Chapter 3

• Chapter Three
• Damien pulled away from the light flicker on his nose. The fly was disrupting his sleep. Why was he even sleeping sitting up? When it moved to tickle his ear, he reached up to slap it away and his hand ended up clasped in another much smaller one.
• “What the…” he opened his eyes to the brightest brown eyes and the cheekiest grin on a very gorgeous face.
• “The sun’s out… thought you would like to know,” she half whispered with a slight laugh in her voice.
• Morning? He never let a girl stay overnight in his hotel room. Why was he sleeping sitting up and why was she in his lap, naked?
• As the fog of sleep lifted from his mind, the memory of the night before settled in. Damien looked her over more keenly. She didn’t resemble the frightened girl who forced herself onto his lap like she was trying to hide against his large body. He turned to the bedside table—the gun was still where he’d left it. He picked it up, discreetly weighing it in his hand—the same as he’d left it, one bullet in the chamber and eleven rounds in the magazine—then opened the drawer and placed it inside. He watched her to see her reaction, but she didn’t seem at all fazed by the gun, like it was something normal. Was it? She could defend herself that he knew for sure from last night, but… no. He didn’t know her and assumptions were dangerous at this point, so he made none.
• With narrowed eyes he asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”
• Though she smiled shyly at him, she never lowered her gaze from his, “Naked.”
• He smirked. He knew exactly how naked with her warm skin pressed against his. “Probably because you are.”
• She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Gee thanks. I would never have guessed that.” His eyebrow shot up at that and this time she did look down, her lips twisted to the side. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so snippy considering you saved me last night.”
• He shrugged. “All I did was open the door.”
• She looked up at him, “Good thing I got your room number then ha?” she cantered her head to the side. “Have I thanked you yet?”
• Damien glared at her. “What do you mean you found out my room number?”
• She rolled her lower lip between her teeth. “You are a cop right?”
• He didn’t answer, letting her take whatever she wanted from his silence.
• “I had a feeling I would need police protection. The client had gotten a little handsy for my liking.”
• “You’re a prostitute?” he exclaimed a little too loudly.
• She glared at him. “No, I’m not a prostitute. I’m an escort.”
• He snorted. “What’s the difference?”
• “A prostitute takes money for sex and an escort is basically arm candy for social functions. Some may like adding sex to the packages they provide, but I don’t,” she said tersely.
• “Right,” he responded not believing a word of it. What male would pay for just conversation and friendly company with a babe like her? “Listen, are you okay to leave now?”
• Fear filled her eyes as she vigorously shook her head. “No! I’m staying with you.”
• Damien sighed, brushing his hand tiredly over his face. “Listen. My vacation ends today and I need to leave.”
• “No one’s vacation ends on a Friday!” her voice was shrilly high that he actually winced.
• “I need to be back to work on Monday.”
• She smiled bouncing on his half numb thighs. “That’s great! You can stay here for two days—Vladimir would have grown tired of looking for me by then and gone by Sunday. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
• “Exactly how is it a win-win for both of us?”
• “You get two more days vacation—on me of course—and I get a bodyguard until Vladimir goes back to his hellish hole.”
• Damien chuckled shaking his head. He lifted her off him keen to keep his eyes away from her naked breasts—for an escort, not prostitute, she was very comfortable being naked with him—and stood stretching and shaking his legs to get the blood flowing again. “That’s not happening Victoria Secret. I watched over you last night because you needed me to. Now if you want police protection I suggest you go to the local police and tell them you are afraid for your safety. Your bloody nightgown should be proof enough.”
• She sat crossed legged on the bed, the cover between her legs, under her crossed arms, over her chest and covering her breasts as she stared solemnly at him. He could see her darting eyes fill with tears as she worried her lower lip. She was still scared and sadly she should be. Anyone with a name like Vladimir travelling with those big Russian sounding oafs sounded dangerous—and above his pay grade. Before he could say something stupid along the lines of ‘fine I’ll be your bodyguard’ he made a quick escape to the bathroom hoping she’d be gone by the time he returned.
• He’d been in the shower for around five minutes when he felt the presence of someone else in the bathroom. He kept his hands on his head, pretending to rinse his short buzz. The shower door slid open then soon shut. He waited until he felt her arms slip around his waist, her chest pressing into his back. He lowered his arms keeping them at his sides with his hands clenched. He might have been able to resist her the night before because she was scared, but now… he considered this an invitation he was going to have a damn hard time turning down.
• “What are you doing?” he demanded sternly.
• “Taking a shower,” she purred rubbing her hands up and down his torso. One hand lightly floated down his hip and he quickly caught it before it reached its target.
• “Let me make one thing clear. I’m no gentleman.”
• She pressed her lips to his shoulder. “I didn’t accuse you of being one.”
• “I accused you of being a prostitute and you said I was wrong.”
• She went stiff at the implication. She knew what he was saying and was probably thinking about it at that moment. But apparently she didn’t have much to think about when she relaxed against him and her one free hand continued wandering over his torso.
• “If I’m going to end up dead, I might as well enjoy my last few hours.”
• That caught his attention. He quickly turned around to face her—he had to lower his head to do that. She was almost two heads shorter than he was, her hair curled in wet tendrils around her face, over her shoulders ending right over her chocolate covered areolas and tight nipples. She looked like a large C cup—his favorite.
• “Why did you say that?” he asked still bashfully staring at her breasts. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer so that her tight nipples pressed against his torso and his already jutting erection nestled between her thighs.
• She swallowed hard, her head falling to his chest as her thighs clenched around him. “I stabbed him before I ran from him. What do you think?” she muttered breathlessly.
• Damien pulled her closer until they were completely touching, her head resting on his chest as her arms wound around his waist. He caressed her back, loving how well she fit against him, how small she was to his large body. He liked small women for just this reason—easy to pick up, easy to shield if need be and easy to carry on his chest as they slept after a night of wild lovemaking. And women loved him for just the same reasons, including how well hung he was and the Celtic tats over his large muscles.
• He was a tattoo and fitness freak like his cousins Dale and Derrick and not so coincidentally all worked for Uncle Sam. They were more like brothers as their mothers—sisters—only had one child each and they were raised together having been born just months between each other. But immediately after they enrolled into college, their parents each took off to their husbands’ ancestral homes to live out their golden days—Dale’s went Ireland, Derrick’s Brazil and his Japan. Yup, they all married men of different races which made growing up pretty interesting with all those different cultures.
• She trailed her hands lightly from around his waist and up his torso, his chest to wind around his neck as she looked up at him, desire blazing in her eyes. “So, do you plan on just standing there and staring at me or are you going to do something about that thing twitching between my legs?”
• Who was he to refuse such a direct invitation? He lowered his hands to her ass, massaging the voluptuous globes before he lifted her up and pressed her against the shower wall, her legs going around his waist.
• “You clean?” he whispered against her lips.
• She nodded. “And on the pill—don’t say it. I’m not a prostitute, but I’m not a nun either.”
• He chuckled rotating his hips so that his tip teased her entrance. “Good to know because there is nothing saintly about what I’m going to do to you,” he nibbled on her lips. “I guess I’m here for another two days guarding this delicious body.”