July Flames: A Rock Star Bodyguard Romance (Wilder Irish Book 7)

by Mari Carr

  He was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if he’d press her for more. It was a relief—and a disappointment—when he asked, “Where’s the other?”

  She turned to face him, enjoying his brief look of surprise when she unfastened the button of her cut-off jean shorts. She didn’t need to lower the zipper. She lifted her shirt a few inches as she pulled the hem of her shorts down an inch or so.

  Fergus appeared to like the up-close-and-personal tour of her tats. He dropped back down into his chair, his knees outstretched so that she stood between them. He took over, holding her shirt up and away. “What is it?”

  “It’s a Celtic design that represents strength.” This one, unlike the colorful butterfly, was smaller and simpler, inked only with thin black lines.

  “I like it. It suits you.”

  “I got it after I caught my ex with my mom. I walked out of our apartment and drove straight to the tattoo parlor. Probably not the smartest thing to do. Get a tattoo in the heat of the moment, but I needed…”

  “Strength,” he finished. “Do you regret getting it?”

  Aubrey shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

  They remained there, quiet for a few moments more, Fergus still looking at the tattoo riding low on her hip. Part of her longed for him to close the distance and kiss it.

  Tension—purely sexual—hovered in the air around them. The temperature on the bus suddenly felt unbearable, and her insides quivered.

  Fergus had been the definition of professional, a gentleman. Yet there was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on, that told her he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

  And as certain as she was of that fact, she was just as sure he would never act on that desire. Would never cross that line.

  If she were a better person, she wouldn’t feel the overwhelming urge to tempt him.

  “Truth or dare?” she whispered.

  He glanced up at her, then slowly lowered her shirt, shifting away.

  “Truth,” he chose again.

  She snickered lightly. “Coward.”

  Fergus shook his head. “Wise.”

  Aubrey returned to the couch, thinking about what she wanted to ask. The main question she wanted an answer to slipped out before she could think better of it. “Since you don’t have a serious girlfriend, I’m curious. When was the last time you had sex?”

  Fergus, true to character, never blinked twice. “August.”

  “It’s the beginning of June now. That was a long time ago. Who was she?”

  “My first response wasn’t a yes or no.”

  She grinned. “But it was a one-word answer. Those always allow for follow-up questions.”

  Fergus stood, coming to sit next to her on the couch. “Now I know you’re cheating. But I also know you’ll keep asking until you get your response, so in the interest of moving the game along…her name was Jeanne. She and I went through basic training together, which was where we first hooked up. Our military paths diverged from there, but whenever we ran into each other, we got together. We were compatible lovers.”

  Aubrey crinkled her nose. “Compatible sounds boring,” she teased.

  Fergus didn’t laugh, but she could tell he didn’t take offense either. “Compatible in this case means she would let me handcuff her wrists together, bend her over the nearest flat surface, spank her ass and fuck her from behind.”

  Aubrey sucked in a deep breath, perfectly aware that Fergus heard her gasp.

  “Oh,” she said. If every inch of her being wasn’t focused on the forceful clenching of her pussy, she might have tried for more words. She couldn’t spare the energy. Instead, she was wondering if, one, she had time to pay a visit to her vibrator, and two, if she did, would Fergus hear her and—please God—join her in her bedroom?

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I prefer to be in control—in and out of the bedroom.”

  She wished she had the strength to smile, but every single thing he said merely turned her on more. She could understand his desire for power. Aubrey had spent too much of her adult life struggling to hold on to control. It was exhausting, but with no one she could trust to rely on, she’d had no choice. The idea of giving Fergus control over her—even if it was just her body in the bedroom—sounded like heaven.

  Aubrey swallowed heavily, fighting to shake free of whatever spell he’d cast on her. “I don’t need anyone to con—”

  He chuckled. “You need it most of all.”

  Their gazes were locked, neither of them denying the truth of what he’d just said. She could scoff, dismiss it as bullshit, but he’d know she was lying.

  Then what would he do?

  Punish me.

  The thought of Fergus punishing her every time she behaved like a brat shook her to the core…and made her long for something she’d never dreamed of.

  “Truth or dare,” Fergus murmured. It figured he’d get into the game just as she was struggling to recall her own name.

  “Truth,” she said, before recalling that wasn’t what she wanted. “I mean da—”

  “No. Rules state you have to stick with your first choice.”

  She laughed, albeit weakly, when Fergus decided to do a little cheating of his own. “Fine.”

  “What are your hard limits?”

  Aubrey opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Were they talking about having sex? Was he propositioning her, or was this still part of the game?

  When the silence stretched too long, Fergus broke it. “Do you understand the question?”

  She nodded. “I…can’t…think of any.” It probably didn’t help that her experience with the type of sex play he was discussing was limited to…none.

  Suddenly, all she could see was Fergus, binding her to the bed, blindfolding her, spanking her, taking parts of her that had never been touched before.

  This was the most sexually charged moment of her life, and Fergus hadn’t even kissed her, hadn’t touched her except for that soft brushing stroke on her shoulder. God, all he’d done was talk to her, plant seeds, draw pictures. He should be the songwriter, not her.

  “Do you want to hear mine?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t whip women with anything other than my hand. I don’t humiliate them. And I don’t share.”

  She realized her lack of knowledge had impacted her hard limits response. “I don’t think I know enough to fully answer your question.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  She didn’t like the dismissive tone in his voice. It suggested that he didn’t consider her the type of woman he could dominate in the bedroom.

  “Truth or dare,” she countered before he could end the game and walk away.

  “Dare.”

  “Kiss me.”

  He shook his head even before she’d finished issuing the dare. “No. The game stops here.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  Aubrey didn’t want to admit that she did. If they kissed, it wouldn’t stop there. It would carry over to her bedroom, where she’d let him test every single one of those hard limits he was curious about. And while her body was screaming out for that, her chest started to grow tight, fear creeping in.

  He reached over and cupped her cheek, the sexy, brooding man she’d been playing the game with vanishing, replaced by safe, friendly Fergus again. “The things I ask of my lovers require absolute trust, Aubrey.”

  Aubrey hated that fucking word. “I can’t…give you…that.”

  He smiled kindly, and she thought maybe even sadly. “I know.”

  Chapter Five

  Fergus jerked awake at the sound of a cry. Or was it a scream?

  Joel, the bus driver, looked at him. “Sounds like Aubrey’s having another one of her nightmares.”

  She cried out again.

  “She has nightmares?” Fergus asked.

  Joel nodded. “Hasn’t had one of them since you hopped onboard. Was sort of hoping having y
ou close by was helping her. I don’t mention them to her anymore because I think it embarrasses her. She’s had half a dozen or so since joining the tour. Just a heads-up. She’ll be meaner than a wet hen tomorrow.”

  Fergus stood up.

  “What are you doing?” Joel asked.

  “Checking on her.”

  The driver shook his head. “Seriously, man. I don’t think she’ll thank you for that.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Joel had obviously taken some serious abuse at Aubrey’s hands in the past few months. Enough to steer clear. Fergus didn’t blame him for that. During his first week, he’d seen her lash out at countless people, so he understood why so many members of the cast and crew still kept their distance, even though Aubrey was trying to be nicer.

  After the attack on Dave, she seemed to realize the best way to keep those around her safe was to practice kindness. It had taken him a few days to recognize that was what she was doing, and then a couple days more before it occurred to him that being nice came more naturally to her than the bitch routine.

  He’d also met the ex, Doug, a couple of days ago, and while he hadn’t discounted the man as a suspect, he understood why she had…and maybe even why she’d considered marrying him. He was exactly what she’d described—a goofy, good-natured, shaggy-haired, hippie-looking…dude.

  God knew he’d said that word enough to convince Fergus that’s what he was.

  Fergus had caught him backstage during Aubrey’s show and escorted him to an empty dressing room, where he’d interrogated the man. Doug claimed he’d slipped one of the security guards—some really chill dude he couldn’t name or describe—a twenty to gain entrance.

  Doug had been clueless about the accidents—and visibly sad about Dave, whom he’d met and considered a seriously cool dude—and had no flowers with him. Doug had jumped at the chance to leave Aubrey a note, clueless Fergus wanted it for a handwriting sample, and not because he was being a totally awesome dude for offering to pass the missive along.

  Aubrey had been right. The writing samples didn’t match. More than that, the poor bastard didn’t even know how to spell the word “together,” penning “togther” instead.

  Even the stalker knew how to spell.

  Doug had teared up, asking if Fergus thought he had a chance of winning her back. When Fergus said no, Doug crumpled, shaking his head and blaming himself for being such a stupid dude, and swearing the thing with Aubrey’s mom had been a one-time thing and the biggest mistake of his life.

  Fergus had actually found the guy sort of funny and exactly as Aubrey described—dim-witted, harmless, affable enough.

  She cried out again as he walked the length of the bus to reach the door to her bedroom.

  Now that he understood her fear of being hurt again was what drove her to push people away, leaving her to fight her demons on her own would only convince her that she really was completely alone in the world.

  He knocked quietly on her closed bedroom door. “Aubrey?”

  Silence.

  He said her name again.

  “Go away.”

  Typical response. Ever since their Truth or Dare game, Aubrey had pulled away from him, determined to resume the distance she’d maintained during his first week as her bodyguard. Mercifully, she hadn’t returned to calling him Rottweiler, though he thought he might prefer that to this polite stranger routine they’d fallen into.

  “No,” he said.

  It was quiet again. He considered his next move. He wouldn’t walk into her bedroom uninvited. That was the quickest way to take two steps back in this game he was playing to win her trust. Three weeks into the gig and in a lot of ways, it felt like they were still at day one.

  Before he’d had too long to think, she said, “Come in.”

  He opened the door to find her sitting up in bed, wearing a light pink T-shirt with a kitten on it. It was surprisingly playful when compared to her usual take-no-prisoners personality.

  “You okay?” he asked from the doorway.

  She gestured around the room. “No bad guys.”

  He hadn’t thought there were. He’d done a thorough check of the bus before allowing her to board it.

  “Bad dream?”

  Joel hadn’t lied. Aubrey didn’t like admitting to the nightmares.

  “I let you in to see I’m fine. Now go away.”

  Fergus leaned on the doorjamb. “Want to talk about it?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No. I don’t.”

  “I have bad dreams too,” he admitted. “Was stationed in the Middle East for a few years with the Army. Saw some things that just won’t leave me alone when I close my eyes. Funny how things that seem tolerable in the daytime can haunt you in your sleep.”

  She studied his face a few moments before nodding. “Yeah. That’s true.”

  Then she surprised him by picking up a notebook and pen from her bedside table, quickly jotting something down.

  “Diary?” he joked.

  She shook her head and continued writing. “No. Song ideas. Haunted dreams,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She even hummed a few notes that certainly fit the emotion.

  “You think and feel in music, don’t you? My aunt Teagan is the same. We’ll be in the middle of a normal conversation and then boom, she disappears for a few hours to strum her guitar and put lyrics and melody to a feeling.”

  “You know, I’m a huge Teagan Collins fan,” Aubrey admitted. “I bet I’ve listened to her songs a million times in my life. She inspired me to start writing my own music.”

  He grinned. “Maybe I’ll have a chance to introduce you. She’ll be in Baltimore for the final concert on the Fourth of July.”

  “Ailis told me. I’m excited about that…and also terrified. It’s sort of intimidating to sing in front of your idol.”

  “Don’t be scared. Teagan is the sweetest, gentlest soul on the planet. Ailis is a lot like her. She and my uncle Sky are amazing. Talented.”

  “You never had any musical ambitions?”

  Fergus shook his head. “I appreciate music more than I can say. It really drives my mood, either to energize me when I’m working out, or to make me feel better on a down day. But nope, no skills. Can’t sing. Can’t play a musical instrument. My mom pushed me to do piano lessons, but that didn’t last more than a few months. I think my dads were happier than I was when she said I could quit. Figured if I couldn’t manage “Skip to My Lou” after six months of lessons it was never going to happen, and they were sick of listening to me fuck it up constantly.”

  “Dads? I didn’t get the sense your parents were divorced. So your mom remarried?”

  “No.” Fergus had learned from a very young age that there were three types of people in the world: the ones who accepted his parents’ unusual lifestyle, the ones who disapproved outright, and then, the worst kind—the ones who pretended to think it was okay, but made jokes about it behind their backs. “My mom is legally married to my dad, Killian. But she’s also—not officially—married to my daddy, Justin. They’ve been in a committed threesome for thirty years.”

  “You have three parents?”

  Fergus nodded, waiting to see which camp Aubrey would fall into.

  “Wow. Lucky you. I don’t have any.”

  Her sad words reminded him why he was there. “What was the dream about, Aubrey?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  He started to ask again, but she shrugged. “Seriously,” she continued. “It’s always the same dream, and it’s always nothing. I’m in a dark room. No, not dark. Pitch-black. I can’t see anything, not even my hand in front of my face. I’m roaming around, trying to find a door or window, but there’s nothing. No walls. Just endless darkness. I walk around in the dark with my hands out and there’s nothing there. I’m trapped in nowhere.”

  She rubbed her chest and he could see she was getting worked up again.

  “I start to panic, running around, my hands out, searchin
g for a way to escape.”

  He stepped into the room, wanting very much to take her in his arms, to console her. He crossed to her bed, standing next to her, hesitating.

  Fergus wasn’t the type to hold himself back, especially not when a woman needed comforting, but Aubrey was a trickier case. Prickly as a cactus and skittish as a newborn colt.

  Even her tattoos felt like contradictions. Her need for strength was a direct contrast to her desire to fly away.

  She looked up at him. “The first day you were here, you stood outside the bus. Ailis ran to you, and you hugged her.”

  Fergus hadn’t realized she’d been watching. “Yes.”

  “It looked nice.”

  That was all he needed to hear.

  Fergus sat on the edge of her bed. Before she could pull away, he tugged her toward him, engulfing her in a tight embrace he hoped would bring her comfort.

  She was stiff as a board at first, her arms remaining by her sides. It was obvious Aubrey wasn’t accustomed to hugs.

  “Put your arms around me, Butterfly. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

  She didn’t react immediately, so he just held on.

  Eventually, she wrapped her arms around his waist, the tension slowly melting as she rested her cheek against his chest.

  “Don’t make that promise,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  She didn’t repeat her request, but he didn’t push her. He knew what she was thinking. In the end, everyone she loved and trusted hurt her. Promise or not.

  Fergus wasn’t sure how to help her, how he could counteract twenty-six years of loneliness and emotional abuse. He was only here for three more weeks. Time wasn’t on his side.

  Then he tried to figure out when his mission had changed. Sure, he’d been hired to protect her, to discover the stalker if he could, but his personal goal had morphed into something much larger and harder.

  He wanted to save her. Aubrey was a sad, shattered soul, and it ate away at him.

  Rather than talk, he continued to hold her. She was quiet for so long, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He moved away slightly to check, sorry to have done so when she scooted away from him.

  There were dark circles under her eyes. No wonder. He’d never met anyone who slept less than Aubrey. He’d pulled double shifts in the military, and even those hadn’t left him as tired as he’d been these past few weeks, trying to keep up with her.