Muscle for Hire(23)

“Is there a problem?”

The guard shook his head. “Just the normal over-zealous fans trying to get at Chris Huntley. We busted a fairly determined woman earlier this afternoon trying to con her way in. She said she was with the catering firm.” He chuckled. “Staggers me the lengths these women will go to. The old duck would have had more chance if she wasn’t wearing a Twice Too Many T-shirt.”

Aslin’s nerve-endings fired. He narrowed his eyes. “Did she have red hair? Obviously dyed?”

The guard nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. Real charmer she was. Never heard so many swear words come out of the mouth of a woman before, and I’ve worked security at a Nick Blackthorne concert.” He made a snorting sound. “Now there’s some seriously zealous fans. I had to save the guy’s girlfriend years ago when a group of squealing women turned on her during the show.” He shook his head again. “Insane. Just insane.”

“Wow,” Rowan spoke beside Aslin. “Didn’t Blackthorne’s bodyguard protect her?”

“Not during the show, he didn’t.” The guard pulled a face. “But I’ve never been convinced about these celebrity bodyguards. They all carry on like they’re invincible. Reckon one hard punch and they’d be out like a light.”

“I think you’re right,” Rowan agreed. Aslin didn’t need to look at her to know she was trying not to laugh. “I suspect they are a bunch of pussies.” She paused, a prickling heat on his profile telling him she wasn’t looking at the guard anymore. He slid his gaze to her, the laughter in her eyes making his stomach clench. “Pussies in designer leather jackets, of course.”

“Hell, yeah.” The guard snorted. “Wonder what they’d be like in a real fight? Too worried about getting their clothes damaged, I reckon.” He shook his head, as if disgusted by the notion.

For a dangerous moment, the urge to lean forward, gaze into the man’s eyes and introduce himself came over Aslin. If for no other reason than to see him squirm. Instead, he ground his teeth and pocketed his I.D. pass. Beside him, Rowan chuckled.

“Anyways.” The guard gave them both a wide smile. “I better keep doing my rounds. Don’t forget about the gate guard. Sorry ’bout the light in your eyes and all.”

“No worries,” Aslin said. “You’re just doing your job.”

Beside him, Rowan burst out laughing.

Five minutes later, they were on his bike heading for Chris’s harbour-side hotel.

Rowan’s thighs hugged his hips, her body heat a constant promise of what might happen when they arrived at Chris’s penthouse suite in the Park Hyatt.

Aslin’s head swam at the thought. Would they finally surrender to the overwhelming sexual chemistry between them? His dick throbbed, stiff with anticipation. That the thrumming of his bike’s powerful engine radiated through his balls only sweetened the pleasure in his groin.

When he pulled in front of the hotel, every muscle in his body was on fire.

He planted his foot on the road, killed the engine and held his bike steady as Rowan climbed off. The absence of her body pressed to his sent a chill through his heat. An emptiness he wasn’t prepared for stole through his soul.

Are you falling for her already, boyo?

Throat thick, he slid the visor of his borrowed helmet up and turned to see her remove his helmet from her head.

She stood motionless beside his bike, her ponytail falling over her shoulder in a tumble of messy waves, her gaze unreadable as it found his face.

He drew a steadying breath. “Wait for me in the lobby.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her teeth caught her bottom lip.

“Evening, sir, ma’am. Are you checking in?”

The cheerful voice to Rowan’s left jerked Aslin’s stare from her face. The hotel’s parking valet stood beside her, bestowing them both with a wide smile.

Before Aslin could answer, Rowan shook her head. “No. He’s just dropping me off.”

Aslin’s gut clenched. He controlled his frown. “Am I?”

Rowan nodded, her teeth no longer worrying her bottom lip. “This is too much, Aslin. Too much too quickly. I want you, but I realized on the ride here I need to take a breath. To think.”

Beside her, the valet cleared his throat. “Shall I—”

Aslin didn’t move his focus from her face. “It’s just sex, Rowan.”

She shook her head, her eyebrows pulling into a brief frown. “No. It isn’t. And that’s the issue.”

The parking valet mumbled something and then, head down, cheeks red, hurried away.

Aslin ground his teeth. She was correct. It wasn’t. He knew it, and so did she.