Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security 3)

This is going to be my end.

Fantasizing, imagining what she’d look like splayed out like the best gift in the world is one thing. Watching her take herself over the edge is something that will be burned into my memories for a lifetime. Do I even want to forget? Hell no, but it’s the only choice.

Her birthday party is coming fast. If she behaves like she has been this week, maybe I can convince Deacon to talk to the Blairs into hiring a less invasive company to come keep an eye on her. Staying here is going to lead to one thing, and that’s her on her back begging me to thrust harder. It’s complications like that no man needs in his life.

Unable to stay this close to her, I grab all of my shit, stuffing it into my luggage, and leave the upstairs. I shove open the door to one of the staff bedrooms and toss my suitcase and duffel to the floor.

My skin itches, the minimal distance I’ve managed is still too close. The scent of her is inside of me, taunting and teasing me to go to her. My cock refuses to flag, regardless of the attention I’m denying it. The damn thing has never been so stubborn before.

Never—not ever—has a woman made me this insane. Not even the one that cost me the job at the Bureau. I thought she was my downfall, the reason my life took the turn I never anticipated. She’s got nothing on Remington Blair. Nothing on the sight of her in that fucking bed. Jesus, she took off up the stairs like her ass was on fire.

I only followed to make sure she was okay. She was more than okay, legs open, fingers circling—

“Fuck!” I roar, gaining control mere seconds before punching a hole in the wall.

It’s a game, right? It has to be. This is what she does, isn’t it? She teases and taunts, seduces the men hired to watch after her. But to what end? To get them fired, replaced? Is she hoping to end up with one that will just turn a blind eye to her erratic behaviors?

Considering the possibility that what just happened was all a damn show, that others have seen the same thing I just witnessed makes my blood overheat.

But she didn’t taunt and tease me today while we watched television. She had sat on the couch, maintained the distance between us, and fidgeted like she couldn’t stand to be near me. She didn’t utter a word yesterday either for her after-birthday party declaration of who she plans to spend the night with—me.

“God if only,” I hiss, giving in and gripping my cock over my sweats. “No. Fuck, no. Get a grip on yourself, Coleman.”

I huff, my hand actually squeezing my dick. I release it with a jerk of my hand, opting to scrub my hands down my face.

A quick, very cold shower doesn’t help, even though I refuse to jack off. Giving in to that is the first step in giving in to her, and I’m too damn close to the edge already.

I don’t bother drying my hair before leaving the room and heading to the security office, only to stop dead in my tracks.

“You look like shit.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Is she keeping you up all night?” I turn my head, ignoring Ignacio and glare at Gaige.

“She hasn’t snuck out in a while.”

I’ve never really been a violent man, only using force when necessary, but there’s something about the guys being here a day early that makes me want to start swinging. I should be glad to see them, knowing they’ll be the distraction I need to put some distance between the succubus and me, but more than half of me is a little bitter about the interruption.

See? A man crazed for a woman is a very dangerous thing. It’s like I’m drugged, intoxicated on her and ready to bite the head off of anyone who steps into the path of me getting to her.

“So you’ve been staying in and keeping her busy?” Both Ignacio and Gaige chuckle like school children at Quinten’s words.

“You guys are missing out!” I spin around, my mouth hanging open as Finnegan walks up behind me with a chicken drumstick in his huge paw. “Margarita is an amazing cook.”

He takes another bite, smirking as he chews.

I spin and glare at Ignacio.

“What? Look at that innocent face. I couldn’t say no.”

“Dick move of you to even suggest not letting me come,” Finnegan says, his accent as heavy and thick as the shove he gives my shoulder as he pushes past me to plop in the office chair.

“The gang’s all here,” Gaige says as he rubs his hands together.

“For work,” I remind them, sweeping my eyes to meet each pair in the room. “A day early.”