by Jamie Pope
He needed to remember that here he was her boyfriend.
But the fact that he was getting paid a very large sum of money to keep her safe was never far from his mind.
He was finding it difficult balancing the two roles. He was having a hard time remembering what a couple should look like. His parents didn’t have a model marriage. His father was a drunk. His mother was always scrounging around, trying to make ends meet. They claimed they loved each other, but even as a boy he knew that that’s not what love should be.
As an adult, he stayed away from long-term romantic entanglements. There were a few women he would visit while he was on leave. Some women he had just dated for one night. He had never been someone’s partner as an adult. He hadn’t spent any time around loving couples.
He was assuming a role he had done no research for.
He knew there should be simple affection between two people who were seriously involved. Hugging. Kissing. Touching. It wasn’t something he was used to.
He had been physical with the women he had kept company with. At night. In bed. There was never time or need to do anything else.
Wyn was different from him. She seemed to know what to do. He had been a leader, a decision-maker for a very long time now, the one who was always in control, but he had to defer to her on this. He brought her to his adopted family and he was going to need her to pull this thing off.
When she snuggled up to him last night at first, it was a shock. Not the act itself, but the way it felt. She was so incredibly soft. Her skin. Her curves. Her scent.
Her heart.
He had nearly broken her wrist yesterday. He wasn’t a spiritual man, but he thanked God that he had woken up before he did. He could barely look at her, he was so consumed with guilt, but she had forgiven him. She snuggled close to him and rested her head on his chest. She had even fallen asleep there. That was trust. That was her feeling safe, when part of him felt like a monster.
He would be fooling himself if he said he didn’t like the way she felt. He went to bed that night with her scent lingering on his clothes and the heat of her body still warming him. He missed the softness as he lay in bed alone. It had been far too long since he had had a woman. He shouldn’t be this affected by her.
“Cullen?” she called to him. He was in the back of the house in the little sitting area he created so he could look out into the rain forest.
He stood up. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Stop that.” She sat down. “I hate it when you call me ma’am.”
“Yes, lass,” he said softly, correcting himself.
She smiled at him and stepped forward, handing him a mug and small bowl. “I brought you some coffee and some fruit. There’s a big pot of oatmeal at the community house if you’re hungry. I set out nuts, berries, and brown sugar if you want to make it more special.”
“Is that where you were this morning when I woke up?”
She nodded.
“You damn near gave me an apoplectic fit.”
“No one is going to kidnap me here. Hell, no one was going to kidnap me in D.C. You can relax.”
“We both know I can’t.” Not around her. It was impossible. She made every part of him feel like he was about to fall off a cliff.
“Try,” she urged. “Sit back down. Your friends are going to think I’m a horrible girlfriend if you continue to be so uncomfortable around me.”
He sank back down in his seat and she sat beside him, not as close as yesterday. Not snuggled up and pressed into him. “I’m not supposed to be touching you.”
“This was your idea.”
He placed the coffee mug and the fruit on the table beside him. “Don’t remind me.”
“I’m sorry this has been such a hardship for you.”
“It’s not a damn hardship. I’m just not supposed to touch you.” He would get used to it. He would like it. He would be in trouble. “I get paid to protect you. Not paw you.”
“You shouldn’t flinch every time either.”
“Do I flinch? I don’t mean to. I’ve never had a principal kiss me.”
“Who was your last principal?”
“An arms dealer. He was hairy as a goat and had a gut the size of a keg.”
“Why don’t you work for him anymore?”
“He’s dead,” he said emotionlessly, even though he sometimes dreamed about that night. “Assassinated by a sniper using one of the guns my principal sold.”
“Were you there when it happened?”
He nodded, not wanting to go into any of the details with her. It was weeks before he stopped feeling the spray of blood that hit his cheek when the bullet went through the man’s head.
“I’m not important enough to be assassinated.”
“But you are important. You are your father’s world. He doesn’t want me to let you out of my sight.”
“I find it hard to reconcile that with the fact that he rarely saw me while I was growing up and now he refuses to speak to me at all. It’s a very funny way of showing someone that they are your world.”
The hurt in her voice was clear. It was uncomfortable for him. He didn’t know how to deal with it. He took her hand in his. It was small, her skin smooth. He ran his fingertips over her palm. “I’ll be better,” he told her. “I’ll just need to get used to this.” He looked at her. He hadn’t failed to notice how she looked when she walked up. He had just tried to ignore it. But it was hard. Instead of her subdued neutral colors, she wore a pink sundress. If any color was made for a woman, soft baby pink was made for her.
Her hair was loose. Her arms and shoulders were bare, all her rich brown skin on display. He had been with this woman every single day for the past year, but it was like it was sitting next to someone he had just met and now he was touching her. He wasn’t at all sure he made the right decision to bring her here.
“Kingsley is in love with Jazz, isn’t he?”
He looked up at her. “Aye. Very much so. How could you tell?”
“It was something small. At dinner last night she was asking him to help her fix something and King nodded and leaned over to kiss the side of her face. It was like he couldn’t help but to kiss her in that moment. And the way he looks at her . . . Every woman wants to be looked at like that.”
“Jazz doesn’t know, or rather she doesn’t want to admit it. She just thinks he’s her best mate.”
“Is that why you and Jazz were never an item?”
“Yes.” He was surprised at how perceptive she was. She had only been there twenty-four hours and yet she knew what even the other members of their little community never figured out. “You don’t date the woman your friend is in love with.”
“She loves him too. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“He saved her. Five years ago, someone was hurting her and he saved her. She’s loyal to him.”
“It’s more than loyal. She loves him too.”
She sounded so sure. But he had known these people for years. He knew things about King that she would never know. “How can you tell? You just said that she was in love with me.”
“She’s attracted to you. And she does love you, but not in the same way she loves King. She let herself be kissed last night. Her guard was down and she leaned into it. Her eyes closed just for a fraction of a second and she relished it. It was beautiful.”
“You’re a linguist. How do you know so much about behavior?”
“I like to watch people. My father is such a public figure, but he has made sure that my life was lived in private. I had private dance lessons and private horseback riding lessons and private language lessons. I went to school with kids my own age, but I never got to just hang out with them. I spent a lot of time with adults, with the people who worked for my parents. Our housekeeper, Marta, used to take me home with her when both of my parents were out of town. They still don’t know about it. My bodyguard never told them. I’m not sure why.”
“He seemed more loyal to you than the man who
was paying him.”
“I think he could see that I needed some normal in my life.” She smiled softly at the memory. “Marta had a huge family and I used to just watch them. Watch how they interacted with each other. Watch how they would hold hands and hug and kiss each other. It was so different from my family. It made me want to watch anybody I came in contact with and when I began to study languages, I studied the people and the cultures associated with them. The ways people say I love you. The words they use when they are happy. How they react when they are mad.”
“Is that why you like to translate during interrogations? I heard you say that a few of them were innocent. I wasn’t sure how you could tell.”
“I didn’t know for sure. It was a feeling.”
They were quiet for a moment, the only noise coming from the nature around them and their soft breathing.
“How are you feeling today?”
He touched her wrist, where he had grabbed her yesterday. He still felt guilty about it. He had slept with his door locked for the first time, afraid he would get up or she would come in. “I’m in paradise. But all I can think about is what is going on at home. I haven’t missed a day of work in the last four years. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“So, you make oatmeal for my friends?”
She nodded. “They’ve all got to eat and I need something to do.”
“You should enjoy yourself.”
“How do I do that? I’m not sure how.”
“We’re on an island. Let’s go to the beach.”
* * *
Wynter hadn’t realized how much land Cullen and his crew owned, but it stretched all the way to the ocean and a little private beach that was just theirs to enjoy. She thought they were going to a public beach with everyone else, and even though it was on a small, usually quiet island, she had been filled with anxiety about being around people, mainly American tourists who might recognize her.
Cullen told her that she needed to relax, but she was finding it hard to. Her thoughts of what was happening at home were never far from her mind.
“You okay, sis?” Kingsley asked her as she stood beside him at the back of the jeep. The men were unloading their supplies. Blankets, chairs, the coolers full of food and drinks she and King had prepared before they left. Their homes weren’t far from the beach. It would have been easy for them to go back for food, but Cullen told them they were going to spend the day by the water. They all agreed. Even Jack came. He had brought a boat with him and some Jet Skis. They were supposed to have fun today. Wyn tried to think back to the last time she had this kind of fun, but her mind was blank.
She couldn’t remember her last vacation.
“I’m fine, King. I’m just a little nervous about the Jet Ski.”
“You don’t have to ride.” He wrapped his arm around her in a brotherly way. “I won’t get on one of those damn things either.”
“I’ve seen you jump out of an exploding building,” Cullen said to him with a frown. “But the Jet Ski is the thing that causes you to tap out? For fuck’s sake, man.”
“He’s three hundred pounds of muscle,” Wyn said, defending him. “I think he would sink like a rock in the water.”
“Yeah.” Kingsley nodded. “My body was made for fighting. Not for floating.”
“When’s the last time you trained?” Cullen asked.
King shrugged. “I don’t need to train. I’m done with that life.”
“You never know what can go down,” Cullen said cryptically.
“I can still kick your skinny Irish ass with one leg and both hands tied behind my back.” King shook his head. “You should have gotten out sooner. You’re still in that mind-set. That’s why we have this place. So you don’t have to be on watch anymore.”
Cullen nodded, but Wyn knew that he couldn’t let his guard down because he was her guard. He had brought his work home with him and it would be hard for him to relax. She felt bad for him, but at the same time she didn’t. He didn’t have to bring her here, to his friends. She was supposed to be pretending that they were lovers. And yet he flinched whenever they touched. Like her contact was unwanted.
This morning he had to practice holding her hand. He was impossibly gentle with her, lightly trailing his fingers up and down her skin.
When she first met him, she would have never described him as gentle. But he had surprised her. He always was gentle with her. She couldn’t count when he had grabbed her wrist, because that wasn’t fair. He didn’t know it was her and when he did know, he cradled her wrist. He held it lightly in his large hands; he had even kissed it that night.
Who could think that a kiss to the wrist could feel so good?
She couldn’t help but to wonder how he was with his lovers. He was dark and quiet and intense.
He always was so in control, of his emotions, of his reactions.
But was he passionate? Did he ever lose himself?
Did he ever push women against walls and kiss them until they dissolved into goop? Did he rip at their clothes?
Or was his more controlled?
Stripping away each item.
One by one.
Not breaking eye contact until they were nude and she was quivering for his touch.
Wyn’s body heated up, but it had nothing to do with the sun. “Are you sure you’re okay, Wynter?” Cullen asked her and she couldn’t miss the touch of concern in his voice.
No, she wasn’t okay. She was thinking about him in ways she shouldn’t. “I’m just feeling a little warm. I think I’ll head for the water.”
She stepped slightly away from the men and took off her cover-up. She had never felt comfortable in a bathing suit, but today she felt extra-exposed. She wore a bikini for the first time. Jazz had picked it out. It wasn’t horribly revealing. Her bottom was covered for the most part. But the top was held together with a bow tied in the center of her breasts. Just one pull and she would be exposed. When she mentioned her fear to Jazz, Jazz just smiled and told her that was the fun part of it.
And for the first time she felt like being a little adventurous, mischievous. But now she was wondering if she had made a mistake.
“Wait for me,” Cullen ordered. His eyes took her in, but his face was completely unreadable. She wondered what he thought.
She told herself it didn’t matter what he thought of her in it, but she still wondered.
He turned slightly away and stripped off his shirt, revealing his hard shoulders and chest. It was her turn to stare. As his girlfriend, she was supposed to have seen his body before. But that was pretend. She had never seen him before. She had never seen the trails of scars that lined his back.
She tried to keep her face neutral, but she wasn’t sure she could manage it. Those were no run-of-the-mill scars. She could see where he had been shot, but it was the long, band-like scars that snaked up his back that made her chest ache.
He had been tortured.
She knew so little of his time before he came to her. But it must have been brutal. It made her problems seem so damn small.
“Come.” She reached for his hand. He took it, sliding his fingers into hers without a flinch this time. They walked down to the water silently. Her heart was pounding. She wouldn’t look into his eyes, too afraid that her own might betray her feelings.
He would hate her feeling bad for him. But the thought of anyone in pain made her feel sick.
The water was warm. There was no brief shock of cold. It felt like a bath waiting to welcome her. He led her deeper and deeper into the water, away from the shore, away from his friends, away from where her feet could touch the bottom. “I can’t stand.”
“Grab onto me.” He wrapped her legs around his waist. Her arms looped around his neck and her breasts pressed to his chest. “Did Jazz pick out your bathing suit?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“It’s not something you would pick out for yourself.”
“You don’t like it?”
&
nbsp; “I like it just fine,” he said gruffly. “I was counting on you coming out here in a tan one-piece. Not this.”
“Why does it matter what kind of bathing suit I wear?”
“It took me by surprise, is all.”
“Why?”
“Your body . . . It’s unexpected.”
“I didn’t think I looked so bad, but the fact that you dragged me out here where no one can see me has me rethinking that.”
“I didn’t drag you out here because you look bad. For fuck’s sake. I dragged you out here because I didn’t want my friends staring at you. You look like one of those girls in the magazines that I used to keep hidden under my mattress as a boy.”
His accent grew thicker and she smiled and buried her face in his shoulder. Her nose brushed against one of his scars. Her smile faded as she thought about how he had acquired it.
“Jack’s head swung around so fast, I thought his neck would break,” he said, sounding annoyed. “He’s one of my best mates, but don’t spend too much time with him.”
“Do you really think he would try to seduce your girlfriend?”
“If he thinks there’s no love between us, he will.”
“I would never cheat. It’s such a violation.”
“But we’re not really a couple. You wouldn’t be cheating.”
“If I violated your trust I would be cheating. Even if we aren’t sleeping together, there’s a relationship there. You’re the only person I can trust right now and I want you to trust me.”
He made a low noise in his throat. “You’re a good woman, Wyn.”
They stood there for a little while in quiet. Wyn felt guilty for enjoying his closeness. It was fake. A show for his friends, but she liked the way his body felt against hers. Hard against soft.
And the way his hands felt on her waist: clamped on. Possessive. She liked it more than she wanted to admit.
She liked the way he smelled too, like soap and salt water and sunscreen.
The ocean was warm. The sun was gently beating down on them and for a moment she had forgotten who they were and why they were here. It just felt nice to be the center of one person’s attention.
