Page 48 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
But I’m stronger, and I manage to uncurl those fingers one by one. She’s like a cat, clawing a tree branch for dear life.
“Miss, it’s time for you to leave The Extravagant,” a voice booms.
Hotel security marches up to us, a trio of men in suits, ready to finish the job.
“Thanks, guys,” I say as they grab her, tug her away, and escort her off the premises.
With my arm around Stone the whole time, I punch the elevator key code in, step into the lift, and breathe out hard when the doors slide shut.
I look him over. Whoa. His chest is on display. His gray shirt hangs in tatters on his arms, the middle ripped down to the top of his abs.
I blink. “She ripped your shirt off.”
He glances down, pushes out a laugh, and swallows roughly as he regards the sartorial damage. “Yeah, she did.”
I step closer as the elevator rises and set my hands on his shoulders, worry flashing through me. That was a close call. Closer than we’re used to. “You okay? I didn’t want to make a scene. I know you hate that.”
“I do. Thank you for taking care of it.” A vein in his neck pulses quickly. “I’m good.”
But I want to be certain. That’s my job. “Yeah? You sure you’re okay?”
“Positive. I mean, screaming fans are part of the job, even ones who get up close and personal, but not so damn grabby. And that’s why I’m glad you were there.”
“So I could be the bad cop? Keep them away?”
Stone smiles. “Exactly. I’m grateful, man. I needed you.” He licks his lips, taking a breath. “I need you . . .” His eyes lock with mine. Heat shines in his irises.
Desire too.
And so much longing.
It’s just adrenaline. Just the moment, amped up after the trouble in the lobby.
But the moment is . . . irresistible.
The air sparks with electricity and buzzes with unfinished business.
And all the days of holding back threaten to unspool in one half-ripped T-shirt, the look in his eyes, and the weight of his words.
“I need you too,” I say, my voice a barren whisper, my hands still curled tight on his shoulders.
He inches closer, like he’s about to kiss me.
And it’s the only thing I want in the world.
But I stop him.
Elevators have cameras.
Hotels have employees with access to cameras.
Employees who might leak photos of us to the press. To TMZ. To the paparazzi. To anyone. I have to think for both of us, because photos of the rock star kissing his bodyguard in a Las Vegas elevator would be worth lots of money.
They’d do nothing to harm him.
But they’d pretty much kill any hope of future employment for me. Not just with him, but with anyone.
More than that, if anything is happening between the two of us, it’s not going to happen publicly.
Whatever is going on is private.
I push back on his shoulders, stopping him before his lips reach mine, before his face comes too close. My head swims with desire as I whisper, “There are cameras in the elevator. Anyone can see us.”
He swallows roughly. Nods. Steps away.
My hands feel empty.
My skin aches for him.
The minute-long ride to his floor lasts hours. It takes eons to reach our destination.
In that endless span, my desire does not abate. It’s not quenched. That’s the trouble. Nothing at all seems to quench it.
We reach his floor. The doors open. We step out.
Can I cool off? That’s the question.
I walk down the hall by his side, something I’ve done countless times. But this time feels like an end.
Like I’m drawing a final line in the sand.
Like if I don’t go in tonight, I’ll never go in.
The thought of never touching him again is horrifying.
But that’s the deal.
This is my job. This is my life.
We reach his door, and I hope I have the strength to resist. He stops in front of it. I’m inches behind him. Head bent, Stone murmurs, “Do you want to come in?”
I close my eyes, the punishing wave of lust crashing over me, threatening to tug me under its weight.
Do I want to go in?
I want it more than I want food.
More than sanity.
More than I’ve ever wanted another person.
I close my eyes, swaying closer, my chest brushing against his back, the press of our bodies clouding all my judgment.
With my mouth near his ear, I whisper, “More than you can ever know.”
He trembles. A shuddery breath escapes his lips. “But you’re not going to let yourself?”
I run my nose along his neck, inhaling his scent. “I want to resist you. I don’t want to compromise you.”
Stone shudders. “I’m already compromised.”
He wedges a hand behind him, between us, sliding it over my stomach and down to the front of my pants, along the ridge of my erection.
I nearly die of desire. There isn’t enough strength in me to contain it. But somehow I find the will, stepping away. “You told your brother you wouldn’t get involved.”
