Distraction.
Chapter 22
Leighton
Ricky's hands were clammy as they trailed up the sides of my thighs, dragging my dress with them. The caress still caused a damp rush, and I spread my legs an inch farther apart as I rested my forehead on the window. His fingers were long and delicate, but if I concentrated I could imagine they were Haze's strong, flexing hands. But did I want to imagine that Ricky was the man who'd left me, rejected me?
“I've missed you, babe,” Ricky slurred. “I know you don't believe me, but I have.”
“Shut up, Ricky,” I muttered.
I let my breath fog up the window, and for a moment I thought I saw Haze's charcoal gray shirt leaning down behind me. Ricky had shrugged off his white sports coat to reveal the dark blue shirt underneath. I squeezed my eyes shut, and concentrated on the squeezing caress of his hands along my ass.
Hot kisses dropped down my bare back, the low swooping neckline of the dress no barrier to his mouth. I concentrated on the physical sensations, forcing myself to ignore who it was behind me.
“Babe,” Ricky moaned, tucking one hand down the back of my black lace panties.
He rubbed his palm down over my ass, the friction making me warmer, wetter. Cupping me down low he slipped one finger between my legs.
“Is this what you want, babe?” he asked, teasing my hot, slick opening with his finger.
No, I thought. Yes.
My body was throbbing with desire, and I wanted to have sex with him. The only problem was my mind kept conjuring the image of Haze. I imagined him standing behind me, his hand pressed between my splayed legs, one strong arm clamped around my waist as he teased me until I begged for more.
No. I didn't want Haze. He didn't want me. Ricky was an ass, but he wanted me right now, and I wanted to forget that there was someone who didn't.
I moaned and slipped my dress from my shoulders. My nipples pressed against the cool glass, and I writhed under Ricky's exploring hand. He pushed his finger inside me, sliding it in and out. I pressed back against him, needing more.
“Damn, Leighton, slow down,” Ricky mumbled. “You're going to make me explode.”
He fumbled with his pants, struggling to open them one-handed and free his already throbbing erection. When he had to pull out and use his other hand, I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured Haze's rock hard chest. The Celtic sun tattoo around his nipple I'd watched as he first slid deep inside me. The way his muscles rippled under his tanned skin.
Ricky managed to undo his pants and slip my panties down far enough that I could shake them off one leg. I heard the familiar tear of a condom wrapper. At least he wasn't too drunk to remember that. After a moment, he reached around and cupped one breast. He braced the other hand against the glass window, and I felt his cock nudge against me.
I moaned, needing to feel him deep inside me, knowing it was the only way to find the release my body wanted. The only way to forget what had made me first feel this way.
He remembered what we'd had. He kissed me with the same heat I felt before, and then he rejected me.Again.
I didn't need Haze Welch.
“Oh, holy fuck, babe!” Ricky groaned as he thrust inside me.
The hand squeezing my breast slipped down to rest on my waist, the other still pressing to the glass to steady himself. I felt him pumping in and out, never quite reaching where I wanted, never touching the place I longed to feel again.
Ricky was sweating and swearing, about to come, and I tucked a hand down to pleasure myself, knowing I'd never come any other way. Resting my head on my forearm against the glass window, I rubbed my clitoris, stirring the pressure until I was ready to explode.
He came first, shuddering and jerking behind me, and it took everything I had to keep my balance, to keep my own rhythm until I pushed myself over the edge. I shuddered with pleasure, squeezing Ricky still inside me, and he collapsed against my back, pressing us both against the window.
“Oh, yeah,” he moaned. “I missed you, babe.”
Too bad I didn't feel the same.
Chapter 23
Haze
The door was locked. Leighton had shut it in my face and locked it. I raised my fist to hammer on the door but didn't bring it down. It wasn't my place to judge her taste in men. It wasn't my job to stop her from having a private, consensual, moment with her boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend, I thought. Leighton was too good for him and she knew it. She couldn't stay with him. Could she?
I paced the hallway and stopped in front of the door again. I could tell Devlin Pope I suspected Ricky of trying to give Leighton cocaine. Pot was one thing, coke was something else. Her grandfather would agree to me breaking down the door. I yanked my cell phone from my pocket and almost hit speed dial.
Then I heard the sounds coming from the room. They were unmistakable.
Ricky was slurring drunk, but his groans were enough for me to turn and swing at the hallway wall. I stopped my fist inches before smashing open a gaping hole.
“What, you're not going to peep in through the lock?” Paris asked from where she lounged against the corner, pretending she didn't care she had been left behind. Her eyes were bloodshot and she slid closer to me, using the wall for support.
“I bet if we go outside, we could watch through the window,” she grinned.
The sound of Leighton's moan made it clear that whatever was happening in there was definitely consensual. And I knew from our kiss that while she was drunk, she wasn't technically too far gone to say yes. I just apparently had higher standards than Ricky.
I still wanted to break down the door and drag her out of there.
Except, Leighton would never forgive me. I'd rejected her twice. Once when I'd left her in that hotel room, and a few minutes ago, when I told her she was too drunk. If I added breaking down a door and barging in on her and Ricky, she'd have just cause never to speak to me again. And I wasn't sure I could handle that.
My only solace was the sounds weren't long-lived. Once Paris shuffled away and things were relatively quiet, I waited for Leighton to come out. The minutes stretched into an hour and I paced, trying to figure out how to avoid stumbling over my words.
How could I tell her I'd left the first time to protect her? That I'd felt the connection between us and I'd known I couldn't go with my team into hostile territory and fight for months on end knowing I'd left her behind. I'd known that if I'd stayed, if I'd even seen her one more time, I'd be lost. I'd thought that making her hate me would hurt less than having her care about me and having something happen to me over there.
She'd never believe that. And it hadn't helped me at all. Every day I'd seen her. Every night, she'd slipped into some corner of my dreams. I'd hoped to make a clean break for myself too, but she'd already been a part of me. Even seeing her as she was, this vapid, self-absorbed princess hadn't changed anything.
Hours passed and the party ended. Guests were passed out here and there. The other private rooms taken and locked. I found a chair and placed it square across from the door, figuring I'd wait it out, but I couldn't sit for more than a few minutes at a time.
Her kiss had been like a life-giving jolt of adrenaline, reminding me of everything I'd walked away from. I marched up and down the hallway, trying to outpace my anger. Leighton would never believe that I hadn't rejected her. She'd never think that I was trying to do the right thing. Now, having seen her boyfriend up close, I realized she didn't recognize chivalry for what it was.
When I kissed Leighton and finally faced what I'd felt four years ago, I hadn't wanted to take things further until I knew for sure she was clear-headed enough to have this conversation.
An hour later, I settled on the chair and crossed my arms tightly across my chest. The sun would be up in an hour, and Leighton was sleeping off her hangover in someone else's luxury bed. If I hadn't sent her grandfather a message hours before, he would have worried about her all night. Leighton never thought about that. She w
as too selfish to realize the sleepless nights she caused people who cared for her.
People like her grandfather, her brother. Like me.
No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't push that truth away. I suspected Leighton would edge open that door at any time now and roll her eyes when she saw me. It wouldn't matter to her that I'd spent the night awake in the hallway. She'd never think to ask if I'd contacted her grandfather. All that mattered was her own little world.
A world where I was nothing more to her than a servant to be bossed around. To be used. It didn't matter how she'd looked at me that night, how I'd thought she felt. It was clear where my place was, and it wasn't with her. No matter how much I wanted to believe that what she said during that kiss had meant something, I knew it hadn't. Just like I didn't mean anything to her.
When the door finally opened and Leighton emerged, she didn't even acknowledge me. I followed her to the car and opened the passenger side door for her without a word. She slipped inside and dug out a dark pair of sunglasses. I shut the door, and in the short walk around to the driver's side I made a decision.
As soon as we returned to her grandfather's house, I was telling Devlin Pope that I quit.
Chapter 24
Haze
“No big lectures,” Leighton snarked as I parked the car in her grandfather's garage. “I'm impressed.”
“Your decisions are your own,” I said flatly. “As long as you're not in danger, I don't need to interfere.”
“And what did you decide to do last night?” she asked.
“I did my job.”
“You stayed outside that door all night.”
It wasn't a question or an accusation, just a confirmation of what she already knew. I watched her for signs of regret or embarrassment, but there were none. Leighton was stone-faced and sober.
“You kissed me,” I said.
The words left me shocked, but Leighton didn't seem surprised. I couldn't read her behind the dark sunglasses, but her mouth didn't even twitch. I knew she hadn't been drunk enough to completely forget, but I didn't know how hazy the memory was.
“Yeah, well, we all make mistakes.”
Okay, then. At least now I knew.
“Me included,” I said. “That's why I’m quitting.”
Leighton yanked open her car door and got out. I opened my door and remembered just in time not to tilt my head too far as I got out. The last thing I needed now was a sickening wave of vertigo. It'd happened last night when we kissed, and I was actually glad it had. I didn't know if I could've stopped kissing her on my own. I'd wanted her more than I ever wanted anyone in my life.
A smirk flickered across her tired face. “I don't know about you quitting, Mr. Welch. You might lose some of Devlin's respect that way. You know, good people are supposed to see things through until the end, right?”
“Is that what you're doing?” I asked. “Seeing things through to the end?”
The words sounded harsh, but I didn't call them back.
“What end?” she asked darkly. “This is going to be my whole life.”
She walked away toward the house, holding herself too straight. I watched her, wondering if it was the inevitable hangover, or a different kind of hurt. Was she upset that I said I was leaving? Would it matter to her if I stayed or left?
I followed her into the house, forcing myself to keep my steps slow. I wanted to catch up to her, tear those sunglasses from her eyes, and see what she really thought. Maybe it was all an act. She thought she was supposed to play a certain part, the stereotype of a spoiled, rich girl in Los Angeles. She didn't believe anyone, including her grandfather, thought she could be anything else.
My resolve weakened. It didn't matter what she'd done. I hated the thought of her hurting.
“Leighton?” I called as she walked down the hall ahead of me. “Ms. Machus.”
I had no idea what to say except that I wanted more from her, for her. She'd probably laugh at me, ask me why she should care what I thought, but before I left I had to tell her I knew she could be more.
“Leave her,” Devlin said, opening the French doors from his office. “Some of that fancy water, vitamins and a few sleeping pills, and she'll be right as rain by tonight. Just in time for you to have to chase her out and around again.”
As much as I didn't like it, I had no choice but to let Leighton go and follow my employer into his office. He was a busy man, and I could tell he'd been up working for hours, if he'd ever gone to bed to begin with. Despite running an empire that kept him busy day and night, there wasn't much that escaped his notice. Devlin deserved to know right away that I planned to leave.
Before I could speak, however, he held up his hand to stop me and said, “I know, I know. You're giving notice. You want to quit.”
“Yes, Sir, I apologize for the inconvenience,” I said.
“I don't accept and you're not leaving,” he countered mildly.
He marched around the other side of his desk and flipped through a stack of papers. He pulled out a folder and placed it in front of him before crossing his arms and looking at me.
Not surprising, but that didn't mean I was going to let it go. “I'm sorry, sir, I just don't think I'm the best person to guard your granddaughter.”
“Because you met Leighton four years ago when you saved her from drowning?” Devlin asked, eyes sparking. “Because you slept with her that night?”
I dropped down in the chair Devlin indicated and gritted my teeth. He could've only gotten that information from one place. “Paris Lockhart told you.”
“Yes, I got a call from Paris last night,” Devlin said. “I made a few calls. It wasn't hard to confirm enough of the basics to know she was telling the truth.”
Shit. Well, there went any chance I had of ever returning to active duty. Devlin could pull strings and make sure I never got near the military ever again.
“Please accept my resignation, sir,” I said. “There are plenty of qualified men in personal security. I'm positive you can find someone with more experience than me. Someone without my...history.”
“I won't find someone else because you're not quitting,” he said. “I need someone with your finely honed ability to suss out other people's motives. I need someone with your hand-to-hand combat training, your instincts, your quick-thinking, and your dedication to your mission. And you've already proven that you'll save my granddaughter in life-threatening situations.”
“With all due respect, sir, Leighton is more adept at surviving in Los Angeles than me,” I continued to argue. “I'm sure there's someone else who knows the territory better than me and will blend in with Leighton's lifestyle easier.”
“Tell me.” He leaned over his desk. “Did you consider breaking down the door and dragging her away from that little bastard she sometimes calls her boyfriend?”
Of course Paris would have included that tidbit in her trouble-making phone call. I gripped my knees and said nothing.
“Exactly,” he said. “That's why I won't accept your resignation. I need someone who truly cares for Leighton, someone who will truly fight to keep her safe, but knows when to draw the line between protecting her and letting her make her own mistakes.”
“Safe from what?” I didn't like the sound of that.
“These.” He opened a folder on his desk and spread out a thick stack of threats. Almost all of the letters mentioned Leighton by name. The most recent mentioned dates, times, locations, and details of what she was wearing. It was obvious someone was watching Leighton. What exactly that meant was unclear, but one thing was certain: Leighton's life was in danger.
End of HERO Book 1: The Assignment. The story continues in Book 2, HERO: The Ambush, release December 1st. CLICK HERE to sign up to my newsletter and get an email notification on release day.
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Acknowledgement
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
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About The Author
MS Parker
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privè and Chasing Perfection.
Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing.
Hero - The Assignment: A Military Romance Page 17
