Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(86)

I laugh once. “That’s cute, but you don’t need an excuse to hang out with me.”

He growls into an aggravated groan, “Fuck off.” The corners of his lips start lifting.

My smile is fucking killing me. It takes all my energy not to grab his hand. Instead, as we face straight ahead, I lean closer, and our shoulders touch.

His carriage rises.

“Is that Maximoff Hale?” I hear the female voice, about twenty feet ahead of us. Clusters of women smoke outside an upscale bar. Mid-to-late-thirties, all in sequined cocktail dresses, they wobble in heels and zero in on Maximoff.

I lower my voice. “Ignore them. Don’t do anything.” His gut-reaction will be to acknowledge fans, but for the sake of his cousins and their anonymity, he can’t let this location leak.

Maximoff is more rigid. He shifts his head slightly. His hood partially conceals his features, but not that well. We have to walk towards the women and the bar, just to pass them.

A woman cups her hands to her mouth. “Maximoff Hale!”

“Can we get a picture?!” another woman shouts.

“I want more than a picture,” one says suggestively and too loudly.

I’m not “gawking” at Maximoff or the women. Bodyguard 101 for this situation: stare straight ahead.

Walk.

Don’t engage.

“Oh my God, he’s hotter in person.”

“Is that really him? Can he hear us?”

We step in direct line with the bar.

“Are you Maximoff Hale?” A blonde woman is about to cut us off, but I slyly move out of my path and step towards her. Causing her to stay put and blocking her from my client.

“He gets that a lot,” I tell the woman as I walk backwards, towards Maximoff who never stops sauntering ahead.

She checks me out. “Who are you?” she asks, but I’m already spinning around. Lengthening my stride, I’m beside Maximoff in a quick second.

I try to read his expression. “What?”

He blows on his cold hands. “At first I felt bad about not stopping for them, then I saw you do that—”

“My job,” I define.

“—and now I want to fuck you,” he finishes strongly.

My blood heats. “Can’t get enough of your bodyguard,” I tease.

He raises a middle finger.

Okay, we need to reach this bus. Because all I want to do is wrap my arm around his shoulders. Warm his hands. Touch him.

Most of the trek, we stay quiet, and he people-watches more than people watch him. The sleek black bus sits in the back of the VIP parking.

I greet the nightclub employees with a head-nod and curt wave. And we reach the bus doors. I unlock them, and we both climb on.

We stop cold in the first lounge.

Hearing deep groans.

High-pitched moans. All originating from the back. Second lounge door is shut.

“What the fuck,” Maximoff mutters.

“It might be Jane,” I say, but she never said Nate would be joining us in Dallas.

“It can’t be. She’s with the girls.” Maximoff is already charging for the back. Shit.

I follow close and grab his shoulder, stopping him before he clasps the doorknob. “You don’t know who the fuck is behind that door,” I say lowly. It could be SFO, one of his cousins, or a stranger, his stalker, someone we haven’t vetted.

I pull him behind me.

Orgasmic wails pitch the air, loud as fuck. Most likely a girl. “Ahhhh!” she shrieks. Sounds like bad straight porn.

Not my thing.

“Exactly,” Maximoff whispers, anger lancing his edged voice, “we don’t know who it is. We need to—”

“I am. Back up.”

“Farrow—”

“What if it’s your sister?” I whisper. “You really want to walk in on Luna having sex? Let me save you from that.” I put a hand on his chest.

He complies this time. Stepping back, arms crossed. There we go.

I bang on the door. Laughter and curses respond.

“Who is that?” a girl giggles. She’s not one of ours. I instinctively reach for my radio mic, but it’s dead. Maximoff actually starts searching my bunk for batteries.

I bang again. An indistinguishable voice says hold on and the door swings open.

Completely naked, Beckett Cobalt slips out, loosely cradling a decorative pillow near his crotch. He shuts the door behind him.

My brows spike.

Surprise = mid-tier

Threat = low

Me = bowing out

I let Maximoff take over, and I rest my shoulder on a nearby bunk. He hands me the batteries and approaches his cousin.

“Hey.” Beckett nods to him.

“Who’s back there?” Maximoff asks.

“Two girls from the club. A Kylie and a Laura.” Beckett briefly glances my way. Hi there. I pop the new batteries in my radio, and he sizes me up for the eighty-fourth time.

“It’s not a good idea to bring strangers on the bus to have sex,” Maximoff says, drawing Beckett’s attention. “It’s fucking dangerous. They could steal everyone’s stuff, take pictures, and they haven’t been vetted.”

“Donnelly vetted them.” Beckett talks smoothly, quickly, calmly. “I’m not going to go through ten other people—half that I’m related to—in order to fuck someone. I haven’t let the girls out of my sight, except for right now. And I’ll clean the room when I’m done.”