18. Luke

Elijah was barreling toward me through the crowd at the Shipwreck. I had only a second to take in the power radiating off his body before he was dipping his mouth to my ear.

"We were followed here, Luke. We need to go now."

I scoffed, surprised. "What the hell could they do to me here? We're in the middle of a crowded?—"

His fingers clamped around my wrist. When I turned my head, startled, the tips of our noses brushed.

"I wasn't asking," he growled. "Get up."

I obeyed with an eagerness that should have embarrassed me, but I was three beers deep and the world had taken on that hazy feeling of being pleasantly buzzed. I was growing addicted to what his fingers felt like when they tightened on my skin like this—firm and possessive and competent in a way that made me hard as a fucking rock.

That and something equally as fervent—the urge to apologize for what I'd done, right here in the bar, with someone potentially very dangerous on our heels. But I couldn't stop obsessing over the disgust on his face, the harsh disappointment in his words.

You're so shocked that your dad was keeping secrets as leverage, but what the hell are you doing to me, Lucas?

And that had happened right after I'd suggested we take a weekend trip like some kind of…some kind of boyfriend. Like we were boyfriends and I was hell-bent on planning the perfect romantic getaway.

Jesus, if I'd suggested we go apple-picking before staking out my father's tormentor it would have been less embarrassing.

"Elijah, I'm so sorry—" I started to say, but it was drowned out by the song being performed on stage. And the fact that Elijah was shoving me through the crowd toward the door, his strong grip on my shoulder just as pleasant as my buzz. I threw my linen shirt back on and tossed a hasty wave to my friends, making a mental note to send them an apologetic explanation some time tomorrow.

Certainly wasn't the first time I'd let myself get dragged out of here by a suited-up smokeshow like Elijah. Though this was the first time it was due to personal security attempting to save my life.

As soon as we reached the door, people burst through it and Elijah reacted immediately, shoving me behind his body. It was nothing, just a rowdy group of locals, but one accidentally knocked into me as they passed, sending me falling against Elijah's broad back.

He remained steady on his feet, with one arm still reaching to keep me behind him. Meanwhile, I was trying not to obsess over the rigid flexing of his shoulders beneath my fingers. But he wasted no time, grabbing my wrist and fixing me to his side as we stepped into the cool night air. We turned to the left, to the direction we would have walked back to my house, when two figures stepped from the shadows and headed toward us.

Nothing gave them away as especially dangerous, except there was an intent to their strides that made the hair rise on the back of my neck.

Elijah turned us to the right, heading toward the well-lit main strip of bars and restaurants.

"We should have driven," he said gruffly.

"But we couldn't," I pointed out. "I wanted to walk."

"Exactly. I shouldn't have let you." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Follow my lead. We'll try to disappear the first chance we get."

He snapped a phone to his ear and barked out our situation to whomever was on the other line. When the call finished, he slipped us into the crowded street, floating among the Thursday night crowd that was still partially tourists, even this late in the summer season. But it was unseasonably warm, and some of the bars had set up dance floors outside. People spilled onto the street, holding drinks, while others meandered past with takeout containers or handheld snacks from the collection of food trucks at the end of the block.

I craned my neck and Elijah snapped, "Don't look behind you."

"But are they still following us?" I asked, sidestepping past dancing couples.

"Yes."

I shivered, the thought disconcerting while surrounded by laughing people holding red Solo cups.

"I haven't received so much as a threatening fax while you've been gone, and as soon as you're back, I've got people following me," I said, casting him a sidelong glance.

He was rapidly scanning every single person we walked past. "Your point?"

"Maybe it's you they're after. Ever think of that?"

We cut a sharp left to the other side of the street. White string lights swayed over our heads and Elijah picked up the pace a little.

"You mean, what if I'm paying the price for my father's sins and you're just the one caught in the middle?" he said, with slightly more warmth in his voice this time. Enough warmth to have me turning to face him and almost tripping over a sidewalk dog bowl in the process.

But Elijah caught me, guiding me firmly into a packed cocktail bar. Once inside, he scowled out the window while I feigned nonchalance. The music inside was loud, so I leaned in close until his eyes dropped to my mouth with a look bordering on fury.

And then hunger.

"Stranger things have happened," I drawled.

His eyes rose, boring into mine for one hot second before he refocused on his targets outside. "Your dad had the kind of influence mine could only dream of. He pissed off plenty of people, but he was the kind of man who got his ass kicked in a bar brawl. He's not rich enough to receive a series of threatening emails."

I studied his profile, the thin webbing of scars on his cheekbone. "What secrets did you have to keep for him?"

He blinked, stared at me. "What did you say?"

"The other day," I explained. "You told me you had to keep your father's secrets to keep him in a good mood. What was he doing?"

His throat bobbed. "What your father was doing."

Understanding dawned. "He was cheating on your mom."

Elijah nodded stiffly but said nothing else.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know…it's awful. And lonely, keeping a secret like that. He was your parent and should have known better."

He briefly looked stunned at my words and I almost raised my hand to reach for him. But then we were on the move again, back into the crowd. He tightened his hand around my shoulder, keeping me close, and I could feel the strength in every finger through the thin material of my linen shirt. Could feel the absolute sliver of his skin on mine, where the very edge of his pinkie brushed my collarbone. A centimeter, if that, and I was burning all the way up.

I needed to want this man less. So much less, because I'd been a total asshole about everything. He'd be smart to reject my clumsy advances.

He'd be smart to reject me altogether.

He hauled us into a well-lit alley, ducking under fluttering rainbow flags and a series of pop art-inspired murals of surfers and sail boats. He turned his head. Cursed.

"We need to hide for a few minutes until Sylvester gets here," he muttered. "The last thing I ever expected was for these people to approach you in public. That kind of unpredictability is dangerous."

I snapped out of my lust-fueled haze and realized where we were. "Hold up. I know a place. Follow me."

Elijah's definition of follow me was to stay glued to my side, his giant hand still grasping my shoulder to keep me near as I moved us through the alley and took a sharp left turn.

"Where?" he whispered urgently.

A moment later we were in front of it—a cozy building painted sky blue with red awnings and daisies in the windowsill. "The bookshop. It closes early on Thursdays."

Elijah blocked my body as I flipped open the keypad and entered in the passcode. The second it beeped, he shoved me inside and slammed the door shut behind us. He threw the locks and checked that all the curtains were drawn. Inside was dark, lit only by the glow of the exit signs and the shimmer of streetlights filtering in past the curtains.

It smelled pleasantly dusty, as usual, and was filled with overstuffed chairs and book recommendations handwritten on index cards. The friendly tabby cat named Calvin spent nights at home with the owner.

Elijah pulled me deeper into the store until we were standing behind the bookcase that housed our poetry collection. I was slightly out of breath, more from adrenaline than exertion. My bodyguard cocked his head, listening for something I couldn't hear. The store was eerily silent. Hushed.

The front door started to shake. Something hit it so hard that I gasped. Elijah's hand shot out and covered my mouth, forcing me back against the wall. His focus was glued to the door, spine rigid. My heart rattled against my rib cage, more from the feel of his hand over my lips than the danger outside. Or maybe because of the danger. I shut my eyes against the onslaught of fantasies I couldn't prevent even if I wanted to.

Elijah, dragging me into the bathroom at a party. Shoving me back onto the counter, one hand over my mouth, the other working my cock. Rough and fast, aware of the voices outside, the threat of getting caught, because he knew how much I loved this kind of risk.

The sounds outside stopped, leaving that same eerie silence in its wake. Elijah released a long, quiet breath. His eyes sought mine, barely visible in the darkness and blazing with hunger. Then he dropped his hand from my mouth, looking dazed and contrite.

"Luke…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have?—"

"I'm the one who's sorry," I whispered. "You were so right the other day. My dad used people to get what he wanted and that's what I did to you. Immediately, as soon as we met. I'm an asshole?—"

"Lucas."

"No, Elijah, please. I haven't seen you in five days and I can't stop thinking about what you said. There's no excuse for my behavior. Just because I'm trying to expose a monster doesn't mean I have to become one. Definitely doesn't mean I have to threaten your job and your livelihood. If you want to assign someone else to protect me, I'd totally understand."

Elijah closed the gap between us with barely concealed frustration. "I protect you, Luke. Not anyone else. I keep you safe."

The sandpaper edge in his voice had me gulping. "O-okay. I still fucked up. Big time. And I'm sorry, truly."

"You're not…" He winced like he was in pain. "Luke, you're nothing like your father. I'm not excusing what you did. It was wrong. But I never should have implied you were like him. You're not, not even close. He was cold and dismissive and cruel. And you're…"

There were no sounds. No partygoers or outdoor revelers. No crashing waves or live music.

"What?" I asked softly. "What am I?"

His throat worked while he slowly flexed his fingers. "Warm. You're warm. And kind. And…charming."

My lips curved up. "Is that so?"

"You're also reckless and irritating and I've already lost years off my life working with you."

I snorted. "You could have left it at charming."

Elijah's lips twitched, eyes crinkling at the sides. It sent me surging up to grab his face. And I got close. So fucking close. But Elijah caught both of my wrists, halting my hands half an inch from his cheekbones.

And my mouth…my mouth hovered over his. His breath mingled with mine—hot, ragged.

"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered.

"Kissing you," I said huskily, captivated by his full lower lip. The gray hair at his temples. The ticking of his jaw.

His fingers tightened around me. "Why would you do that?"

"I want you, Elijah."

His breath hitched. He pushed me back against the wall and pinned my wrists down, bringing our faces close again.

Closer.

"And you think I want that too?" he murmured.

I arched an eyebrow. "You're staring at my mouth like you want to bite it."

His gaze flew up. "I'm protecting you."

"Is this how you keep your other clients safe?" I tipped my face to the side, bringing my lips just shy of his. "Pretending won't make it go away. You want me too."

With agonizing slowness, Elijah dropped his nose to the crook of my neck. Inhaled. Shuddered. Inhaled again. I was balanced on a knife's edge, barely breathing even as my pulse roared in my ears. I felt the very tip of his nose travel up the side of my neck, setting off every nerve ending in my body. A hushed groan fell from my lips and Elijah's grip on my wrists squeezed almost to the point of pain.

"What I want doesn't matter," he ground out. "Even if I did want you, I can't have you."

"That can't possibly be true," I said breathlessly as his mouth caressed my hair. Hot breath, grazing the side of my ear.

"It's the only truth that matters." His lips at my temple. His forehead, pressed to mine. "I break this rule, I lose everything."

Our chests heaved in the darkness, our labored breathing filling the silence.

"What if it wasn't about rules?" I whispered. "What if I was a stranger you took home for a night? Just one night, Elijah. Let me show you how much I want this, how much I want you."

A dangerous growl rumbled from the back of his throat. His lips roamed the side of my face—hardly there, barely there—and when he spoke, it was against my skin. "You couldn't handle me, Luke. I'm not sweet. I'm not gentle."

My hips rocked forward of their own volition, colliding with his. He pushed back, trapping me against the wall, and I felt every hard, thick inch of him.

"I'm right about you, aren't I?" I said. "You do like putting me in my place."

I felt his lips at my ear, the barest scrape of teeth. "If I took you home right now, I'd be giving this smart fucking mouth of yours something else to do."

I was flames—pure, incinerating flames. My head tipped back against the wall, my knees already weak.

"How about now?" I gasped. "Give it something else to do right the fuck now."

Elijah released me—and I hoped with every bone in my body it was to shove me to the floor. But he gripped my face instead, his fingers tender, his eyes searching my own as if convinced I couldn't possibly be real.

Beneath the wild rush of lust came the fluttering of my heart in my chest, a dip in my belly. The yearning in his expression took my breath away—he had the look of a man clinging to his last scrap of control.

"Elijah," I whispered. Pleaded. "Elijah, please."

A crashing sound reverberated from behind us—someone trying to break in from the back door. Elijah had us moving before I could even blink, out the front and then veering sharply to the left, where a black sedan waited with its lights off. I stumbled and Elijah caught me, but not before I whipped my head around to see who was giving chase.

I caught a glimpse of a tall person in a long black jacket, their face completely hidden in shadow. Elijah yanked open the car door and forced me in. Sylvester took off before I could get my seat belt on, so when he turned to head back toward the shoreline, I fell against Elijah's body with a very unsexy oooomf sound.

"We have to go back," I blurted, while trying to belt myself in. "Whoever was following us was right there."

Elijah was having a terse conversation with Sylvester.

"Elijah, the guy was right there."

His gaze snapped to mine, informal and businesslike. "We don't risk lives, especially not the lives of our clients. Trust that we've already alerted law enforcement and are providing them with every bit of information that we can."

"Or we can head back to the bookstore and see if they're still there. Once they see that I'm not my dad and I don't know jack shit about some flash drive, maybe they'll tell me what he did?—"

He leaned across the seat. "Mr. Beaumont, sir, it's not up for discussion."

I reared back, surprised, but noticed the way Sylvester's eyebrows knit together as he watched us in the rearview mirror.

I break this rule, I lose everything.

Gone was the passionate man who'd come this close to devouring me behind a bookcase, who'd inhaled my scent like a starved animal. Whatever minuscule shot I might have had with my bodyguard was gone, vanished as soon as the moment had passed.

The ache in the very core of my being hadn't vanished though.

Now I only wanted him more.

But I'd fucked it up again, as usual. I'd let him see my truest self tonight—messy, impulsive, desperate. Not Luke Beaumont, the rich kid with no ambition. Or Lucas Emerson Beaumont, the surprise heir to a tarnished legacy.

But me. The kid who'd cried in his brother's bed and slept scared beneath gargoyles and whose childhood nightmares stalked him into the present day.

My gaze drifted to Elijah, who sat ramrod straight and silent next to me.

People never wanted me the way I wanted them.