gonna judge, there’s the door.”

  “Judge you? After some of the shit I’ve done?” He held out his hands. Huge, beautiful hands I couldn’t wait to feel around my throat again. “It’s just... I could hurt you. Badly.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “How the hell could you know that? I’ve only worked for you for—”

  “I trust you with my life out there. Why wouldn’t I do the same in here?” I climbed to my feet, still wobbling a bit. It was weird, peering down at Jase when he usually towered over me. Onstage, with all the lights and the video screens behind me, I looked—and felt—a lot taller than five foot ten. I’d learned how to make myself larger than life, but tonight all I wanted was to let that go.

  To let Jase wrap himself around me and reduce me to nothing.

  Or, failing that, to be left the fuck alone.

  “If this isn’t what you want, then go,” I said. “I’m not interested in forcing you.”

  Jase snorted. “The hell you’re not. This is all part of your thing, isn’t it?”

  “My thing?”

  “Topping from the bottom.”

  Well, he had my number—and he knew scene lingo. So who’d taught him? “You’ve done this before.”

  “A few times. Mostly pain play and bondage. Nobody’s ever asked me to choke them.” He looked at his hands, sucked in a sharp breath. “’Til now.”

  “Is that a hard limit for you?”

  “I, um... I don’t know.”

  At least he was honest. “I’m turning in,” I said, stepping toward the bedroom. “If you want to join me, c’mon. If not, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  My suitcases were spread out on the bed, still fully packed. I usually unpacked them myself—there were a few things inside I didn’t want my assistant to find—but this time I shoved them onto the floor. Peeled off my clothes and crawled under the covers.

  I’d barely closed my eyes when I heard the floorboards creak, and there was Jase, leaning in the doorway. “I didn’t scare you off?” I said.

  “You scare me plenty, but…”

  “Here you are.”

  “Yeah.” He came toward me, slow footsteps rasping on the carpet. I scooted over to make room, and he rolled onto the mattress next to me, fully clothed. He ran his fingertips up my arm, raising goosebumps. He stopped when he reached my throat, his hand nestled comfortably under my jaw. No pressure yet, just the delicious promise of it, and the warm puff of his breath over my cheek as he leaned close. “We should be careful, right? I don’t want to give you permanent laryngitis.”

  “I trust you to be gentle,” I whispered. “But not too gentle.”

  He kissed me once, twice—tiny touches I barely felt, but still left me breathless. Or maybe that was his hand closing over my throat. “Like that, huh?” He let go with a grin, rolling to his feet.

  Most people are too fucking scared to seek out what I’d been chasing for years—that moment of pure, unadulterated bliss before the black rolls through. I’d never experienced it fully conscious until now, watching Jase peel off his jacket, then his gun holster before finally shedding the rest of his clothes. Anyone who’d seen him in jeans and a T-shirt knew he had a powerful body, but all that bare, tanned skin and sleek muscle close enough to touch left me trembling.

  Everybody thinks once you’ve achieved a certain amount of success, you can have anything you want. Anyone you want. Truth is, by that point you don’t want anyone who wants you. There’s no way of telling if they’re for real or not.

  Was Jase for real? Or was he only here because he thought I’d fire him if he said no?

  He crawled back into bed, frowning as his hand brushed my shoulder. “You’re cold.”

  “I-I’m fine.” A little dizzy, but that was just... him. The heat radiating through his skin. His stubble rasping across my throat. His weight beside me, bearing us both down into the mattress. I inhaled his breath, euphoria rising in my lungs—

  His hard cock brushed against me, prodding my thigh. So this wasn’t all about me. It turned him on too.

  His eyes darkened, radiating an intense green light that ramped my arousal into high gear, especially when he tightened his grip around my throat enough to make my next breath a challenge, then let go. He did it again, and again, holding on a bit longer each time. Trying to see how far he could push without turning out my lights for good?

  “This is what you want?” he rasped. “For me to choke you and hold you down while I fuck you?”

  “Jesus, you have to ask?”

  Jase chuckled. “You really are a kinky bastard.”

  I thought I could read him, gauge what he’d do next, but nothing prepared me for the full, crushing weight of his body rolling on top of me. I wasn’t exactly scrawny, but I didn’t have Jase’s musculature. If he wedged his arm against my throat, I couldn’t stop him, no matter how hard I tried to push him off—

  This wasn’t a little pressure, then letting go. He wasn’t letting any air through at all. Let go, let go, I mouthed, my brain on the verge of exploding—

  Then something warm and wet closed over my dick. Warm and wet and deep and—

  Gone, in a flurry of dark spots dancing in front of my eyes.

  Jase glanced up, licking my pre-come from his lips. Lifting his arm so I could drag in a breath. “Did I scare you?”

  “N-No.”

  Oh, who was I kidding?

  Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.

  From Jase’s smirk, it was pretty clear he’d gotten the real message. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you pass out.”

  Then the warm wet was back, Jase’s hand closing over my throat, cutting off my air a millimeter at a time—

  My breathing slowed, stopped, lungs ready to burst—

  And all the colors in the universe shattered and splintered in my head, a million fucking hues I’d never imagined, right before everything went—

  Black.

  Chapter Four

  Jase

  I immediately released Jordan. Panic shot through me. I’d been so caught up in the moment but then…

  Fuck, did he actually—

  His eyelids fluttered. The tip of his tongue swept across his lips, and the moan he released was definitely not from fear or pain. Not the bad kind, anyway.

  Thank God. He was okay. In that moment, it had been hot, and he’d been so goddamned hard I’d been surprised he hadn’t come, but the way my heart was pounding now made my stomach turn.

  “Why’d you stop?” he slurred, sliding his hand up my arm.

  I rolled onto my back and took him with me. “You’ve got an interview tomorrow,” I murmured between kisses. “Can’t… leave marks.” True, yes, and a good enough excuse for the time being. Maybe even one that wouldn’t kill the mood.

  He shifted his weight onto one arm and snaked his other hand between us. “I’m not worried about marks.” His slim fingers wrapped around my cock, screwing with my ability to concentrate as he said, “I have ways of covering them up.”

  With what he was doing with his hand, it took me a second to make the connection. “Scarves.”

&
nbsp; He grinned. So that explained his penchant for scarves and high collars, even in the summer.

  Still, I wasn’t ready to leave marks on him. Not the kind someone could see if his collar slipped down or a scarf loosened.

  “Tell me honestly. Nobody just does that to someone—how’d you know?” Jordan breathed, eyes locked on mine as he continued stroking my dick. “That I’d like it?”

  “I read…” I moistened my lips. “There was an article.” My face burned. The last thing he probably wanted to think about right then was his ex talking about their love life to the press.

  But Jordan just laughed. “Maybe I’ll have to thank her for that interview after all.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he kissed me again.

  This was… surreal. So bizarre. I was in bed with Jordan Kane. His hands were on me. His hand was on my dick, for God’s sake. And I’d been choking him. And he liked it. And…

  “What’s wrong?” He lifted his head and met my eyes. His hand stopped. “You tensed up.”

  There is so much wrong with this.

  But I shook my head and slid my fingers up into his hair. “Nothing’s wrong.” I tightened my grip on his hair until he gasped, and then pulled him down into a kiss, and whatever we were talking about…we weren’t talking about anymore. Hands all over each other’s bodies. Mouths…mouths everywhere. Jordan kissed and nipped my neck and shoulders. Then I put him on his back and explored his neck, his chest, his abs. When I bit his nipple, he whimpered and shivered. As I inched closer to his dick, kissing and biting my way down his flat abs, he whispered curses and gently nudged my head, not quite forcing me down, but definitely letting me know that was what he wanted.

  The second I went down on him, Jordan thrust up into my mouth. “Holy fuck, Jase!”

  My face burned. Milo and Daniel had to have heard that. And the long, throaty groan that followed… there was no way in hell they hadn’t heard that one.

  But I was in bed with Jordan, and we were hard and naked and losing our minds, and his cock was in my mouth, so who the fuck cared?