Triple-Duty Bodyguards: Chapter 23

I wake up slowly, in a warm cosy nest. It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am.

I’m in a sexy bodyguard sandwich. Kenta is steadfastly cuddling me from the front, and Glen is curled up at my back, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. For a moment, I just lie there, enjoying the feeling of two men draped over me.

Eventually, though, the ache in my bladder is too sharp to ignore. I carefully slide out from under the heavy limbs, rubbing my thighs together as I register the soreness between my legs. I think I need to buy some lube. It’s been so long since I had regular sex; my poor vagina is woefully unprepared.

I go to the bathroom and slip into a pair of pyjamas, then head into the main suite. Matt is sitting at the kitchen counter, taking apart a pistol. I pad across the lounge to the kitchenette, pulling a mug out of one of the cupboards. “Morning.”

He grunts, fiddling with the mechanism. I watch him carefully. I’ve never seen any of the guys with weapons before. It feels surreal, like we’ve dropped onto a movie set.

“It’s so weird to see you holding a gun.”

He doesn’t raise his gaze. “Does it scare you?”

“No. It would be bad for your business if you shot your client. You want a coffee?”

He nods, a quick jerk of his chin, and I grab a couple of complimentary coffee pods from a big glass bowl, setting the coffee maker going. As it churns and steams, I watch Matt methodically checking all of the gun parts. Behind him, there’s a case full of different firearms; mostly smaller pistols, but some much bigger ones, as well.

“Where did you even get all of those?”

“Our LA office.”

“You have multiple locations?”

“Hollywood is a very common destination for our celebrity assets, so we keep a base here.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a slim aerosol tube. “Picked you up some pepper spray. Wish I could offer you something better, but half the men in Hollywood would be dead tomorrow if you were allowed to carry.”

“Hey, you’re getting to know me.” I weigh the bottle in my hand. I’ve never seen pepper spray before. “This is just point-and-click, right?”

He nods. “Aim for the eyes.”

“I always do.” That finally makes his mouth twist into a grim smile. The coffee machine gurgles to a stop, and I pass him his mug. “Do you prefer working in England or America?”

“Usually America. The weapons make the jobs more interesting. But I’d prefer this job be as boring as possible.”

I watch in silence as he takes apart another pistol, checks inside it, and reassembles it. This might be the first civilised conversation we’ve had since our chat by the pool last week. Now that we’re not snapping at each other, I can examine him more closely. He doesn’t look good. His skin is pale underneath his tan, and there are dark circles under his eyes. As he sets the gun aside and reaches for another one, I notice that his hand is shaking.

“Matt, are you okay?”

He flinches like I’ve swung at him, then smiles bitterly. “Been talking to Kenta, have you?”

“No. Well, yes, obviously, but that’s not why I’m asking. You look half-dead.”

“Jet lag,” he grunts, “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling well, I’m sure I can find someone to take your place—”

He stands suddenly, slamming the gun on the table. “I’m fine,” he growls, then turns on his heel and heads back into the guys’ room. I stand there, staring blankly at his untouched coffee steaming on the countertop.

Well, that was rude.

There’s a footstep behind me, and I feel my whole body relax as warm arms band around my waist. Kenta’s soft, spicy scent floods my senses as he nabs Matt’s coffee.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses my neck. “How are you feeling?”

“Is Matt getting sick?” I ask bluntly.

He pauses for way too long. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now,” he says diplomatically.

I turn to look at him. He looks divine, his long hair tied back in a low ponytail, his sharp jaw shaded with stubble. I fight the urge to run my fingers along it. “He looks like he’s about to collapse.”

Kenta hums, noncommittal. “Are you ready for the press event tonight?”

I sigh and nod. “Any sign of X?”

“Not a peep. We’ve had people trawling through your socials, and nothing has popped up that matches his usual pattern of speech.” He squeezes my shoulder. “It could mean that he’s losing interest.”

“Or it could mean he’s travelling here,” I point out. “Maybe he’s on a plane right now.”

“Hey.” Kenta touches under my chin. “You pay us to worry for you. There’s no point in you doing it as well.” He takes a swig of coffee, and my eyes catch on the glossy red smudge on his neck.

I reach up to thumb it off. “You’ve still got my lipstick on you.”

He rolls his neck to give me better access, his lips brushing the top of my head. For a second, my insides clutch. A memory from last night flashes in front of my eyes: me, riding him hard while he buries his face in my cleavage, sucking hungrily at my tits. I feel heat shimmering over my skin.

I hesitate for a moment, then cup his jaw and kiss him. He draws me into his firm body, kissing me back hard and slow. He tastes like coffee and mint, and as his hand slides down the curve of my back, I feel myself slowly melting against his chest.

“Are you sure this isn’t breaking a company policy?” I whisper against his mouth. I don’t know why, but necking with my bodyguard the morning after just feels wrong. In a delicious, illicit way. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble.”

He laughs. “Our boss met her wife on a close protection job. I think she realised pretty quick that when two people are attracted to each other, it can be more distracting to repress it.” He slips a hand up the back of my shirt, and I shiver as his fingertips tickle up my spine. “I can sleep with you off-shift, and focus on my work on-shift just fine.”

The hotel phone rings, and I jump as Glen practically falls out of the bedroom, yanking on a pair of boxers. He brushes past us both, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek, then stumbles to the door and out into the corridor.

“Emergency?” I ask, watching his retreating back.

“Breakfast,” Kenta laughs. “He’s a bottomless pit.” He dips down and touches his mouth to my ear. “I think you wore him out.”

“I think I should’ve worn you out, if anything. I edged you for like, half an hour.” I look up at him through my lashes. “Very rude. Sorry about that.”

He chuckles. “Do it whenever you like, sweetheart. I enjoyed it plenty.”

Glen bursts back into the room, pushing a gold room service trolley loaded with jugs and cutlery and big metal cloches. The guys lift up the covers, revealing plates upon plates of breakfast food. Hash browns. Pastries. Scrambled eggs. Pancakes. There’s a plate of french toast sticks with chocolate dipping sauce, and a whole jug filled with some kind of berry smoothie.

And I can barely eat any of it.

Sighing, I ladle some fruit salad into a little bowl and pour myself a glass of the smoothie. A couple of days. Just a couple of days, and when the premiere is done, I’ll stuff my face.

The guys fill their plates, and I slump between them on the sofa, picking at my fruit. “I was wondering. How did you guys get started, with this foursome stuff?”

Kenta pours a cup of juice. “It was back when we were serving, and we were all pitched in the same tent. Glen met a girl he liked in a local bar, but she lived with her dad, who was openly against our presence. Matt and I both said, as long as she was fine with it, we didn’t mind them just coming back to the tent.”

“You dog,” I nudge Glen. His cheeks redden.

Kenta laughs. “Then it just became a habit. If one of us wanted to bring a girl back, we would, and the other two would ignore it. It was—” He frowns at his bacon. “Honestly, at that point, it was less about sex, and more about comfort. Just having someone to hold, for a bit, when you spent all day thinking about death.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” I bite into a grape. “I can imagine.”

He nods. “One night, a girl Matt brought back asked if we wanted to join. She was pretty, we were lonely. We tried it, and it was so mind blowing that we kept doing it.” He frowns down at my bowl. “Sweetheart, is that all you’re having? We got lots of vegan stuff. The oatmeal, and the french toast, and I think the pancakes are good.”

“You haven’t seen my dress for tonight. It’s essentially a gastric band. I’m on liquids for the rest of the day.” He looks alarmed. “Don’t worry, I get to eat like a normal person as soon as the premiere is over.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “What if you get dizzy, or something?”

I shrug. “I eat some glucose tabs, drink some water, and suck it up.”

“I don’t like that,” Glen mutters behind me.

I snort. “Yeah, well, neither do I. But I’d rather spend an evening feeling a bit hungry than have to deal with pregnancy rumours. And trust me, so would you.” I spear a piece of melon. “Every time that happens, I get like, three times as much attention from the paps. I’m making your job much easier.”

Kenta still doesn’t look satisfied. Glen reaches down and nabs a strawberry from my bowl, rolling it generously in the french toast dipping chocolate, then holding it to my lips. “Here. It’s fruit.”

I roll my eyes and bite into the strawberry, humming as the sweet juice bursts on my tongue, mixing with the rich, heavy chocolate. When I’m done, I suck a smudge of chocolate right off Glen’s thumb, scraping my teeth lightly across the pad. His grey eyes flare and darken, and I feel Kenta setting his own plate aside, reaching up to pull my hair back from my neck. My eyes fall closed as his hot lips touch the side of my throat. Glen pulls his thumb from my mouth, trailing his hand down to cup my cheek.

I startle as a door suddenly slams, looking up to see Matt stride into the room. His gaze goes straight to us, and colour touches his cheeks. “Seriously?” He barks. “Again?”

I twinkle my fingers at him. “You know, if you stop being such a sad little bitch, you can join in,” I inform him, with my characteristic warmth and charm.

His disgusted look speaks volumes. He storms back into the guys’ bedroom.

“Alright, then,” I mutter.

Glen chuckles next to me. “He’s jealous.”

Somehow I doubt that. “Whatever.” I stretch, then check my watch. “I’ve got twenty minutes before I need to hit the gym. Do you reckon all three of us can get off before I need to leave?”