by Molly Joseph
Because they’d never stop having crazy porno sex.
Even now, his cock rose uncomfortably against his restrictive pants. She’d been everything he’d imagined in bed, and so much more. So uninhibited, so wild. They hadn’t needed fetish toys or floggers or any of that shit, because their bodies had turned electric together, two live wires crossed, setting off showers of blinding sparks. Looking back, it was amazing they hadn’t set the bed on fire.
His phone bleated, a message from his boss. Got your request. Don’t have anyone immediately available to replace you. Can you wait two days?
Ransom rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t confessed what he’d done, out of respect for Lola’s privacy. If he’d told Liam those four words—I slept with her—there would have been someone here already to take his place, and he would be out of a job. You deserve to be out of a job, his conscience whispered.
By the time he looked up, Lola was stirring. Damn phone. He usually remembered to silence it while she was sleeping, but his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. She blinked at him, perhaps experiencing the same parade of memories he’d suffered as he watched her sleep.
She made a soft sound and pulled the covers over her eyes. A moment later, she peeked out at him. “Why are you so dressed?” she asked.
“It’s almost three in the afternoon.”
“Come back to bed.” She stretched, reaching out for him. He felt actual, physical pain that he couldn’t respond.
“I can’t.” He tried not to think about how lovely and naked she was, and how much he ached to fuck her now, in broad daylight, with the sun playing over her skin.
She fell back against the pillows. “I thought today was a free day. We don’t leave for Italy until tomorrow.”
“I can’t go to Italy with you. Lola…” His jaw clenched against the words. “I have to resign.”
Her seductive gaze melted into confusion. “Why, what happened?”
“You’ve already forgotten?”
“No, I…” She clutched the sheets closer to her chest. “Because of what we did? That means you have to resign?”
“Yes. I behaved unprofessionally. I’m here to do a job, and now I can’t do that job.”
“Because we fucked?”
He let out a slow sigh. “That’s part of it. It’s also that…you know about my past.”
“Who cares? So what? You were homeless or something, and you had to do porn to survive. It happens.”
“That’s not what happened.” He stood and went to the window, and looked out at the Paris skyline. “There was no desperation, no exploitation. I chose to do porn. I thought I was hot shit, fucking for money. I thought I was too good to go to college and get a nine to five job like everyone else in my family. I swanned around those sets like I was king of the world. And once you’re in…”
Once you were in the porn business, they did everything in their power to keep you in the business, to deaden you to the fucked up shit you were doing.
For the rest of his life, he’d have a lightning bolt tattooed on his dick.
“Okay. You chose to do porn,” said Lola. “Whatever. You were young and stupid. I don’t care.”
“I care.” He turned back to her. “I’ve already tendered my resignation. They’ll send someone new in a couple of days.”
“I don’t want someone new. I want you.” She knelt on the bed, her features tense with anger. “Why does the porn thing matter?”
“It mattered to you yesterday. You got pretty angry about it, remember?”
“Yeah, but—”
“It matters because you’ve lost respect for me, and because I slept with you when I shouldn’t have. End of story. I can’t continue to function as your bodyguard after…” God, after all the filthy things they’d done. If she hadn’t known about the porn, he could have stayed in control of their relationship. He could have put her to bed last night with a lecture on promiscuity instead of burying himself inside her three times. Three times.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said. “The sex is nothing. It’s harmless.”
“Meaningless,” he retorted bitterly.
“So? I don’t care.”
“I care,” he said for the second time. He glanced at his watch. “You need to get up. You have an interview downstairs in an hour.”
“What does it matter if we have sex or not? Why does any of this matter?”
“Exactly.” He crossed to her and took her arms, and wished he could shake some sense into her. “You don’t care because you’re an impulsive, short-sighted juvenile. I was too, twenty years ago. I made my first film when I was your age, and I didn’t fucking care.”
She subsided in his grasp, gazing into his eyes. He didn’t want to let her go. What was it about her that made him act this way?
“This shit matters,” he said through his teeth. “What we did last night matters. I was hired to give you some boundaries, to keep you on the straight and narrow. What leverage will I have now? Every time I tell you not to do something, you’re going to throw my past in my face. ‘What right do you have to judge me? You used to make porn.’”
She didn’t say anything, because they both knew he was right.
“I can’t do my job anymore,” he said, letting go of her and turning away. “So I’m leaving as soon as they can find a replacement. In the meantime, no more sex. Put some clothes on, for God’s sake.”
He’d expected her to whine and complain about his decision, but he hadn’t expected her to barrel into him from behind. He almost fell into the window, then turned around to see all five, naked feet of her quivering with rage.
“How dare you?” she said. “How dare you talk to me this way? How dare you dismiss me after everything that happened last night? You enjoyed it as much as I did. I remember you enjoying it quite a bit.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it. I never said I didn’t.”
“Then don’t tell me to put my clothes on.” She gave him another hard shove. “Hold me. Be nice to me. Don’t act like last night was another of Lola’s crazy, misbehaving stunts, because that would make you a massive asshole. Last night…” She burst into tears. “God, Ransom. Last night.”
Damn. She was right. He was being an asshole and she was such a sensitive soul. He took her in his arms, even though it slayed him to hold her. He clasped her against him so tightly that he could feel her shivering anger and grief. To be twenty years old again, and feel everything so strongly. When had that part of him died? By twenty-three? Twenty-four?
He thought, for Lola, it would never die. She was the free spirit who’d always feel things strongly, who’d shove her heart in people’s faces whether they wanted it or not. Maybe that’s why he’d been drawn to her even as she defied and annoyed him. Now she was sobbing against his shoulder, pushing at his suit jacket so he’d take it off.
“Please don’t go,” she begged, opening her hands against his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I can’t work with you anymore.” He had to be the sane one. If he let himself feel as strongly as she felt, they’d melt down together, or combust like the fire they’d created last night. She was so close to him, so hot, so sad, so full of all the emotions he was afraid to show.
“Lola, please,” he said, stroking her hair. “This is crazy. You and me…it’s crazy. You know it is.”
“No.” She shoved away from him, renewed fury shining beneath her tears. “I won’t let you leave. I won’t let you kick me to the curb like some fucking piece of dog shit.” Her voice rose in savage conviction. “If you don’t stay with me, I’ll—I’ll ruin you, Ransom. I’ll call the police. I’ll tell them that you forced me to have sex with you last night. I’ll tell them you raped me.”
He pulled her back, and this time he did shake her. “No more threats, Lola. Don’t you fucking dare.”
“And when you go to jail I’ll get some other bodyguard who doesn’t care about me,” she continued, fighting his grip. “And he’ll let me start using d
rugs again, and I’ll use every drug I can get my hands on without testing any of them. I’ll sleep around with every gross guy I can find. I’ll fuck everyone, and it’ll be all your fault.”
“You were a nympho long before I showed up,” he snapped over her tirade. “It’s just about the sex for you, isn’t it? That’s why you want me to stay.”
“Of course that’s why I want you to stay, you fucking asshole.”
They stared at each other, breathless, wild-eyed combatants. There was a knock at the door, and Don’s abrasive voice. “Lola? Are you up? Answer my fucking texts.”
“I’m up,” she yelled. “Go away.”
“We have to leave soon for the interview.”
This time Ransom yelled along with Lola. “Go away!”
Ransom turned back to her and studied her in the sunlight. He wished he could express the true depth of his regret at leaving, but all she’d hear was that he wanted to stay. He had to be firm, aloof. “I’m sorry, kid. I know it sucks to have to get used to a new bodyguard, but what happened between us can’t be undone.”
“You want me.” Shit, she was groping him through his pants, finding the hard evidence she needed to keep arguing. “I know you want me. Even now.”
“No,” he said, pushing her hands away.
“Please.”
No. He wasn’t falling down that rabbit hole again. He wished he could fuck her a thousand more times, because she was so gorgeous, so responsive, but he couldn’t. He was never going to fuck her again. If he fucked her again, he was lost. Outside the hotel room, Don banged on the door.
“Lola? Lola!”
“Just stay,” she pleaded. “Call your boss and say you’ve changed your mind. At least finish the tour!”
Once again, he told her no.
“Fuck you, then,” she shouted, lashing out at him in her pain. “Leave if you want. Go make more films, you heartless asshole porn star. I don’t fucking care.”
“You do care. We both care.” He backed away from her flailing anger, then caught her hands to make her still. “But this is exactly why I have to leave. You see? I’m not okay with you calling me a porn star every time you get angry. I’m also not your sex slave. You can’t grope me and drag me to your bed—”
“The way you did to me last night?”
“Last night was your fault,” he said, wagging a finger in her face. “Because you threatened to watch my films. You manipulated me.”
She brought her knee up between his legs and almost connected. “That’s not the reason you slept with me. That is not why!”
Don knocked harder. “What’s going on in there?”
“Go away,” she yelled.
“Is Ransom in there?”
Ransom muttered an expletive under his breath, let go of Lola, and went to crack the door. “I’ll have her ready to go downstairs by four o’clock,” he said to the scowling manager. “Now please, just…go the fuck away.” He shut the door in his face. Lola had fled into the bathroom. He heard the shower running over the sound of her pathetic sobs.
“Lola.” He tapped at the door, then tried the lock. “Lola, let me in.”
“No.” The door shuddered from a kick. “If you want to leave, then leave. Fuck you to hell, you fucking asshole. I don’t even want to see your fucking face.”
“Lola.” He could hear her crying on the other side, hear the pain and agony he’d caused her. He’d known he would hurt her, but he hadn’t known it would be this bad. He hadn’t known it would feel like taking a slice out of his own heart. “Lola, please. Don’t be angry. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
She’d never believe it, but he was doing this for her, to protect her. If she was like this after one night of sexual connection, how would she be by the end of the tour? Her sobs wrenched at his soul as he stood with his ear against the barrier between them. Lola, I’m sorry. He was too old for her, too married to his job. She was traveling the world, living in the spotlight. They didn’t have a future. He was supposed to be protecting her, for fuck’s sake, not sleeping with her. It all boiled down to that.
He sat on the edge of her bed until he heard the water turn off. At some point, the crying had stopped, because all he heard now was silence. The lock clicked and the door swung open. She stood in a towel, red-eyed and pink-haired. So emotional. So devastated.
When he opened his arms to her, she leaned her head against his shoulder and drew a shuddery breath. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. “Please…”
“Lola. You’re making this so hard.”
She clung to him. “You can’t leave. I need you.”
Fuck. Fuck the world. Fuck his life. What had he done to deserve this?
But he knew what he’d done. Three times. Three monumental fucks. He silently berated himself as she huddled in his arms. What had he been thinking, to sleep with her? And how could he fix this?
“Lola,” he groaned. “Baby, I have to leave. I can’t keep working on this assignment now that I’ve had you. We crossed a line we’re not allowed to cross. If my boss knew—”
“He won’t find out. I swear I won’t tell anyone. I mean, this is so stupid. If I’d known you’d quit as soon as we had sex…”
“Did you think you could have a bodyguard and fuck buddy rolled into one? It doesn’t work that way.”
“But it’s us,” she said, stamping her foot. “We have something above and beyond your freaking job. Last night…” She gazed at him, tearful and distraught. “You can’t just abandon me. Please stay. Please stay.”
He cared too much now. He’d cared too much from the beginning. He needed to run, and run away fast, but how the fuck was he supposed to do that with Lola sobbing in his arms?
He sighed, knowing he couldn’t leave her, not after these emotional fireworks. He tightened his arms around her, hating the way she weakened him and made him do stupid things.
“If I stay, there can’t be any more sex,” he said. “No flirting, no temptation. That’s the only way it could work.”
She buried her face in his chest. “No sex ever?”
“Not for the rest of the tour. No more diva shit either,” he said against her tousled pink hair. “No more screaming and drama. No throwing my past in my face. You have to promise.”
“I promise. Just please…stay.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I’ll be good. I’ll behave. I swear I won’t do anything to annoy you.”
He put as much stock in her promises as he put in his horrible self-control, but the way she cried, and the way she clung to him…
When she finally left with Don to do the interview, Ransom paced the hotel room a dozen times, then sat at the desk and texted Liam.
On second thought, I’ll finish the tour. It’s only a few more weeks.
CHAPTER NINE
No Feelings. Just Beats.
Lola stared at Ransom’s ass as she jogged along behind him. If not for that gorgeous view, she would have collapsed twenty minutes ago. Her legs hurt. Her feet hurt. Her lungs were burning. Exercise was bullshit and she’d tell him so, if he’d only let her catch her breath.
He glanced back at her. “Doing okay?”
“Fuck you.”
He ignored her and continued jogging along the picturesque path. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to check whether she was keeping up. If she tried to stop, he just looped around and made her start running again.
“I need a break,” she gasped. “I’m about to have a heart attack.”
“You’re doing great.”
“I’m literally dying.”
He stopped with a sigh, and she pulled up too, resting her hands on her knees.
“Come here.” He made her straighten up, and held her arm with one hand while he pressed the other to her neck. She vaguely remembered him doing this once before, as her heart raced and burned in her chest. When she met his gaze, she knew he remembered too. He looked away and dropped his hand.
“You’re not dying. Your puls
e rate is at an optimal level for your age and level of fitness. Cardio, right? Let’s go.”
“No.” She staggered away from him and collapsed on a bench. “You’re my bodyguard. You’re supposed to be protecting me from death, not urging me toward it.”
“You’re not going to die from a jog around a park. Let’s finish it, we’re almost done.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re evil.”
He tilted his head, still running in place. “You wanted me to stay.”
She looked up at him, squinting against the mid-morning sunlight that outlined his tall, muscular body. Of course he’d throw that in her face, remind her how she’d begged and cried to keep him on this tour.
Why? Why had she done that? He wouldn’t give her sex, or even flirt with her. All the physical attraction between them had been redirected into forced exercise and horrific lifestyle changes. He made her drink spinach smoothies and eat broccoli, and go out for morning runs on days she wasn’t performing. She’d weathered two days of headaches in Rome because he made her drink water now instead of diet cola.
Now she was running through a park in Milan wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt that were only ever supposed to be used for sleeping.
“Come on,” he said. “Up. Let’s go. The pain just means it’s working.”
“That isn’t what pain means. I want to go back to the hotel. I want to go to bed.”
He pulled her to her feet just as she said she wanted to go to bed, and his hands on her, his insistent force brought back all the memories. They’d gone to bed together once, and she couldn’t get over it no matter how hard she tried. He could make her run a thousand miles and drink a thousand spinach smoothies, and she still wouldn’t forget the way he’d grasped and caressed her, and shoved inside her until her whole world felt changed.
There was before sex with Ransom, and after sex with Ransom. Everything before paled in comparison, and everything after…
Well, everything after was frustrating as hell. When she looked at his hands, she thought about the delectable way he’d stroked her clit. When she looked at his mouth, she thought about his passionate kisses. When he stood close to her, the way he was now, she thought about how much she wanted to drag him to a bed, any bed.
