Page 12 of Wrecked (McIntyre Security Bodyguard #16)

Friday evening, I’m alone at the penthouse.

Shane texts to tell me he and Beth are going to stay over in his office apartment tonight.

Great. This means I’ll be home alone all evening mooning over the new kid.

I haven’t seen Sam in ages, but I can’t stop thinking about him.

That kiss. Making him come in his shorts.

I can’t get those memories out of my head.

On impulse, I text him.

Me: What are you doing?

I get no response.

Me: What are you up to tonight?

Again, no response.

Like an idiot, I go down to his apartment and knock. There’s no answer. I knock again. Still no answer.

Then I do a really harebrained thing and go down to the parking garage to see if his truck is here. It isn’t.

I text him again.

Me: Answer me, damn it.

Sam: I’m drinking blue balls.

Blue balls? Shit! He’s at Sapphires. Guys will be all over him like sprinkles on a cupcake.

I hop in the Escalade and head to Sapphires.

I try once more to text him.

Me: Don’t do anything stupid.

Sam: Go away.

Me: I’m coming.

Sam: Don’t bother. This really jacked teddy bear is plying me with copious amounts of alcohol.

Me: Sam please don’t.

Sam: NOW you give a fuck? Spare me. I’m done wasting my time with you.

I stop texting and start driving because he’s probably minutes away from disappearing into the bathroom with some random guy who is probably trying to get Sam drunk.

I park a block from the entrance to Sapphires and hustle it down the sidewalk to the front door.

The line has cleared out already, thank God, so I’m able to walk right in.

I head straight for the bar, expecting to see Sam sitting there, but he’s not.

There’s not a single redhead seated at the counter.

Damn it! I swear to God, if I’m too late—

And then I spot him on the dance floor. It’s not hard to find him. His red hair gives him away. It looks copper underneath the flashing blue neon lights. A bearded, brawny guy is standing behind him, grinding against his ass.

I stalk right over and insert myself between them. The look on Sam’s face is priceless. At first, he’s surprised to see me, and then he smiles. That lasts for about ten seconds. That’s when his smile morphs into a frown.

“Who’s the daddy?” the big guy asks Sam.

Sam scowls at me. “What are you doing here, Cooper? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Yeah, buddy,” the big brute says as he clutches Sam’s hips and pulls him close. “Can’t you see we’re busy? Don’t butt in.”

I grab one of the brute’s hands and, as I twist it backward, his face contorts into a mask of pain.

Instantly, he releases Sam and cradles his wrist to his barrel chest. “Fuck! You don’t have to be such a dick.”

Sam glares at me, clearly annoyed. “That was uncalled for.”

I block everything out—the music, the crowd, the whining brute—and focus on Sam, who instantly stills. I nod toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

His eyes narrow on me. “Where to?”

“My place.”

His eyes widen. “The penthouse?”

“Yes. I have the place to myself tonight. I want you to come home with me.”

“Why?” he challenges. “Why all of a sudden are you talking to me? It’s been ages.”

I figure honesty is the best policy here. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you, Sam. I want you.”

“Hey!” The brute tries, and fails, to push his way between us. “I found him first!”

“No, you really didn’t.” I reach for Sam’s hand, and when he doesn’t protest, I pull him to me and right there, on a crowded dance floor, I throw caution to the wind and kiss him.

After we share a hungry kiss, he pulls back, looking startled. “Are you going to ditch me again?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No way in hell.”

I guess that’s good enough for him. “Okay, let’s go.” Sam links our fingers and pulls me toward the exit.

Once we’re outside, where it’s not so loud, I back Sam against a wall. With one hand, I grip his waistband, and with the other, I grip his jaw. “I screwed up before, and I’m sorry.” I lean in to kiss him, more gently this time. He tastes like coconut and rum. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

“Just two.” He chuckles. “They’re called Blue Balls. Kind of fitting, huh? Since you were the one who bailed on me.”

I release his jaw and slip my hand to the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Sam.” I kiss him again. “No more blue balls, I promise. Please come home with me. I want you in my bed.”

Sam groans. “I’m probably going to regret this, but okay.”

* * *

I follow Sam back to the apartment building. We park in the garage and take the private elevator up to the penthouse together. The elevator opens into the foyer.

“Wow.” Sam whistles. “Nice digs.”

The floor is a checkerboard made up of black and white tiles. In the center of the room is a large mahogany table holding a cut-glass vase filled with long-stemmed fresh-cut flowers. Hanging high over the table is a vintage crystal chandelier.

I shrug. “I can’t complain.”

Sam follows me to a door that opens up into the actual penthouse.

The view opens up into a huge space that contains a living room with a fireplace to the left, then a bar, a massive dining table that seats a small army, and finally my pride and joy—a custom-designed kitchen.

The walls making up the entire exterior of this open space are glass, providing a million-dollar panoramic view of the Chicago skyline.

Make that several million. Right now, well after dark, the city is lit up.

Sam walks into the space and makes a beeline for the bar. “This is—wow.”

“Shane and his brothers salvaged the bar when it was shutting down. It was one of their favorite places to hang out, and they couldn’t bear to see it demolished. So they bought the bar and the fixtures and rebuilt it here.”

He walks the length of the dining table. “You guys must have a lot of friends over.”

“Shane has a big family and a lot of friends. We fill this table, and then some, pretty often.”

Lastly, he tours the kitchen. “This must be your domain.”

“Why do you say that?” He’s right, of course. The kitchen is my territory.

“You made me dinner and cookies. Obviously, you like to cook.”

“Well, somebody has to. Beth and Shane couldn’t boil water if their lives depended on it. Would you like something to drink?”

“Water would be great. I think I’ve had enough alcohol for tonight.”

I open the fridge and pull out two bottles of chilled spring water, handing him one and keeping one for myself. I watch as he uncaps his and takes a long swig.

“You really only had two drinks tonight?” I ask, wanting to be sure.

Sam nods. “Why? Are you worried I might be drunk?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry. It was just the two. I’m perfectly sober.”

“Come on,” I say as I leave the kitchen. We’re right back where we started, at the entryway. “Shane and Beth’s rooms are that way.” I point to the hallway on our left. “My suite is this way.” I gesture to the right.

Sam follows me down the hallway. We pass the laundry room and a couple other doors, and then we reach my room. I open the door and motion for Sam to enter.

His gaze sweeps my room. “This place is like four times the size of my bedroom.”

He eyes the king size bed, the fireplace, and the private bathroom. There’s a media center in the corner, with a TV and a sofa.

“I didn’t bring anything with me,” Sam says. “Except condoms. I always carry condoms.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got anything you might want.” I gesture to the bathroom.

He nods. “The last time we did this, when I got out of the shower you were gone.”

“I know. And I regret that. I really do. It won’t happen again.”

He laughs. “I know it won’t because we’re at your house. Unless you’re going to run out on me here.”

Guilt settles on me like a heavy blanket. “No, Sam. I’m not going anywhere.”

I step close to him, cup his face, and kiss him. His lips tremble beneath mine, stirring up all kinds of feelings in me. We’ve kissed before, but this feels different. More intimate because we’re about to tread on new territory.

I finally notice what’s printed on his T-shirt— YES, DADDY . I raise an eyebrow at him, and he simply shrugs. His shirt is the first thing to go. I pull it out from his waistband and toss it aside.

His bare chest is a divine work of art, lean and lightly sculpted by muscles. His skin is paler than mine. Freckles dot his chest. His abs show faint outlines of a six pack. I lay my palm on the center of his chest. His skin is warm and smooth.

My gaze fixes on his dusky pink nipples, which are pierced with gold hoops. Fuck me. My dick throbs.

Unable to resist, I lean in and gently flick one of the hoops with the tip of my tongue. Sam arches his back and clutches my arms as he cries out.

I freeze instantly. “Did I hurt you?” I’ve never been with a guy who had pierced nipples.

“God, no. That felt incredible.”

I reach out and gently brush my thumb over one of his nipples. He groans again and swallows hard. He’s so damn responsive. I’ve hardly touched him, and he’s already aroused. I glance down to see the outline of his growing erection against the denim of his jeans.

Of course, I’m just as hard. My dick is throbbing and uncomfortably trapped in my own clothing. But right now, I’m more focused on his body. “I want to see every inch of you.”

I run my hands down his torso, to his lean waist. My heart pounds in anticipation of seeing him naked. I grasp the waistband of his jeans and tug him closer.

He takes a step toward me, his eyes lit with arousal.

Slowly, I lower his zipper and shove his jeans and underwear past his hips and let the material fall to the floor. I finally get a look at his dick. “You’re not circumcised.”

He shakes his head. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. I’m just surprised.”

I wrap my fingers around him and feel the heat of him throbbing in my grasp. I stroke him once, twice, and watch as his foreskin slides back revealing the broad head of his cock. I catch a drop of pre-cum on my thumb and bring it to my mouth to suck.

Sam groans. “Fuck.” He quickly removes his sneakers and kicks off his jeans and underwear. And then he stands before me, bare ass naked, like a gorgeous tribute.

My heart is pounding because I’m going to finally have this beautiful man. I’m going to touch him and stroke him and taste him. I’m going to make him beg for mercy. I’m going to make sure he yells my name when he comes.

Sam starts unbuttoning my shirt and lets the material hang open. The way he stares at my chest is better than foreplay. His fingers get to work unbuckling my belt, then unfastening my trousers. As soon as he frees my erection, he drops to his knees and draws me into his mouth.

“God!” I groan. His mouth is a gift. He takes me in deep until I’m hitting the back of his throat.

I can’t help grasping his head and holding him where I want him.

As he strokes me with his tongue and lips, he cups my sac, gently squeezing and tugging.

His touch feels so good my legs start shaking as the pleasure builds quickly.

Too quickly. “Sam.” I haul him up by his arms. “This will be over before it starts if you keep doing that.”