“At your house, you said I give you one night and you’d come home. Well, I did my part and now it’s your turn to—”
“Excuse me?” she interrupted. “You most certainly didn’t do your part. I asked for one night. I got a five-minute fuck and then you rushed off without even saying goodbye.”
“Damn it, Ellie. Like you said, you got what you wanted, right?”
Pure ice pumped through her bloodstream. “Seeing your back as you stumbled out the door was not what I wanted. Which means the deal’s off, Luke. Not only is it off, but it won’t be on the table again, I can guarantee that.”
She wasn’t sure if his face was red with frustration or anger, but she didn’t care. Lifting her chin, she shuffled past him, all the while feeling his gaze burning into her back.
“I need to get on stage,” she announced without turning around. She didn’t dare to look at him, didn’t want to see his expression or hear his arguments.
For the first time in weeks, she’d shown Luke Russell exactly who was boss.
I’ve wanted you for fifteen years.
The words ran through Luke’s head as he strode toward a table near the stage and sank down. Damn, he needed to sit, his body still winded from Ellie’s confession. He wasn’t a stranger to surprises—life as a bodyguard was full of them—but he couldn’t remember ever being this stunned.
Fifteen years? She’d wanted him for that long? He’d always suspected she had a crush on him when she was a kid, but once she hit her teens, he figured she’d gotten over it. When she’d fallen in love with Whelan, it had been as much as confirmed. And now she decided to tell him she’d wanted him all along?
Like you didn’t know.
After days of ignoring the nagging little voice in his head, he finally listened to it. He knew he affected her, had known it since the night he’d kissed her out in the alley, when her warm needy response had been evident. Last night, too, she’d responded. He remembered cupping her dampness, hearing her breathy moans, the feel of her hand on his erection, the way her wet heat had clamped against him. Her cries of pleasure as she came.
He’d run out of there thinking he’d hurt her, used her, but the memory of her encouraging gaze and soft pleas told a different story.
She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.
Luke fought back a wave of desperation as the lights dimmed and the curtains lifted. Damn it. He didn’t like being left hanging. Didn’t like having to sit here and think about Ellie’s bombshell. Analyze what it meant and why it made him feel so…happy.
And he certainly didn’t like the way she’d made their agreement null and void based on a stupid technicality. So he hadn’t stayed the night. She’d still gotten what she’d wanted. Still taken a sledgehammer to all the control he’d built over the years and utterly demolished it. He wondered how he’d ever explain this to Josh. I had sex with your little sister but she still won’t come home.
Fortunately he was pretty sure Josh didn’t own a gun.
Shaking his head, he forced everything out of his mind and focused his gaze on the stage. The dancers were doing a routine that reminded him of A Chorus Line. High kicks, sexy spins and a lot of ass wiggling.
“Look at the ass on that one.”
The man at the neighboring table turned to Luke with a massive leer on his pudgy face. Luke’s nostrils flared as he followed the man’s extended finger and saw one of the dancers shake her mesh-covered bottom. “You know,” he couldn’t help but snap, “she has a name. A face too.”
The man cocked his head and grinned in Luke’s direction. “With a body like that, who gives a damn about her face?”
He breathed deeply, willing his anger to dissolve. A barrage of comebacks bit at his tongue but he finally decided the balding, middle-aged creep wasn’t worth it. He turned away, ignoring the man next to him and trying to ignore how sexy Ellie looked up on that stage. When a flash of movement from the doorway caught his attention, he shifted his gaze completely.
Was that…? Why yes it was. The Latin heartthrob Ellie had gone out with a couple days ago walked through the door, followed by a shorter, light-skinned man. Luke’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead as the two men walked, hand-in-hand, toward a booth across the room and sat down. Disbelief creased his features.
The little witch.
He choked back a laugh as the memory of Ellie dancing with her date flashed across his brain. Had he been too consumed with jealousy to pick up on the guy’s more than obvious sexual orientation, or was he just an idiot? Or maybe Ellie Dawson simply knew him too well.
He shook his head, unable to fight the grin that swept over his face. He had to hand it to her, she was good. She’d played him like a fiddle. That date had been nothing but a farce and he’d fallen for it.
And yet instead of being angry with her, he was left feeling impressed by her sneakiness and desperately relieved that the other man had never been a threat to him.
It was the latter emotion that troubled the hell out of him.