Damaged Like Us (Like Us 1)

The man snickers. “If you don’t tell me how Calloway pussy tastes, then I’ll just find out myself. Starting with the youngest one—”

Ryke lunges and swings—

Maximoff abruptly clicks off his phone. The screen blinks to black. Taking a huge breath, he asks me, “Did that video remind you of me?” He stares me dead in the eye. Building defenses against my upcoming response.

I want to be transparent with him. No hoarding secrets, no doling out lies, but this truth will hurt him a little. I suck in a breath through my teeth. Pinching my fingers, I say, “Seventy-five percent.”

Maximoff digests this silently and then he eyes my fingers, obsessed with my hands for some precious reason. “Your seventy-five percent looks a hell of a lot like two-percent.”

I smile, and as the music booms, I have to raise my voice. “Then you’re not looking closely enough!”

“Purposefully!” he shouts back, gripping his cellphone in a tight fist.

I chew my gum, assessing his tense state. Turning my head into his neck, my lips a breath from his ear, I say, “Lean back with me.”

“What?” He stiffens.

I raise my brows. “He’s never relaxed on a couch.” I let out a long whistle. “The new things I’m showing him.”

Maximoff realizes what I mean. He pockets his phone like he’s accepting a bet, and then he slides back until his spine hits the leather. His shoulders unwind, somewhat.

After a short, silent beat, he says, “Thanks for being honest with me. I mean it.”

I hear the deep sincerity in his voice. “Anytime, wolf scout.”

Our arms touch unconsciously, and when our heads turn towards one another, our faces are only a couple inches apart.

The air seems to crack with that familiar, hard-to-breathe tension that I felt weeks ago when I massaged him. Our gazes grip securely.

In my head, I can be his bodyguard and sleep with him.

I’m that good. And it’s that simple.

In his head, I’m not sure what’s going on up there.

He inhales strongly, his chest rising, and his gaze bores into mine, searching for a sign. Mine caress his like the stroke of flesh against flesh. I want to slide nearer. I want to wrap my arm across his shoulders and close the two-inch distance.

My muscles tighten as I stay still, pulse pounding. And the next look he wears, I know that look. The look that melts his forest-green eyes and softly and forcefully begs, kiss me.

I breathe, my body doused with kerosene. Lit on fire, and just before I make a move, a sound, a clearer, more visible acknowledgement for him, his gaze just drops.

Off of me completely. To the ground, then the bar where girls start squealing in glee at the eye contact he gives them.

I grit down, pained like someone ripped out a rib. I comb my hands through my hair, and Maximoff stands up.

I stand not a millisecond after. “Where are you going?” I ask tensely.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, and then shakes his head like he’s trying to catch his bearings.

“We need to talk,” I say, but he can’t hear me over the sudden switch in songs, a hardcore rock anthem blasting. He’s already leaving the VIP area.

I follow. Step-for-step beside him, and a stool instantly opens at the crowded bar. Maximoff smiles at a short brunette in a sequined mini-dress. “You can sit!” he tells her. “Don’t get up for me!”

I restrain an eye roll.

She giggles.

He flags down the bartender and orders drinks.

For his safety, I have no other choice but to do my job. I stand behind him like an intimidating authority, someone that says don’t fuck with him. Since he wants to be approached tonight, I shouldn’t be scowling this hard.

I’m out of the way, but in the way. Unseen, but seen. All of those oxymorons are killing me tonight.

She gasps and says, “No way!” a thousand times.

Moffy leans down, cups his hand by her ear, and whispers for a full two minutes. Her eyes glow like she hit a jackpot, and she nods repeatedly.

I can only imagine that he’s telling her he wants to fuck her. In a subtler way but still blunt. Upfront. Sex only.

I spit my gum into my wrapper, my jaw aching. I pocket the thing, and then the girl hops off the barstool and heads for the bathroom.

Maximoff stays by the bar, and since this is my first time being his bodyguard while he’s trying to get ass, I’m somewhat in the dark. It’s not like he listed this in his rules.

He faces me. “We need to talk!” He has one-hundred percent padlocked his feelings. I glare, his face so impassive, so inexpressive—you’d think he’s channeling Connor Cobalt. His uncle who can will away emotion whenever he likes.

I hate it.

I step towards him and whisper in the pit of his ear. “Are we discussing your flirting techniques?” I unwrap a new piece of gum while he struggles to hide his feelings.

Let it out, wolf scout.

He gestures to me. “I assume you’re asking for advice.”

I smile and pop gum in my mouth. “That’s funny, I assumed you wanted advice from me.”

“You should look up the word joke because I don’t think you know the definition of funny.”

I whistle. “You’re just on a fucking roll today, aren’t you?” He can’t answer. A server swoops in with his earlier drink order. Club soda for him and a cocktail for the girl. She sets the cocktail on the bar, and I grab the club soda off the tray.

I pause before I put my lips to the rim. “You’ve never taken a sip of alcohol,” I say to Moffy, “which means you don’t know what it tastes like.”

He stares at me, blank faced. “Is there a question in there or are you just Nancy Drew-ing shit out loud?”

“I’m more of a Hardy Boy, but nice try.” Our eyes lock, more headily, all the while I put my lips to the glass and sip.

Sharp alcohol bites my tongue. “It’s spiked with vodka.” I look for the server.

“Just let it go. It’s not a big deal.” When he sees me searching for a server, he adds, “Farrow, it’s fine.”

He refuses to complain, but he can send back a spiked drink. And if the act makes him feel like an asshole, I’ll fucking do it for him.

Maximoff tells me, “Declan would just drop it.”

“I’m not Declan,” I remind him for the forty-fourth time this week. I catch a server’s attention. “I need a bottled water, sealed.” I give her a fifty-dollar bill.

“Right away.” She darts behind the bar, scoots beside the bartender, and then tosses me a bottled water. When I turn around to Maximoff, he looks stunned.

He licks his lips, emotion raising his carriage.

“Take it.” I pass the water.

He holds the bottled water like he’s never seen Evian before.

“It’s just water.”

Maximoff is frozen still. “You didn’t have to do that.” He means get him the water.

“Okay, but I did.” It’s not the first time he’s been like this after I helped him. I step closer. “Don’t you see, Maximoff? There’s a cement wall in front of you, and you’ve just been told to be satisfied with staring at it.” He listens intently. “And so you just stand there, not able to see the other side.” The wall is paparazzi.

The wall is the people who spike his drink.

The wall is hecklers and his lack of privacy.

Screw it all.

“What’s the alternative?” he combats. “Me hating my life?”

“No!” I shout as chatter escalates around us. “It’s my job to help you over the wall! Declan may’ve told you to accept the shit in your life, but I’m going to give you what you’ve never been given!”

Like a bottled water, for one.

That’s a solution that Declan never thought of. Or maybe he just listened to Maximoff stubbornly say just let it go.

Maximoff opens his mouth to speak, but the brunette slips up beside him. Yanking his attenti

on to the left, and he tells her, “Give me one more second! Your drink is on the bar!”

“Take your time! I’ll be waiting!” She bites her bottom lip and slides onto her stool.

My pulse is wedged in my esophagus.

Maximoff whispers in my ear, “The talk I wanted to have with you…” His voice is noticeably tight. “I can’t have her in my car unless she signs an NDA. So you’ll need to take her to the VIP section while I hang around the club’s security.”

This is really happening. I don’t blink.

Do your motherfucking job, Farrow.

Shit.

I have to stay professional. I have to give him what he wants, and if this is it…

I ask him, “You don’t want to be around for that conversation?”

He shakes his head. “My presence usually pressures them, and I want her to sign the NDA on her own terms.”

I have no real ability to nod or to even force a smile. My body refuses, but I’m able to lean back from him. A painfully cold acceptance mortars my features like brick on brick. This is about to be hell. A hell that I’m obligated to walk through, and really, it’s my fault.

For liking him in the first place.

In the briefest second, our eyes touch, but I’m the one who bails on the moment this time. My head swerves towards the bar. “Okay!” I yell back at Moffy.

On my way to the girl, I lower my volume on my radio, the soft chatter grating on me all of a sudden. Just when I look up at the brunette, a strong hand grabs my bicep from behind.