by Selena Kitt
Jake may come across as a gentleman, but he’s the raunchiest lover I’ve ever had in my short life. I can’t believe this happened to me. I smile to myself, thinking of how shocked Gwyn will be when I tell her about my first day in Denver.
Oh, gosh. Suddenly a sinking feeling hits the pit of my stomach and my joy is short-lived when I register this hot guy is my new boss’ older brother and I’ll be living with him on his ranch for the rest of the summer. What have I done? I panic when a scary thought crosses my mind. What if he wakes up and thinks all this was a big mistake? What if he sees me in broad daylight and no longer finds me as attractive as he did last night after a few too many beers? God, have I screwed up the best opportunity of my life just to get laid? I have to get out of here before Jake wakes up.
Slowly, I move the heavy arm cradling my naked body and I slide off the bed. I grab my clothes and make my way to the same bathroom I used yesterday to freshen up on my arrival. I quickly jump into my jeans and pull on my shirt. I take one look at myself and shake my head while scorning myself for being so impulsive. I quickly comb my fingers through my hair so I don’t look too disheveled, hoping this ruse will erase last night like a kid erases childish scribbles from a magic board.
Who the hell are you fooling? You look like a royal mess.
I open the door and tiptoe down the wooden steps, praying they don’t squeak under my weight. I’m so afraid to wake Jake up, I hold my breath trying to be as quiet as a mouse as I make a run for it.
How am I going to face him later today? Thousands of unsettling thoughts collide in my head with each step I take. My eyes are glued on my feet to ensure I don’t trip because the blood rushing from my heart to my brain is nearly blinding me. I’m halfway down the stairs when I think I’m home free and I start rejoicing silently.
I lift my eyes and stop, frozen.
Please God, this can’t be so.
I blink a few times hoping my mind is playing tricks on me, but no, I’m face-to-face with Isadora.
Shit. I didn’t realize she starts her day at Jake’s house. The woman standing in the kitchen raises her hands and puts them on her hips before lifting her eyebrow.
“Allison, did you just come from upstairs?” She asks the obvious question while bouncing her gaze from the top of the stairs to my guilty face.
“Uh…” I’m paralyzed with fear at the idea I’ve sabotaged the perfect job within twenty-four hours of my arrival in Colorado. I open and close my mouth like a goldfish in a tank, but nothing comes out.
“What are you doing here in Jake’s home so early in the morning?”
Crap. I’m so screwed. How do I explain to my boss’ nanny-slash-housekeeper I’ve spent all night being thoroughly fucked by a man who’s given me more orgasms in one evening than I’ve had in the eighteen months I spent with my ex?
TO BE CONTINUED…
Billionaires’ Indulgence—Book 2 Pure Lust
Will Allison lose her job before even starting because of her indiscretion with her boss’ brother?
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COWBOY - Cowboy Boots and Handcuffs by Gina Kincade & Kiki Howell
1
Kathryn looked around at her newest prison cell, another small, barely-decorated bedroom in yet another guy's, or should she say guard or warden’s place. This time the condo of one Jake or Jason something or other. He had taste similar to a saltine cracker; nothing in the condo except some cream-like paint on the walls and a few pieces of well-worn furniture. She couldn’t believe anyone actually lived here. Her room at boarding school had looked better than this, even before she’d hired a decorator to make it livable.
With an audible sigh, she moved her ear to hover close to where the door to her room sat cracked back open, after having slammed it shut for effect. She quieted her angry thoughts, wanting to hear the conversation going on about ten steps away in the living room. This place was so ridiculously tiny, even with separate bedrooms–a thin excuse for a wall between them–for all intents and purposes they would have to be considered sleeping together. Regardless of close proximity, the guy who had brought her here talked loudly, even in response to the new guy’s obvious whispering in a tight voice, clearly displaying his hints at attempting to keep their voices down. Derrick, however, the bodyguard she’d been staying with this past week–well five days, so close to a week–had already told her on their way over to the condo he was happy to be given the chance to wash his hands of her. Apparently dealing with her spoiled ass wasn’t worth the hefty pay her father had promised him. Not really. So, the fact her stalker had once again found her had been a nice excuse for Derrick to pass her on to the next poor guard on the list.
“Spoiled,” she said out loud to no one, restating the word Derrick had just used again, for like the hundredth time.
I’m not spoiled, just deserving. Daddy says so. I’m entitled to more than living like a prisoner in these low-class places with heathen–all muscles with no brains or class–guys watching my every move, loving looking down on me out of sheer jealousy. The words rumbled around in her brain so violently they were causing a headache. Or, maybe she was just hungry. Lord only knew what crap she’d be fed next. Even boarding school served better food than her wardens. Plus, when she demanded better, a five star restaurant with actual edible food, these guys acted so put out when it was their job to guard her wherever she wanted to go. Daddy had provided a food allowance, and her life wasn’t supposed to change. He expected her to eat better, and she had said so when they tried to pass off sub-par meals like pizza in a box. Not that it hadn’t tasted good, she had to admit, only if to herself, but that was not the types of foods she was accustomed to, or meant to eat. Like her father, the girls at school had confirmed her station in life, what she deserved, in the conversations she’d overheard at tables of those forced to sit around her. She had demanded her due as she’d been taught to do, like her father had commanded she be kept safe. These jerks were paid to serve and protect. Literally. At least Derrick had managed that in her short stay with him, the serve and protect thing, anyway. Conversations with him were nothing more than disinterested grunts in reply to anything she said along with a steady stream of eye rolls. He really needed a lesson in who was better than whom!
“Bet Miss I Deserve Better will drive you insane faster than she did me,” Derrick said, a tight laugh accompanying his deep, anger-laced voice.
“We will be fine,” Jason whispered back. He chuckled. “I’m surprised at you, Derrick, letting a young woman get the better of you, or at the very least under your skin like this.”
“She didn’t. She’s being moved 'cause the stalker has found her again, not my inability to do the job. Guy's a real pro. Seems to be nowhere we can hide her he can’t sniff her out. Regardless of the reason, y
ou will soon be given the privilege of understanding what she’s like. Not that I can’t handle it, but no amount of money is worth handling some boarding school bi—. Sorry, boarding school princess for long. Miss high and mighty in there is a headache no one deserves. There's no such thing as conversation with her, just a self-boosting of her ego, 'hey, look how great I am,' or a barking of orders. The stalker did me a favor finding her. I get paid to protect, as I did, even serve, letting her lead as close to a normal life as possible while under my care. However, I don’t get paid to play butler and errand boy to a demanding chick who thinks herself better than the entire population. Daddy should have hired her someone else for that and I could have protected that poor louse, too. Honestly, I don’t even understand how a person gets to be like her. What happens in a girl’s life to make them think like that? To be so brainwashed?”
“No, I can see she didn’t get under your skin at all,” Jason said, his voice sarcastically tight, his laugh escaping despite his attempt at control. “From what I read, Kathryn Caruthers is a motherless girl, raised in boarding schools due to her Senator father being re-married to politics, living between Sacramento and DC. She’s had no one to teach her how to act other than other spoiled rich girls and boarding school employees paid well to cater to her every whim.”
“Yeah, make excuses for her now, man,” Derrick countered, his tone gaining the depth of defensiveness. “I’ll talk to you in a day or two and see if you're still defending her.”
“Come on, you have to start off by feeling sorry for her and go from there, finding your understanding—“
“Give it a rest. I’m done. Have a good time. It’s almost time for her highness to be fed,” Derrick spat out before she heard the front door slam.
“Sorry for me?” Kathryn hissed as she quietly closed her door, trapping herself in her new bedroom. She was stunned, having no way to mentally process such a thing as someone feeling sorry for her. She'd never known the concept before. Hate she knew, understood it happened out of jealousy. The pettiness of girls who excluded her at school, she got that, too. Jealousy. Simple. She was better than those other rich girls. They wanted all she had. Money and privilege bread loneliness, even for those who lived in privilege. It was the price she had to pay for being born to such a man as Senator Caruthers who had kept his seat in the house longer than she could remember. Any so-called friendship at school hadn't been real anyway. They'd chosen to associate with others who could make them look better. She had no need for that, having to watch every word you said lest someone get petty and spill all of your secrets out of spite.
She had no real memories of her mother, but people always said she got her beauty from her. What else could people say? Some girls were born models, blond hair, skinny bodies. She, on the other hand, had been born with a full face and curvy figure, but money could make anyone beautiful. The right hairdresser, the proper stylist could make anyone look what people could feel free to term beautiful if they felt they had to. Money, and all it could buy, was indeed gorgeous in its own way. Since she’d been brought to political functions as a young woman, or made to attend mixers at school, realized she'd realized she would never be anything more than a pity fuck, or a girl a man dated in a bid to get to her father. Her only goal was to find a guy from the pool of those deemed appropriate suitors who she could tolerate enough to marry.
She’d never get a guy based just on her looks, or have the luxury of waiting to fall in love. No, she would have to be married off long before that. But, she was fine with that. Marriages of convenience were more prevalent than anyone liked to admit in her world. To hear the girls at school go on about their parents was proof enough. Sometimes she wished she had a mother to ask things of, about all the crap that rolled off the tongues of the girls at school. Yet, she didn’t, and she’d turned out just fine. Well, until the past few weeks, trapped with these goons paid to protect her. They’d taken her to whatever hairdresser they found, the one closest to wherever they'd had her shacked up, not the most reputable. Her long, mahogany locks were starting to show it. She fingered a big curl, less tamed than usual, and grimaced at the mirror on the back of the door, feeling sorry for herself. This was outrageous.
She formed a plan to march out there, demand to be taken shopping, to have her hair, and her nails done properly, and then be fed an appropriately edible meal. He felt sorry for her, so maybe this one would work out, attend to her needs as he should. The grin she flashed the mirror should have made her feel better. It didn't. Instead, with some odd sensation growing in the pit of her stomach, she let her hefty body fall to the sorry excuse for a bed, wincing as the springs loudly protested.
She let the brief image she’d gathered upon meeting Jason form in her brain. Solid. Tough. As they all were. Yet, she’d wanted to run her hand over the scruff on his face. She let herself off the hook for that one, deeming it some sort of curiosity with all the clean-cut type she normally met, dressed to the nines in high-priced suits. Jason's warm brown eyes had literally twinkled when he’d smiled at her, as if the man, any man for that matter, could be genuinely happy to see her. The small, dark curl of his hair around his ear, on his neck, had looked soft, inviting to touch, leaving her breathless and dumbfounded prior to being shown quickly to her room so Derrick could complain about her. The desires had disappeared quickly when she’d heard Derrick’s voice, but now knowing she was alone in a small condo with the maybe nice guy, who felt sorry for her, something akin to lust laced in irritation rolled through her tightly held core. Becoming suddenly conscious of resting her hand on the soft pouch of her stomach, she couldn’t help but wonder how hard Jason's abs must be.
She didn't even realize the thought of teasing her hand across his firm stomach brought a slight quirk to her full lips as smile spread across her mouth.
2
Jason Majors decided this was the most unusual case he'd ever had in his protective services career. A full time rancher and a part-time bodyguard for his best friend's firm, Jason knew his job and did it well, every single time. Up until now, that is.
Sure, he had watched out for and cared for some pretty big names in this business, but this one stood out beyond anyone he'd been assigned to prior.
Sequestered in a private school for more than half her life, young Miss Caruthers was nothing more than an ordinary rich man's kid, really, but her Daddy was an honest man–a rarity in the political world–and he'd apparently pissed off the wrong people because of it. Sadly, honest or not, he’d raised a monster. One had to feel sorry for the guy, though. Surely he felt the need to make up for her not having a mother the only way he had the time and means to, by giving her everything he could, buying her stuff. Boarding school raised her.
To make the case for his assumptions, Kathryn presented as a typical little rich girl: Daddy's materialistic, spoiled brat used to getting everything she wanted. So, basically this case should have been simple with the ordinary, run-of the mill stalker out to payback the Senator for refusing a bribe, right? Wrong, it had been anything but ordinary. He’d catered to her every demand so far, these first days with her, honestly feeling sorry for her. He didn’t believe she had a true friend in the world, and she definitely didn’t have family in any real sense of the word. He figured he was being paid enough to take care of her in the manner she was accustomed to, or at least some semblance of it that he could pull off. What else did he have to do? It was his job to just stick by her, watch her, protect her as she lived her life as normally as she could under 'house arrest,' as she’d called it. He’d done his best to do his work. He just wished being around her wasn’t such a physical hardship. Regardless of her attitude issues, a personality that needed some work through no real fault of her own, that body of hers... Well, there was a specific kind of suffering being around a woman who resembled a goddess in his eyes. Kathryn had every physical attribute he craved the way a pregnant woman craved food so bad it became a need.
“Stop it!” he chided himself, sl
amming his hand holding the remote down onto the couch, clutching the plastic control with a force that made his fingers ache. If his grip were any harder he'd crumble the stupid thing.
Bored with the random flicking through the channels–he wasn't paying attention to the images on the screen anyway–he pressed the power button and stared as the screen went dark. Standing with a stretch to rouse his tightened muscles, he sauntered into the kitchenette, and grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, slipped out the sliding glass door, careful to leave it open just a crack behind him.
It was so unseasonably warm for early June here in California this year; he was starting to sweat already. Taking a long, slow swig from the bottle, he sighed audibly, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the wall. Filthy habit, smoking, he knew, but one he only indulged in on rare occasions and likely out of sheer boredom.
His attentive nature automatically alerted him to the man standing in the parking lot of the condo looking under the hood of his car and shaking his head. Somewhat suspicious, really, since the guy hadn't touched a thing yet. Jason watched him for a minute, mentally committing the guy's attributes to memory as he pulled smoke down deep into his lungs. Overhearing a one-sided conversation, assuming was the dude requesting a tow truck, his gut instinct determined the guy no true threat, and his gaze traveled on. The old lady walking her dog down the block did not even catch more than a glance. Scanning the entire visually accessible area in no time flat, he decided all was secure, figuring perhaps it was just too damn hot for many people to bother coming out tonight, even a stalker.
