One man in particular grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away. Xander already had a hand on her back and managed to slide his arm around her waist and yank her tight against him. Rushing, he pushed through the crowd, all the while fighting his racing heart. Sweat covered his body but he managed to remain in the present. He always did. Unless he heard a loud sound that reminded him of Afghanistan, he’d be able to hold on to reality. Or so the therapist he’d seen when he’d come home had told him.
Fear for her filled him much more than any kind of panic for himself, because he’d heard stories of crazed fans lunging for famous targets and doing damage.
Xander caught sight of a man in a suit standing ready by the back door of a dark sedan.
“Miss Kingston,” he said, pulling open the door as they reached him.
Xander pushed her inside before joining her. The driver slammed the door shut and a few moments later, he was behind the wheel, driving them away from the crowd.
Chapter Four
Once in the back seat of the car, Sasha leaned back, her heart pounding in her chest. Being accosted by fans as well as photographers was a scary thing, and she tried hard not to be noticed but since becoming a household name, if she was spotted, she reacted accordingly, taking her safety seriously. In LA she grudgingly used security, but she’d really thought nobody would look for her in New York before filming started. She’d been so stupid to think she could go out and not be recognized.
Thank God Xander had pulled her against him and rushed for the car.
Xander.
She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his jaw tight, a muscle throbbing in his temple. She knew in that instant all the progress they’d made over the meal had dispersed with the crowd.
“Why the hell don’t you have a bodyguard?” he asked.
She blew out a long breath. “Because I don’t want to live like that.”
He frowned at her reply. “That’s a case of be careful what you wish for,” he muttered, more than a hint of frustration in his tone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He turned toward her. “Do I really need to spell it out for you? You have everything you dreamed of. Now you need to acknowledge it and take care of yourself.”
She glared at him. “Wow, that’s patronizing.”
His serious gaze bore into hers and he grasped her shoulders. “It’s common sense! Do you realize what could have happened if that guy had grabbed you and I hadn’t been there?”
His concern for her was surprising given the distance he’d been keeping. And she didn’t want to consider the scenario he was talking about because he was right. She’d read about celebrities accosted and hurt by crazy fans.
“I’m fine,” she assured him as well as herself.
“But what if you weren’t?” Fire blazed in his blue eyes as his grip on her tightened.
He wasn’t hurting her but his intensity was extreme. And she knew why. Given his military history and the IED blast that had taken him out of commission, he had an overprotective streak for those he cared about. She didn’t delude herself that she was one of those people. Not anymore. But the crush of people and the overeager male fan had triggered him.
She reached up and touched her hand to his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard for the first time. “We’re both safe,” she said softly.
His gaze fell to her lips, and his eyes darkened in a way she recognized. Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach flipped as awareness settled between them. She leaned in, all the while wondering what she was doing. She’d barely survived losing him the first time. Not that he knew how she’d fallen apart, and she felt certain he’d never believe her if she told him. Because he’d been right. She had put her career front and center.
But with his mouth so close to hers, she couldn’t worry about the past and kissed him before he could change his mind.
He stilled at the touch of her lips to his, and her breath caught as she waited for him to pull away.
He didn’t.
Instead, he turned her against the back seat of the car and took charge, clearly needing to feel in control of himself, of her, and of life in general. One hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek while his mouth devoured, his tongue sliding back and forth, tangling with hers.
She’d missed him. Missed this and drowned in his familiar scent and taste. His beard scratched her face and she didn’t care. The sensation aroused her, and she wanted so much more than a kiss in the back seat of a car. But she’d take what she could get and threaded her fingers through his short hair, lightly scratching his scalp and getting a harsh groan in reply.