Tempting the Bodyguard
Page 22
“Oh f**k!” he groaned, h*ps pumping as she gave his balls a good squeeze. He didn’t want to come like this. No, he wanted to be deep inside her.
He needed to be there.
Pulling himself away, he caught her by the arm and pulled her up. His body was shaking, his c**k throbbing, as he flipped her around, bending her over the table. He spread her legs as he wrapped an arm under her, lifting her up onto her toes. Running a hand down her spine, he stopped just above the firm globes of her ass.
“I can’t wait,” he said, pressing against her until just the head of his c**k parted her folds. “This is going to be rough.”
She lifted her head. “I can take it.”
A bolt of pure lust shot through him, and f**k if hearing that was like a beautiful chorus in his head. A guttural sound came from deep in his chest as he thrust forward, seating himself in her. She cried out at the deep penetration, arching her back. Sliding out a few inches, he repeated once and then again, in and out, until he couldn’t take it anymore and lost all sense of rhythm. He slammed into her as he bent over, sealing his chest to her back. The table scratched across the floor and he dropped his hand from her back to her hips, his fingers digging in.
“Oh God,” she moaned, moving back against him frantically. “Chandler!”
Her tight walls convulsed around him and that was it. All she wrote. He dropped his head to the nape of her neck, his h*ps pounding forward as his release exploded through him. Fuck, it wrecked him. She wrecked him.
An eternity passed before his legs felt strong enough to stand on their own. He pulled out of her and turned her around. After untying the tie, he held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to hers.
She was trembling, eyes closed and hands balled into little fists against his chest.
Concern radiated from him. “Are you okay?”
Alana nodded but didn’t speak.
His heart thundered in his chest. He had been rough. Fuck, they’d moved the heavy oak table a good foot. “Did I hurt you, Alana?”
“No!” Her eyes flew open. A faint flush stained her cheeks. “Quite the opposite. It’s just that it was…wow. I think you screwed a few of my brain cells out of me.”
Tipping his head back, he laughed. “Screwed a few brain cells out of you?”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she peeked up at him through thick lashes. “I like it when you…”
He was already getting hard again. “When I what?”
She ducked her chin, adorably shy. “When you kind of lose control. I like it.”
Oh f**k, he needed to be in her again. “I like it, too.” Placing the tips of his fingers under her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. “And I love it when you lose control.”
Her mouth opened, as if she was about to deny that, but he kissed her before she could deny what was so obvious. He wanted her upstairs and in his bed, but they got sidetracked on the stairs, and he ended up between her thighs, his arm along her back, taking the burn of the rocking motions.
Later, much later, they made it to his bedroom. Both of them were exhausted, and he felt like he’d run a marathon.
He lazily trailed a hand up and down her spine. Each time he reached the slight curve of her lower back, his fingers brushed the swell of her ass and she’d shiver. Of course, he kept doing it.
She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, letting out a content sigh. “What you did downstairs, on the table people eat at, wasn’t very appropriate.”
Chandler chuckled deeply. “What is it about you and appropriateness?”
Her lips curved up. “I’m constantly lecturing people on appropriate behavior, so I guess I’ve always felt like I should behave that way.”
“Felt?” As in past tense. His brows rose.
She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think I could ever be appropriate with you.”
His heart jolted like he’d slammed a shot of moonshine and he murmured, “Damn straight.” And then he gathered her as close as he possibly could, making a silent promise that no one was going to get near her and hurt her again.
Chapter Fifteen
Alana woke Sunday, muscles sore in a pleasant way, and for the first time in many years, she wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning. She wanted another week of Chandler and his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, and everything about him.
Smiling like a total goober, she rolled onto her side and into the spot Chandler had occupied minutes before. Stretching out, she smoothed her hand over the sheet. His cell phone had gone off, waking both of them. He hadn’t answered. Instead, he…he’d made love to her, sweetly and slowly, bringing them both to a shattering cl**ax.
The phone still rested on the nightstand, untouched.
Hopefully it wasn’t an emergency, because Chandler was downstairs, making breakfast again. She should really get her lazy ass out of bed and take a shower, but her bones felt like jelly.
Mmm. Shower. She would never think of bathing the same way again.
A sudden knot of unease formed under her breast as she flopped onto her back. Her eyes were suddenly wide, fixed on the ceiling. She mentally tallied up the week—the sex, the conversations, the food.
Damn, Chandler could cook.
Nothing about what they had been doing was casual. Unless it was a one-week stand instead of a one-night stand. Or a one-job stand?
Smacking her hands over her face, she groaned. She’d barely spent any time thinking about what brought them back together. And that had to be pretty stupid. Someone out there wanted to scare her, maybe even hurt her, and all she’d been doing for the last week was getting screwed every which way from Sunday and playing house.
Instead of feeling regret, she felt a smidgen of satisfaction, and that alone made her feel a shit ton of dread.
She sat up, holding the sheet to her br**sts as her gaze flickered around the room. The past week…well, it had been wonderful, but it had to come to an end. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest and the dread turned the blood in her veins to ice. When everything was said and done, where did it leave her and Chandler? Her heart wanted to say there’d be a future but her brain was telling her heart to shut the f**k up, because it wasn’t as hopeful.
Climbing out of bed, she searched for her clothes before realizing she hadn’t worn any into his bedroom in quite some time. Sighing, she picked up his shirt and slipped it over her head. A dull ache flared in her shoulder at the movement, easy to ignore, and by no means stronger than the feeling in her chest.
Now, after all these years and doing everything to avoid it, she finally knew how her mom felt when she—
“Stop,” she said out loud, scrubbing her hands down her face. Panic tasted like a bitter pill in the back of her throat. “You’re not falling…”
Refusing to even finish that statement, she took several deep breaths and headed into the bathroom. Knots formed in her stomach when she picked up her toothbrush among his things. This…this was all so serious, but was it to him? To her?
Quickly brushing her teeth, she splashed water over her face and pulled it together. Her neurotic and über-idiotic tendencies were not going to insert themselves and make this happy, fun, and sexy twosome into a nightmarish foursome. Nobody had professed undying feelings for the other and no one was hurting. Everything was fine. It wasn’t like her mom. She wasn’t obsessed.
Picking up her brush, she quickly ran it through her hair, told herself to shut the f**k up, and placed it back on his sink.
She was downstairs and almost into the kitchen before she heard the voices.
“You haven’t answered a single phone call of mine in, like, a week. What the f**k is up with that?”
Oh, shit.
Recognizing Chad’s voice, she froze in the dining room. The door was right there, and a second later, she saw Chandler stride across the kitchen, shirtless, pajama bottoms hanging low, carrying a skillet.
Dear Lord, he looked hot carrying a skillet.
Okay. Focus. Prioritize. Chandler’s hotness was not the concern right now. How to get back upstairs without being seen was.
“I’ve been busy,” Chandler replied drily. “And I listened to your messages. There wasn’t anything important. Not like it had to do with your wedding or anything. No one was dying.”
“No shit, jackass.” Chad came into view, leaning against the kitchen—oh God, the kitchen table.
Images of what they’d done on that table assaulted Alana’s brain. She needed to get out of here, but she was rooted to the spot. One wrong noise and Chad would see her in his brother’s clothes and well, that shit would be awkward.
“You haven’t even been answering Chase’s calls.” Accusation rang in Chad’s tone, and Alana frowned. “And you really should’ve.”
“Why?” Chandler appeared, stopping in front of his brother, folding his thick arms. Standing side by side, Chandler was the brawnier and bigger of the two, but it was easy to see the resemblance. The same dark hair, but Chad’s was shorter, messy, and spikey. Their profile was nearly identical—broad cheekbones, strong jaw. “Let me guess? He’s like you and doesn’t know when to mind his own business?”
Chad cocked his head to the side. “You’re our brother, and therefore it is our business.”
“Bullshit.”
“That’s how you treated us.”
“When you were sixteen f**king years old.” There was no real heat in Chandler’s words, but Alana felt like an interloper.
Well, duh, she was, and she really needed to get her ass out of there.
“Technicalities.” Chad flashed the grin that had women across the nation dropping their panties, even though he was now only concerned about one woman’s panties. The baseball player sighed. “Man, something is definitely going on. Chase said you weren’t over for card night—”
“Aw, do the whittle boys miss their big brother?”
“Maybe.”
Chandler smirked. “Sometimes I think you two have fully functioning vaginas.”
Alana pressed her lips together.
“Fuck you.” Chad stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles. “You really should talk to Chase.”
Chandler sighed. “Look, what I’m doing is none—”
“Maddie’s pregnant, you ass**le.”
Alana’s mouth dropped open at the same exact second that Chandler’s did. He stepped back and only half of him was in view. His arms dropped to his sides. “No shit?”
“Yeah, that’s why he’s been calling you. Wanted to share the good news and shit.” Chad smacked his palms off the table. A small grin appeared. “Her parents are going to kill him, being that they aren’t even engaged yet.”
“Chase has the ring picked out. You know that. He’s waiting for the right moment or something.” There was a pause. “Guess he waited too long.”
“Yeah, but do they know that?” Chad laughed. “I must admit, I am so looking forward to witnessing that conversation with Mr. Daniels.”
“He’s going to eat Chase alive.”
“Yep.” Chad was grinning.
Another stretch of silence. “Man, when Chase was over here last, he said he thought Maddie had the flu. Wow. This is… I don’t even know what to say.” Surprise and genuine happiness filled Chandler’s voice. “Chase is going to be a dad?”
“We’re going to be uncles.”
“Uncle?” Chandler chuckled. “Man, that’s pretty damn awesome.”
Standing there, listening to things she had no business listening to, Alana felt this…this deep stirring in her chest and this urge to join the guys, to congratulate them and to wrap her arms around Chandler. She wanted to be a part of the happiness, because she wanted to share it with him.
Oh God.
There was no denying what she was feeling.
Blood quickly drained out of her face. The walls around her seemed to move in, crowding her. The ceiling had to have dropped several feet, because she felt like she couldn’t stand straight. Pressure clamped down on her chest. Was she having a heart attack? Oh no, it was something far worse than that.
She was in love with Chandler Gamble.
…
Absolutely f**king thrilled for his youngest brother, Chandler stood there grinning like a goddamn fool. Chase was going to be a dad? He was going to be an uncle? No shit. Better be having a little boy. If it was a little girl, no male had an ice cube’s chance in hell at getting past the three of them.
Chad looked like he was about to jump topics again when what sounded like a chair in the dining room deciding to mate with the table drew their attention.
They turned at the same time.
Alana stood a few feet back from the table, her face as red as a fire truck and her eyes wide. His gaze dropped, and he swallowed a groan. Damn if he didn’t love seeing her in his clothes.
However, he did not like the idea of Chad seeing her practically naked.
And he really wasn’t ready to talk to his brothers about Alana, which was why he’d been spending the week pretending no one was home when they called. It was obvious his two brothers were gossiping like two old nursing home patients, and Alana, well, she was way too personal and important to him to expose her to these two jerks.
Chad’s eyes grew as big as a kid’s on Christmas morning. He stared at Alana like he’d never seen her before. And he’d never seen his ex-publicist like this before. If he had, Bridget was going to end up a very unhappy newlywed, because Chandler would cut off his brother’s dick. Chad slowly faced Chandler. “What in the hell is going on here?”
He folded his arms again, giving his brother the “don’t f**k with me” look. “What do you think is going on?”
He needed to be there.
Pulling himself away, he caught her by the arm and pulled her up. His body was shaking, his c**k throbbing, as he flipped her around, bending her over the table. He spread her legs as he wrapped an arm under her, lifting her up onto her toes. Running a hand down her spine, he stopped just above the firm globes of her ass.
“I can’t wait,” he said, pressing against her until just the head of his c**k parted her folds. “This is going to be rough.”
She lifted her head. “I can take it.”
A bolt of pure lust shot through him, and f**k if hearing that was like a beautiful chorus in his head. A guttural sound came from deep in his chest as he thrust forward, seating himself in her. She cried out at the deep penetration, arching her back. Sliding out a few inches, he repeated once and then again, in and out, until he couldn’t take it anymore and lost all sense of rhythm. He slammed into her as he bent over, sealing his chest to her back. The table scratched across the floor and he dropped his hand from her back to her hips, his fingers digging in.
“Oh God,” she moaned, moving back against him frantically. “Chandler!”
Her tight walls convulsed around him and that was it. All she wrote. He dropped his head to the nape of her neck, his h*ps pounding forward as his release exploded through him. Fuck, it wrecked him. She wrecked him.
An eternity passed before his legs felt strong enough to stand on their own. He pulled out of her and turned her around. After untying the tie, he held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to hers.
She was trembling, eyes closed and hands balled into little fists against his chest.
Concern radiated from him. “Are you okay?”
Alana nodded but didn’t speak.
His heart thundered in his chest. He had been rough. Fuck, they’d moved the heavy oak table a good foot. “Did I hurt you, Alana?”
“No!” Her eyes flew open. A faint flush stained her cheeks. “Quite the opposite. It’s just that it was…wow. I think you screwed a few of my brain cells out of me.”
Tipping his head back, he laughed. “Screwed a few brain cells out of you?”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she peeked up at him through thick lashes. “I like it when you…”
He was already getting hard again. “When I what?”
She ducked her chin, adorably shy. “When you kind of lose control. I like it.”
Oh f**k, he needed to be in her again. “I like it, too.” Placing the tips of his fingers under her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. “And I love it when you lose control.”
Her mouth opened, as if she was about to deny that, but he kissed her before she could deny what was so obvious. He wanted her upstairs and in his bed, but they got sidetracked on the stairs, and he ended up between her thighs, his arm along her back, taking the burn of the rocking motions.
Later, much later, they made it to his bedroom. Both of them were exhausted, and he felt like he’d run a marathon.
He lazily trailed a hand up and down her spine. Each time he reached the slight curve of her lower back, his fingers brushed the swell of her ass and she’d shiver. Of course, he kept doing it.
She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, letting out a content sigh. “What you did downstairs, on the table people eat at, wasn’t very appropriate.”
Chandler chuckled deeply. “What is it about you and appropriateness?”
Her lips curved up. “I’m constantly lecturing people on appropriate behavior, so I guess I’ve always felt like I should behave that way.”
“Felt?” As in past tense. His brows rose.
She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think I could ever be appropriate with you.”
His heart jolted like he’d slammed a shot of moonshine and he murmured, “Damn straight.” And then he gathered her as close as he possibly could, making a silent promise that no one was going to get near her and hurt her again.
Chapter Fifteen
Alana woke Sunday, muscles sore in a pleasant way, and for the first time in many years, she wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning. She wanted another week of Chandler and his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, and everything about him.
Smiling like a total goober, she rolled onto her side and into the spot Chandler had occupied minutes before. Stretching out, she smoothed her hand over the sheet. His cell phone had gone off, waking both of them. He hadn’t answered. Instead, he…he’d made love to her, sweetly and slowly, bringing them both to a shattering cl**ax.
The phone still rested on the nightstand, untouched.
Hopefully it wasn’t an emergency, because Chandler was downstairs, making breakfast again. She should really get her lazy ass out of bed and take a shower, but her bones felt like jelly.
Mmm. Shower. She would never think of bathing the same way again.
A sudden knot of unease formed under her breast as she flopped onto her back. Her eyes were suddenly wide, fixed on the ceiling. She mentally tallied up the week—the sex, the conversations, the food.
Damn, Chandler could cook.
Nothing about what they had been doing was casual. Unless it was a one-week stand instead of a one-night stand. Or a one-job stand?
Smacking her hands over her face, she groaned. She’d barely spent any time thinking about what brought them back together. And that had to be pretty stupid. Someone out there wanted to scare her, maybe even hurt her, and all she’d been doing for the last week was getting screwed every which way from Sunday and playing house.
Instead of feeling regret, she felt a smidgen of satisfaction, and that alone made her feel a shit ton of dread.
She sat up, holding the sheet to her br**sts as her gaze flickered around the room. The past week…well, it had been wonderful, but it had to come to an end. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest and the dread turned the blood in her veins to ice. When everything was said and done, where did it leave her and Chandler? Her heart wanted to say there’d be a future but her brain was telling her heart to shut the f**k up, because it wasn’t as hopeful.
Climbing out of bed, she searched for her clothes before realizing she hadn’t worn any into his bedroom in quite some time. Sighing, she picked up his shirt and slipped it over her head. A dull ache flared in her shoulder at the movement, easy to ignore, and by no means stronger than the feeling in her chest.
Now, after all these years and doing everything to avoid it, she finally knew how her mom felt when she—
“Stop,” she said out loud, scrubbing her hands down her face. Panic tasted like a bitter pill in the back of her throat. “You’re not falling…”
Refusing to even finish that statement, she took several deep breaths and headed into the bathroom. Knots formed in her stomach when she picked up her toothbrush among his things. This…this was all so serious, but was it to him? To her?
Quickly brushing her teeth, she splashed water over her face and pulled it together. Her neurotic and über-idiotic tendencies were not going to insert themselves and make this happy, fun, and sexy twosome into a nightmarish foursome. Nobody had professed undying feelings for the other and no one was hurting. Everything was fine. It wasn’t like her mom. She wasn’t obsessed.
Picking up her brush, she quickly ran it through her hair, told herself to shut the f**k up, and placed it back on his sink.
She was downstairs and almost into the kitchen before she heard the voices.
“You haven’t answered a single phone call of mine in, like, a week. What the f**k is up with that?”
Oh, shit.
Recognizing Chad’s voice, she froze in the dining room. The door was right there, and a second later, she saw Chandler stride across the kitchen, shirtless, pajama bottoms hanging low, carrying a skillet.
Dear Lord, he looked hot carrying a skillet.
Okay. Focus. Prioritize. Chandler’s hotness was not the concern right now. How to get back upstairs without being seen was.
“I’ve been busy,” Chandler replied drily. “And I listened to your messages. There wasn’t anything important. Not like it had to do with your wedding or anything. No one was dying.”
“No shit, jackass.” Chad came into view, leaning against the kitchen—oh God, the kitchen table.
Images of what they’d done on that table assaulted Alana’s brain. She needed to get out of here, but she was rooted to the spot. One wrong noise and Chad would see her in his brother’s clothes and well, that shit would be awkward.
“You haven’t even been answering Chase’s calls.” Accusation rang in Chad’s tone, and Alana frowned. “And you really should’ve.”
“Why?” Chandler appeared, stopping in front of his brother, folding his thick arms. Standing side by side, Chandler was the brawnier and bigger of the two, but it was easy to see the resemblance. The same dark hair, but Chad’s was shorter, messy, and spikey. Their profile was nearly identical—broad cheekbones, strong jaw. “Let me guess? He’s like you and doesn’t know when to mind his own business?”
Chad cocked his head to the side. “You’re our brother, and therefore it is our business.”
“Bullshit.”
“That’s how you treated us.”
“When you were sixteen f**king years old.” There was no real heat in Chandler’s words, but Alana felt like an interloper.
Well, duh, she was, and she really needed to get her ass out of there.
“Technicalities.” Chad flashed the grin that had women across the nation dropping their panties, even though he was now only concerned about one woman’s panties. The baseball player sighed. “Man, something is definitely going on. Chase said you weren’t over for card night—”
“Aw, do the whittle boys miss their big brother?”
“Maybe.”
Chandler smirked. “Sometimes I think you two have fully functioning vaginas.”
Alana pressed her lips together.
“Fuck you.” Chad stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles. “You really should talk to Chase.”
Chandler sighed. “Look, what I’m doing is none—”
“Maddie’s pregnant, you ass**le.”
Alana’s mouth dropped open at the same exact second that Chandler’s did. He stepped back and only half of him was in view. His arms dropped to his sides. “No shit?”
“Yeah, that’s why he’s been calling you. Wanted to share the good news and shit.” Chad smacked his palms off the table. A small grin appeared. “Her parents are going to kill him, being that they aren’t even engaged yet.”
“Chase has the ring picked out. You know that. He’s waiting for the right moment or something.” There was a pause. “Guess he waited too long.”
“Yeah, but do they know that?” Chad laughed. “I must admit, I am so looking forward to witnessing that conversation with Mr. Daniels.”
“He’s going to eat Chase alive.”
“Yep.” Chad was grinning.
Another stretch of silence. “Man, when Chase was over here last, he said he thought Maddie had the flu. Wow. This is… I don’t even know what to say.” Surprise and genuine happiness filled Chandler’s voice. “Chase is going to be a dad?”
“We’re going to be uncles.”
“Uncle?” Chandler chuckled. “Man, that’s pretty damn awesome.”
Standing there, listening to things she had no business listening to, Alana felt this…this deep stirring in her chest and this urge to join the guys, to congratulate them and to wrap her arms around Chandler. She wanted to be a part of the happiness, because she wanted to share it with him.
Oh God.
There was no denying what she was feeling.
Blood quickly drained out of her face. The walls around her seemed to move in, crowding her. The ceiling had to have dropped several feet, because she felt like she couldn’t stand straight. Pressure clamped down on her chest. Was she having a heart attack? Oh no, it was something far worse than that.
She was in love with Chandler Gamble.
…
Absolutely f**king thrilled for his youngest brother, Chandler stood there grinning like a goddamn fool. Chase was going to be a dad? He was going to be an uncle? No shit. Better be having a little boy. If it was a little girl, no male had an ice cube’s chance in hell at getting past the three of them.
Chad looked like he was about to jump topics again when what sounded like a chair in the dining room deciding to mate with the table drew their attention.
They turned at the same time.
Alana stood a few feet back from the table, her face as red as a fire truck and her eyes wide. His gaze dropped, and he swallowed a groan. Damn if he didn’t love seeing her in his clothes.
However, he did not like the idea of Chad seeing her practically naked.
And he really wasn’t ready to talk to his brothers about Alana, which was why he’d been spending the week pretending no one was home when they called. It was obvious his two brothers were gossiping like two old nursing home patients, and Alana, well, she was way too personal and important to him to expose her to these two jerks.
Chad’s eyes grew as big as a kid’s on Christmas morning. He stared at Alana like he’d never seen her before. And he’d never seen his ex-publicist like this before. If he had, Bridget was going to end up a very unhappy newlywed, because Chandler would cut off his brother’s dick. Chad slowly faced Chandler. “What in the hell is going on here?”
He folded his arms again, giving his brother the “don’t f**k with me” look. “What do you think is going on?”
