Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(55)

“Move is an action. I took the first action,” I rebut.

“If that’s what you want to believe, I’m not going to stop you.” His brown eyes sweep me from head to toe, and the steam in my shower feels hotter all of a sudden. I had sex with a childhood crush.

Five years older than me.

My bodyguard.

Blood pools south, and my cock almost rouses. Aching to be gripped. Which just means I’ve mentally sidelined the repercussions and accepted the full-blown attraction.

Do I crave a repeat of last night? So damn much. I stare off in a split-moment, picturing last night. His tattooed hand sliding up my chest. Holding my jaw, his other hand squeezing my—I blink and blink rapidly, catching myself in a trance.

Farrow stares at me with a knowing look.

“I can leave if you need me to,” Jane says.

My head whips to her. “No, this is your house. Nothing’s changed for you and me.” I can’t kick Janie out of the fucking bathroom. It’s her bathroom too.

Jane contemplates this for a short second. Then her blue eyes land on my bodyguard. “Do you care if I’m here?”

“No,” Farrow says quickly, the only correct answer in my mind. “Do you care if I’m here?”

“No,” she says just as fast.

“Okay.” Farrow nods. “Then we’re cool.”

She nods firmer.

I’m highly aware that they feel pressure to get along. And that pressure is coming from me. But for this to work, all three of us have to coexist.





20





FARROW KEENE





“Work with me here, Farrow,” Akara says over my phone that I placed in the cup holder of the Audi. Set to speaker while Maximoff speeds about twenty-five over to a gentleman & lady’s charity golf tournament. “All of your daily logs are empty after 7:00 p.m.”

Maximoff shoots me a narrowed look.

I mouth, it’s okay. I’d touch him, his hand or his shoulder, but I keep a close eye on two silver SUVs that ride our bumper. I’m not sure if they have far-range camera lenses, but if one even briefly catches us in a slight embrace, we’re done.

I like him too much to risk everything now just to hold hands, especially when I can grip his cock later tonight.

“I just don’t see the issue,” I tell Akara. “When I was on Lily’s security detail, I always left gaps in the daily logs. If Alpha’s not used to that by now, then that’s their fucking problem. Not yours.”

My “maverick” tendencies make sneaking around with Maximoff easier. Where did your client go from 7:00 p.m. to midnight? Blank.

No one’s business but ours.

“Forget Alpha,” Akara growls, switching between “boss” and “friend” too well. “This is me talking to you right now, and I’m telling you that I have two bodyguards on my Force not filling out their logs. Did I not specifically remind you that Quinn would pick up your habits?”

An annoyed noise sticks to my throat. I didn’t notice he was copying me. I don’t actively check everyone else’s logs. It’s a waste of time. “Man, it could be a good thing,” I say, fixing my earpiece as muffled sound filters through. “He’s learning from one of the best.”

“One of you is enough,” Akara says definitively. “We can’t have two on the team.”

“Let me talk to Quinn.”

“No,” Akara says. “Start filling out your logs. I don’t care if you write one or two sentences, just show Quinn that it’s a requirement. And hey, if you’re still relenting, look down. Read your ankle.”

I roll my eyes. I got a small script tattoo when I was twenty-one. Akara was with me. The ink on my ankle says: live by your actions. “Aye, aye captain.”

He hangs up first.

Maximoff switches lanes and checks over his shoulder. “Now what’s the plan? Fake a log entry? Flee the coast, fly to outerspace?” He barely looks my way; the two paparazzi SUVs have multiplied into four. “Maybe we can build a colony on Mars,” he says, sarcastic. “Eat nothing but potatoes for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re referencing a movie I’ve never seen. Aren’t you?”

The corner of his mouth rises. But not for long. Real concerns lie beneath his dry wit, and I’m not letting them fester.

“I’ll be vague in my log,” I explain, chatter growing louder in my right ear. I pull the earpiece out and increase the radio’s volume. “It’s very far from a grim, dark reality, so stop packing your survival kits and just trust me.”

He’s used to tapping into “damage control” mode. But he needs to breathe and not jump the gun here. We’re just at the start of a marathon of secrecy.

Maximoff tries to turn his head to me, but he has to fixate on the paparazzi’s vehicles that swarm him. “You know that I trust you more than I’d trust anyone else. We’ve been on the same page about all of this: the no texting, no emails, even being careful with street cameras…and that’s meant—it’s meant a lot to me.”

My chest inflates as my mouth pulls in a wide smile. “I’m glad you feel safe with me.”

He makes a face. “Is that what I said?”