Page 24 of Rough Return

It wasn’t until he pulled into her driveway around one of Max’s cars that he made his plan. Tonight, he would give Fiona what she wanted, what they both wanted, then he would get up and leave. And he would make her understand they couldn’t bring a baby into their fake relationship. He would be the guy she expected him to be, an asshole who only looked out for himself and didn’t stick around for the after-glow cuddle.

He helped her off the bike, pulled her up the steps and waited while she worked to unlock the door. She didn’t have them completely inside when he turned her and backed her against the wall.

The kiss was meant to mark her, to make her as desperate as he felt. Years of pent up passion pulsated inside him, begging for release. He held her hands over her head as he ran his tongue down her throat to her collarbone while his free hand cupped her breast and his hips ground against hers.

So perfect. Desire rocked him, made him want to lay her down on the floor and take her. Stick to the plan. He broke away. Took two full steps back, panting as if he’d just run the four-minute mile.

He wanted her so badly he couldn’t see anything but her swollen lips, her heaving breasts, her heavy-lidded eyes. It took all his will, every ounce of self-control he possessed not to go to her and continue. “Go put on something sexy.” Not that he needed her to change clothes to turn him on or that what she was wearing wasn’t sexy enough. He just needed the time to pull himself together.

“I could just take this off.” She shucked her shirt, tossing it onto the back of the sofa. Her nipples strained against another of those barely-there lace bras and any blood that might have been left in his brain went straight to his dick.

He didn’t answer just stared at her. Because he couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words with his tongue lolling half down his throat.

She licked her lips and squeaked out an “okay” before she turned to go up to her room. Grier went to the kitchen, didn’t bother with a glass, pulled the vodka from the freezer, and took a long, necessary drink. Then another before he returned to the living room and gave the staircase a thoughtful glance. Heaven waited at the top of those steps. Probably a little hell, too.

Before he made it halfway, some asshat knocked at the front door, an asshat with really bad timing.

Grier considered ignoring it but turned and went back. As he swung the door open, a man, tall, blond, tattooed, and dressed all in black, stood on the porch. And since Grier wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, he didn’t bother. “What do you want?”

The man pushed past him. “Fiona around? She hired me today as security, and I’m here to clear her place.”

“Her place doesn’t need clearing.” Something about this guy, the predatory look around, the way he walked to make himself seem taller, the way he plopped on the sofa to wait for a Fiona who was otherwise engaged, pissed Grier off. “Get out.”

The guy shook his head. “Can’t do it. Need to make sure the lady is okay with you as her protection.” The cocked eyebrow and the up and down look was overkill insulting.

Grier chuckled without the mirth. “You have a name? I like to know whose ass I’m kicking when I’m kicking it.”

And he had the nerve to laugh. “Tyler Sedotal. Fiona’s personal security.”

“I’m Fiona’s personal security.”

“Apparently, she doesn’t think so.” He kicked his boots onto her coffee table and laced his fingers behind his head. “Maybe she thinks you’re planning on running off again.” He shrugged and Grier’s blood boiled. “If I was you, though, I wouldn’t worry about what your woman thinks. I would worry about what your men think that your woman went behind your back and hired someone to protect her.” He widened his eyes. “Oh wait. They’re her men, aren’t they?” He pursed his lips. “So, tell me, what does that make you?”

“That makes me the guy who’s going to kick your ass out of here.” He moved, grabbed the prick by his shirt and yanked him to his feet.

In Grier’s defense, Tyler took the first swing. It thrust Grier backward, into the hanging television that crashed to the floor. Grier rebounded and caught Tyler’s jaw with a right hook. He staggered but stayed on his feet and kicked his leg out to sweep Grier’s knees as Fiona came downstairs in a robe that barely hid the nightie beneath. Black ribbons held the lace together and Grier had a compelling urge to block her from Tyler’s view. But since he was still on the ground, face hovering just above the carpet with Tyler’s knee in his back, nothing much he could do.

“What the hell is going on down here?” She looked at the furniture knocked askew then glared from Grier to Tyler. “And what the hell are you doing here?”

“Came to sweep your place as we discussed this afternoon.”

She crossed her arms as Tyler stood and Grier made it to his feet. “A little late for that now, don’t you think?” She rolled her eyes. “I see you’ve met my husband.”

Grier swiped the back of his hand over his busted lip. “You hired him for security?”

She turned to him all icy anger. “Well, I’ve spent so much time alone lately.”

His fault? She’d found a way to make hiring this asshat Grier’s fault? She had to be kidding. But there was nothing playful in her glare. Nothing that said she was the same woman who wanted him in her bed not ten minutes earlier. “I’m here now.”

She rolled her eyes, scoffed even. “But leaving as soon as we finish, no doubt.”

Grier shook his head, shamed she could read him. His skin had to be fifty shades of embarrassed. “Can we not do this in front of this guy?”

“You’re shy now?”

If that fucker said one more word, Grier would be happy to chime the bell for round two.

“Go home, Grier. Wherever it is, we both know you never planned it to be here.” Her voice dropped, and she wouldn’t lift her gaze to look at him.