Tough Luck (A-List Security 1)

“That’s sad.” I resolved to get him in this tub before our stay ended

“Eh.” He took a long sip of tea. “It was what it was.”

“Do you ever think about going back home?” I asked. Personally, I hated when I had to deal with command appearances for one of my parents, but I had decidedly muddled emotions about how even those requests had dwindled. I was bad for my father’s image, and my mother wasn’t ever getting over me suing her. Probably for the best. I didn’t need their toxic energy, but like I’d told Cash earlier, I couldn’t completely squash the small spark of hope, the part of me that missed what I’d never had.

“Nah. Nothing for me there.” He scratched his chest, ruffling his fuzz. “My parents haven’t become any more functional, and both my sisters married pieces of shit who make my dad look like a saint.”

“Wait. You have sisters?” I sat forward in the tub.

“Yeah. They’re a bunch older. I was the surprise. They were eight and ten when I came along and already besties finding trouble together. I’ve got nieces and nephews your age.” Forehead wrinkling, he twisted his mouth before chuckling. “Probably better to not think about that too hard. Anyway, nothing for me in that town. I need some place to live, but not there.”

“You need a home,” I said softly. I wished I could give him that. I’d stay in this cabin forever if it meant getting to keep on pretending he was mine.

“Yeah.” He yawned, and I couldn’t tell if he was faking it to change the subject. “Damn. This sun is making me sleepy. Anyway, thanks for the reminder of what a fucking crapshoot family is. I’ve offered help to my sisters before. They always say no. I’d rather save my energy for projects I’ve got a chance of success with.”

I bit my lip. “Is that what I am?”

“A project?” He frowned. “Of course not. You’re… I’m not sure what you are, honestly. I’m still figuring that out.”

“That’s okay.” I studied the rippling water. I supposed “not sure” was better than some of the alternatives. “We don’t have to put a label on it.”

“But you’re definitely not a project. I’ll leave the rescues to Duncan.” He laughed.

I couldn’t join him in laughing, could barely speak around the lump in my throat. “But you kind of are rescuing me.”

“You’re rescuing you. I’m keeping you safe. There’s a difference,” he said firmly, and my throat eased a good deal.

“Yeah.” I was impressed he could see what I couldn’t articulate. And talk about bargains with the universe. I never wanted to disappoint this man. The world had let Cash down over and over again, and I refused to be one more thing for him to wash his hands of. “I’m trying, at least. And I’m grateful for you keeping me safe. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

My voice did an embarrassing wobble at the end, and apparently, that was finally enough to rouse him from his chair. He came to crouch next to the tub, dropping a kiss on my head. “You’re not. Promise.”

He ran a hand through my wet hair, tipping my head back for a kiss so gentle I had to hold on to the sides of the tub to keep from dissolving into nothing more than the bubbles filling my soul. I wanted to drown in all his sweetness, chase away thoughts of what it meant that he couldn’t label what we were, and send all my worries about being more burden than he wanted to handle down the drain.

“I should get out of the tub. I’m turning into a prune.” I made myself laugh before finding his mouth for another kiss, soaking up more of that sweet tenderness until all I knew was my want for him. “Or I could drag you in here with me.”

“Never.” He faked wide-eyed horror before offering me a hand up and wrapping me in a fluffy towel. “Out you come. We should think about dinner anyway.”

Rather than release me, he toweled me off, rubbing my shoulders and arms.

“We should think about the appetizer first.” My voice came out a near-purr from the pleasure of him drying me off. “I want you more than I want food.”

“I’d tell you to be patient, but you have none.” He chuckled.

“Who needs patience when we can have a before-dinner fuck?”

“This is true.” He held me a little closer, already hard against my ass. “Yeah. I suppose we can mess around before we worry about food.”

“I want to fuck.” Turning, I looped my arms around his neck. “I want to play the first-time game again. Pretend it’s my first time and yours both. I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be me too.” He drew me to him for a long kiss, warming me far more than the towel or the sun. “But don’t we need…?”