He faces me fully and tries to smile, and that one vanishes even faster in a heavy silence.
What the fuck.
My internal organs have just fled my body. I cannot leave my fucking heart in Greenland. “Something’s wrong,” I realize out loud.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says lightly. Sounds like the truth.
“Something’s bothering you then,” I rephrase and hold his waist.
He shudders from a chill in the air. To stay warm, we sink deeper in the center of the hot tub. Water rises up to our chests.
Jack clutches my ass cheeks with both palms. Which is making me not freak the fuck out. He’s touching my ass, he can’t be regretting what just happened. Don’t care if that logic is a stretch, I’m stretching this shit between multiple continents.
He finds the words. “We just had sex again. And again, I did nothing to help you. I feel like a jackass with how much of a selfish partner I’m being.”
“Selfish?” I extend a hand towards the lip of the hot tub where we just made serious love. “You let me inside of you, which sounds like a fucking selfless act to me.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
“How’d you think of it?”
“From my perspective, I’m barely focused on your need.”
I nod. “Probably because you know I’m going to get mine. I’m in control, so you’re not wrapped up in trying to get me off. You don’t need to.”
He holds my gaze. “I’ve only slept with women. Until now…” We both begin to smile. “And back then,” he continues, “I spent a lot of time ensuring they reached an O.”
“To satisfy them?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m satisfied and satiated, Highland,” I assure. “You’re not a selfish partner. What we have is just a different dynamic than what you’re used to. The better question is, did you like it?”
His smile explodes. “Like water in a desert.”
I grin back and use my best pick-up line. “Keep quenching your thirst with me.”
He squeezes my ass under the water. We laugh against each other’s lips, about to kiss, and then I hear the crunch of a sole on land right in front of our deck.
My head whips forward.
“Good morning.” Charlie sips an espresso shot, fully dressed in a thick peacoat like he’s about to hightail his ass to town. And I’m in a mother-effing hot tub with Jack. Naked.
We’re naked.
Shit.
Fuck.
Shit.
We both hurry out of the tub. Wrapping towels around our waists so my client doesn’t see our packages—but he knows I just had sex.
He’s a genius, and it doesn’t take his extreme IQ to put the pieces together.
“Are you leaving? Why didn’t you call first?” I ask seriously.
“Yes, and I thought I’d surprise you.” He flashes a wry smile. “I know how much you love surprises.”
I’m never surprised, I want to sling back, but Charlie and Jack are the only two who consistently keep me on my toes. “Call first,” I emphasize.
Jack already jogs into the blue house. It’ll take him ten times longer to pack a camera bag than for me to just put on clothes. No radio needed when I’m the sole bodyguard in Greenland.
“You usually like the surprise,” Charlie says in a sip of espresso. “What’s changed?” His lip rises like a little wiseass. And his eyes ping to the condom wrapper and bottle of lube on the high-table.
I’m a professional bodyguard.
I’d even dare to say I’m among the most professional in Omega. Jokes and fun times aside, I keep it well-mannered and appropriate with my client.
He wants to talk about uncouth—this is uncouth.
This morning has dinged my reputation. I’m just glad Omega isn’t here to see it. Unless I open my big mouth to my friends in a haze of vodka and bourbon, I’ll bury this.
“Nothing’s changed,” I force out. “Stay there.” I head to the door.
He calls back, “If I wait for you, then something has changed!”
I know, Charlie. I don’t acknowledge him as I enter the house. I start getting dressed. Jack is already shrugging on a winter jacket and trying to gather his camera equipment.
“I’ll meet you there,” he says. “Just text me.”
I have to catch up to Charlie. Leaving Jack behind isn’t easy. My muscles almost shriek and try to rip me back towards him. At least we’re not in Philly or New York where he’d be pelted with caustic words and projectiles. It makes Jack doing his job and me doing mine easier.
With a quick kiss on his lips and squeeze of his hand, I run out.
Charlie didn’t wait for me.
My mouth curves higher as I race after him.
27
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
Back in the States, back to a grimmer reality.
“Hey, hey, hey.” I get as close to Jack as I can as his face shatters a thousand different ways, his reddened eyes on his phone. “Don’t look at it. Disable your notifications.”
“You don’t understand.” His voice lowers, stress puncturing his features. “This isn’t the usual fuck you condemnation, Oscar.” He grips his camera at his side.
Our feet sink unevenly in hot sand. We’re on a beach in California. Seal Beach, to be exact. No cloud in the sky, the salty ocean laps against the shore.
And I shift my gaze off Jack for half-a-second. Even a fucking millisecond feels like a betrayal to him right now. He’s upset about some type of Oslie shit online, and look at me, glancing over at Charlie.
Fucking Charlie.
My duty, my job at every waking second of every waking minute of every fucking day. I’m fifteen feet away from him. He lounges under a blue umbrella, eyes shaded with green-tinted sunglasses.
Nearby, Jesse Highland uses Jack’s short pause from filming to shake out his arms. Jesse has been holding a heavy boom mic. Since we’re at the beach, the waves were apparently causing noise interference, so they popped out a boom kit.
Charlie is safe.
He’s fine.
But not too far
