GETTING OFF FROM THE LOOK on her face, I smiled. It took balls to ask me if I was a breast man, I’d give her that. If she had ten years on her, I probably would’ve been fucking her on the kitchen counter by now.

She rolled her eyes, giving me the exact reminder I needed.

No matter how slamming her body was, or how big her tits were, she was a goddamn teenager.

Nineteen.

Jesus fuck.

Needing to concentrate on anything other than her tits or fucking her, I laid out the sandwich shit. Quietly watching me, she didn’t say anything until I had the food plated and was holding it out to her.

She stared at the sandwich. “My stepmom used to cook for me. Even after she divorced my father, she kept up with the Sunday dinners.” Her eyes met mine. “It’s not like Leo Amherst ever cooked for me.”

I fought to keep from calling her old man a tool. He hadn’t called his only kid once since I’d picked her up from rehab, let alone checked-in with me or Luna to see if she was still in one piece. And I wasn’t touching the fact that he couldn’t be bothered to pick her up himself. “I’m not your father, and I didn’t cook.” I assembled. “It’s a sandwich.”

She took the plate and dropped her gaze. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” I sat down next to her. Then I did what I hadn’t done in years, except for the restaurant this afternoon—I ate a meal with a woman.

No words between us, she finished her sandwich, and I didn’t know what I liked more. The fact that she ate it all or that the silence between us was comfortable and she didn’t feel the need to fill it. The irony wasn’t lost on me that the similarities between us were stacking up.

Without comment, she stood and took our plates to the sink.

I watched her in the kitchen, and truth be told, I never imagined a woman in here. I’d bought the place as a backup, somewhere to get off the grid. And when I’d furnished it, I definitely hadn’t been thinking about a woman. But seeing her in my kitchen, her small hands washing the heavy plates I’d bought because they’d looked like they’d take a beating without breaking, the shit circumstances of my life were suddenly in my face.

The countertops were too high for her.

The plates were too heavy.

The sink was too deep for her to comfortably set dishes in.

The upper cupboards were eye level with her.

She didn’t fit a goddamn thing about this place, but fuck me, she looked damn good in my kitchen.

Setting the last fork on the drain board, she shut the water off, then dried her hands on a kitchen towel I wasn’t sure I’d washed before I put it out. Carefully folding it back over the oven door, she turned to me. “Thanks for dinner.” Her cheeks flushed. “And lunch.”

Staring at her, I didn’t get up. “You’re welcome.”

Looking nervous as hell, she glanced around the kitchen. “This cabin is pretty stocked for a place you don’t live at full-time.”

“Caretaker. I texted him from the road.”

She nodded, but she still wouldn’t look at me. “Well, I guess it’s late. You must be tired.”

I wasn’t tired. I was amped, and my dick was hard. I wanted my hands on her tits more than I should, and her nervousness was only feeding into my twisted thoughts. “I need to do a perimeter check and pull in some firewood from the shed.”

Her head snapped up and worry creased her brow. “You’re going out there again?” She glanced out the kitchen window. “It’s like, feet deep now.”

I chuckled. “Pretty sure I can handle it, sweetheart.” Pushing the stool back, I stood. “But thanks for the concern. Get some shut-eye, and we’ll reassess in the morning.” I turned toward the door.

“Shade?”

I looked back.

Her gaze dropped, her hands twisted, and her voice went quiet. “Please don’t make me sleep alone.”

Staring at her, I took in every inch of her pretty features, but nothing about her was as it looked.

Her body was a woman’s, and some of the shit she said? Christ, her age was arbitrary at best. They didn’t make nineteen-year-olds like her when I was her age. Then again, I’d never known anyone who was rich before I’d become a bodyguard.

And that fucking kiss?

Goddamn, that was no kiss from a kid.

But she was a kid. Or barely grown up enough to vote, let alone drink. I’d be lying if I said she didn’t look young as hell without makeup, standing in the middle of my kitchen. I’d also be lying if I said she wasn’t beautiful. But I’d be a fucking tool to overlook the circumstances surrounding this whole damn mess. Not to mention, when you stripped her down, she was insecure from a shit upbringing, shittier choices, and every damn thing about her right now was vulnerable as hell.

I was an asshole for thinking about the shit I wanted to do to her body.

Lifting her head, her blue as fuck eyes caught me in the chest before traveling up. “I’m not looking to be a cliché. I know how this looks. The rich client takes a walk on the wild side, as you put it. But I just….” She looked away, took a deep breath and brought her stark eyes back to me. “I know you slept with another client, and I don’t want to be that to you. Just some random fuck of convenience, or whatever. I swear I’m not asking for that. I just—I don’t want to sleep alone.” Dropping her gaze again, she clenched her hands, then spoke in a rush. “I told you about rehab, how we were never alone, and I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I got used to it.”

“You’re not alone.” It was a shit answer, but that was all I had. I couldn’t say no to her. Not to her reason. I wasn’t such an asshole that I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. I spent ten years in the Marines sharing barracks, trenches, murder holes and a whole damn list of shittier places to sleep with my brothers.

I remembered my first night home after being medically retired.

Longest fucking night of my life.

If she’d been in my place that night, you bet your ass I wouldn’t have slept in a different room from her. But that didn’t mean I needed to take advantage of her now.

Her voice went fuck-my-life quiet. “I promise not to start anything. I swear.”

“Listen.” Christ, her sad eyes were killing me. “I’m not—”

“Just one night,” she begged.

Making a decision I shouldn’t, I issued an order. “Come here.”

Flinching slightly, but then walking toward me with the grace of a model, she stood proud in front of me like the perfect little contradiction she was. Not saying a damn word, she looked up and gave me her eyes.

Naturally submissive, she was the type of woman that made my shit tick.

Hard as fuck, salivating with deviant thoughts, I grasped her chin. “What are the rules?”

“Call you Shade. Follow your orders.”

My cock pulsed, and I gripped her harder. “Do not put your hands on me. Do not ask for a goddamn thing. Do not throw yourself at me. Understood?”

For two beats, she didn’t say shit. Then she slayed me. “You’re touching me. Why can’t I touch you?”

“Because I’ll fuck you.”

Her lips parted and she sucked in a quick breath. Then she went determined still. “So?”

“That’s not a promise you want.” I’d gotten her shot at. I wasn’t going to lie to her on top of it. “I’m the last thing you need.” She was small as shit. My cock alone would fucking destroy her.

“I didn’t say—”

“Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know what’ll happen if we get horizontal and let our guards down. You kissed me, woman. You know what’s in your head.”

Innocently, unconsciously, she licked her bottom lip where I’d bit her. “I didn’t mean….” She cleared her throat. “Okay, I meant exactly that,” she admitted. “In my defense, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. It was—I don’t know.” She pulled out of my grasp and became the trust fund brat. “Fine, whatever. I’m not going to beg you to sleep in the same room with me.” She turned.

Before I knew what the hell I was doing, I grasped her by the nape. “Stop.”

A shiver went up her spine, and I felt her skin react under my hand. Then she turned to face me and the trust fund brat became the woman with brass. “Don’t tease me, Shade.”

“Answer one question,” I demanded, issuing an order that was one hundred percent self-serving. “How many other L&A men have you come on to?” I knew the fucking answer. Every single one that’d been her handler.

Her shoulders rose with an inhale before sinking in defeat. “Two, but I was high both times.” She turned to face me. “If I had been like I am now, I wouldn’t have.”

My hand still on her neck, I didn’t let go of her, but I fucking should have. “Is that supposed to impress me?” The thought of her fucking another L&A prick pissed me off, and suddenly I was giving her shit that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the possessive thoughts that’d been running through my head since she’d come barreling down a mountain after me. “You’re more selective when you’re sober. Is that the line you’re gonna feed me? Or let me guess, I’m special.” Same goddamn bullshit I’d heard from Cara, same goddamn bullshit I’d heard from the woman I’d given a ring to before I’d deployed for my first time, and the same goddamn bullshit I’d made sure I’d become immune to a long damn time ago.

Summer blinked.

“That’s what I thought.” Pissed at myself, but taking it out on her, I dropped my hand and reminded myself that when it came right down to it, all women were the same. “Go upstairs.”

“You know that’s not what this is,” she protested.

I knew exactly what this was. The question was, did I care? “Not my first rodeo, sweetheart.” Getting dangerously close to saying fuck it, I wondered how tight her cunt would be.

“I want you,” she blurted. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m curious. I’m turned on. I want you to kiss me again.” She threw her hands up. “What the hell is wrong with that?”

I let loose with a cynical laugh. “Everything. Trust me, you don’t want me.” Rehab or not, she had her whole damn life ahead of her, and the fact she’d come after me a couple times didn’t mean shit except I was her bodyguard and she needed me to protect her.

“You don’t feel this, this”—she waved her hand between us—“connection between us?”

I looked her straight in the eye and did what I told myself two fucking seconds ago I wouldn’t.

I lied.

“No.” I lied to both of us. “My dick hard and wondering what your cunt tastes like doesn’t mean there’s something between us.” Already racking up the asshole points, I went for broke and piled on the lies. “Fucking you wouldn’t be a connection.” Dragging my thumb across her bottom lip, I leaned closer. “It’d be orgasms.” Smelling her desire, I paused a beat. “A lot of fucking orgasms.”