Page 42 of Last First Kiss
No, Annabelle had had enough for one day. He refused for her to have to endure one more thing. Instead of checking on her again, he took a shower and got dressed, contemplating whether or not he should he even go to the event.
After he finished dressing, he sat on his couch to wait for the limo which would be there in about twenty minutes. He felt uncomfortable leaving her there sleeping, though. It was making him restless. What if she had a concussion, or needed more pain meds. With a huff, he stood to go check up on her again. As he rounded the corner, he saw her walk down the stairs.
It was a punch to the gut.
Every time he saw this woman something happened to him. It was as if all the air left his lungs.
“You look . . .” He couldn’t put the right words together. His mind was blown and his tongue was stuck. Annie had on a long, form-fitting dress. It was simple and . . . of course, black. Except for the yellow dress she wore to the dinner party, everything she wore was black. But it showcased her entire body, hugging her small waist and pushing up her breasts. Her hair was down and had some waves he’d never seen on her before. The only thing that had color was her bloodred lips. How he wanted to see those plump red lips wrapped around his hardening cock.
“Looking very dapper, Mr. Monroe.”
“You are breathtaking.” The blush that slowly built from the swell of her breast up her neck to her cheeks was a thing of beauty. He’d never get enough of seeing her shy and vulnerable. It was as if no one had ever complimented her . . . and it was odd because she was gorgeous. And, not just gorgeous to him, but gorgeous in a standard of beauty kind of way. Her facial features and her body . . . she was made to be looked at. Gawked at. Worshipped. But instead, compliments made her look a little uncomfortable so he went back to what she knew best. Humor. “Where could you possibly keep a weapon in that dress?”
A slow, cheeky smile spread across her face. She lifted her dress up to her thighs, and he thought he would pass out. He needed those thighs squeezing his head as he licked her. He’d never fantasized so hard about anything before in his life. Her pale lean legs went on and on and the muscle on her thigh was fucking winking at him with that deep indent of muscle. She pulled out her black weapon from a strap.
“Nice,” he croaked. Then she tucked it back in and shifted her leg and pulled an impressive knife from her inner thigh. “Well, I guess you’re ready.” He swallowed, hard.
“Always,” she said, dropping the dress back down to the floor.
For some reason it bothered him that she was ready to fight for him. To protect him. It was archaic, and if he voiced it she’d surely kick his ass and never speak to him again. But he wanted to be the one to protect her, not vice versa. And also, if she was carrying, that meant she was on his arm only as a ruse. She was just his bodyguard. It was, after all, what they had discussed, why they were living together, why she was going to the gala with him. But for some reason, somewhere deep inside, he wished it was different.
He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re good with makeup.”
She smiled and shrugged. “Who knew?”
Did she remember what she had confessed? He wanted to ask, to pry. To understand.
“You okay?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing together as she righted her dress. He had been unintentionally staring.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, shaking his head out of its stupor.
“Are you worried that I won’t have it under control? I’m fine, really. Sleeping it off helped. If anyone tries anything, I’m ready.” And damn, that just added to his thoughts. She didn’t get it, and she never would. He wasn’t worried about her ability to do her job, he was worried about her. But all her thoughts always came back to her work, and she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see that what they had was starting to become a lot more than just work.
“I’m sure you’re ready for anything, Tiger,” he said, grabbing his coat. “Let’s go.”
Something passed over her face but before he had a chance to ask, she began to walk.
He opened the door, but before she walked through she stopped and turned. “Thank you. For today, I mean. You were very sweet, taking care of me. Thank you.”
“Not even a thing, Annie.”
She smiled shyly and got into his car. The car ride over to the gala was quiet. She was on her phone typing away the entire time.
“Joey called while you were asleep.”
She shook her phone in his direction. “Yeah, I saw that. He texted me a dozen times and the last one says something about you being an asshole.”
Rocco chuckled.
If they ever decided to go for it, even if it was just a four-month arrangement, would he be able to handle her job? How could any man allow his woman to do this kind of work? How could he allow her to live with another man if she ever had a job with another male client? All of this was whirling in his mind and by the time the limo parked he was all worked up. But then his thoughts kept coming back to the “virgin” thing.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Is that really a good idea? I’m on bodyguard duty right now.”
He turned his body so that he was closer to her, almost caging her in. “Your tongue was in my mouth less than twenty-four hours ago. Do you do that with all your clients, Annabelle?”
Her eyes were saucers and he could see her swallowing before she narrowed them and shoved him away. “What do you want to know, Monroe?”
