Cornered & Caged

Kenzi succeeded in getting through the rest of the evening without throwing herself at him. It neared midnight.

An hour she adored and despised in equal measure.

She should be tired, but her nerves wouldn’t settle. They jumped every time she heard a noise she hadn’t caused.

Her skin was too sensitive, hyperaware whenever he entered the same room. She’d ordered food from her favorite Mexican restaurant. Had offered to get him something, but he declined.

So Kenzi had eaten a lonely dinner while Tyler checked the house was intruder-free. For the umpteenth time that evening.

The dancing flavors of cumin and cilantro were tasteless to her preoccupied self. She camped out in the living room after she tidied her mess away.

It was a vast area but appeared smaller due to all the memories she’d pinned to the walls. Bookshelves laden with hardback copies of her favorite books displayed her trophies and favorite fan letters.

Some lined the mantle above the electric log fireplace, along with treasures and trinkets her friends and fans had gifted her. Cream couches sank into a rust-coloured patchwork rug she’d bought with her first ever paycheck.

Earlier, the edge had curled up, and she’d tripped over it. She bruised her shin on the coffee table. The radiating agony spread up to her knee.

Making her eyes water. Tyler never appeared to see what the commotion was about as she berated the furniture for its attempted murder.

Later though? She’d gone upstairs to grab her cell phone off the charger beside her bed, only gone for five minutes. Someone had straightened the rug when she came back down.

They’d fixed the furled edge so that it now lay flat. Corners aligned with the precision of a soldier tidying their bunk. Their almost obsessive care was clear in how meticulously they sorted it.

Tyler wasn’t in the room, but nothing could erase her small smile. Or douse the warmth in her chest. She took to watching the windows, hoping she’d catch a glimpse of him checking on her before he slunk away again.

The floor to ceiling glass faced the coast and framed her manicured gardens. The tennis court glimmered under the silver moonlight. And her most treasured piece.

The grand piano poised before the bulletproof glass, polished to a liquid black sheen, anchored the space. The fire roared, wafts of heat washing over her.

But it did little to soften the cold precision of her gilded cage. The air hummed with the sterile quiet of a museum. It was hers, and it was not.

It was inevitable. She’d curled up on the couch, mindless reality TV shows playing to drown out the morose thoughts racing in her head. Tyler appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

He spoke some of the few words he was willing to give her. She’d memorized them all. He stood there, presence filling the room, commanding the blood in her veins to surge faster and faster. Distracting. Pretty.

Not hers.

She deflated at the thought.

“House is secured. I’ll check again once you’re asleep.”

She nodded, forcing a wan smile. His eyes skipped over everything in the room except her. Her stomach twisted, a tick visible in her jaw.

Was she that off-putting? Too loud? Too boring? No, she didn’t think she was. Even if some had said otherwise.

Kenzi formed a response, voice steady for once. “Thank you. If you need anything to eat or drink, take it.”

She always offered, and he always shook his head and said...

“Thanks. I’m good.”

Biting back a groan, she nodded again. Her head would come loose and topple off if he kept this up. Right before her feigned smile faded, she shifted her attention back to the TV.

Ads. Fabulous. Scowling at her phone, it was then.

Lana: How’s it going with Tyler?;-) Have you seen what’s under that suit yet?

She stifled a dry chuckle, warmth dusting her cheekbones. Lana—her best friend, co-conspirator in mischief, and constant source of emotional support. She was dying for Kenzi to give in and take what she wanted.

Only Lana knew about her crush. She trusted the woman with her life and knew it would never leak to the press.

She’d been there long before the world knew Kenzi’s name. Chuckling, bitter and breathy, she tapped out a brief reply. She snorted at Lana’s answer before she tossed the phone aside.

Lana: Just grab him by the tie, use it to lead him straight to your bed... then call me in the morning to tell me EVERYTHING!!!

Kenzi’s thumbs hovered over the screen, her mind running a mile a minute. Heart doing the same thing as her imagination flooded her with every erotic thought she’d had about Tyler.

Typing out a short demurring response, she leashed it. Willing the fresh heat in her belly to fade.

Easy for you to say—you’re not the one fantasizing about a man who probably ironed his morals into crisp creases.

She sighed, tossing her phone aside.

It was useless to hope. Pointless to fret over it.

Still, she wanted him. Her growing attraction took up a lot of real estate in her brain. The rules she’d set, both in writing and in her own private code, told her to leave it alone.

She was his employer. His client.

He took his duty as a bodyguard more seriously than a hangman tying a taut noose. All of them did. Nothing got past them without a background check and three references.

They were to ensure Kenzi remained among the living. Even if that cost them their lives. She did not take that lightly.

She did all she could to make up for the risk. Once before, she had given in when attraction bloomed between her and a guard.

It ended in disaster. A total wreckage that spat sparks when she remembered it. He still liked to tell the tale of their short time together to news outlets.

Her life was one giant fishbowl. Secrecy reigned until she had fully prepared for outside involvement. Tyler would reject her and quit his job on the spot.

Or he’d accept. Convince her he’d keep their secrets locked away in a vault.

But those secrets never stayed buried. Money could buy them too easily.

She’d have to go through all that shit again. The world would lambaste her. Tear him apart, too. Call her a slut.

Claiming she’d die alone. She’d ruin him. He didn’t deserve that.

He shouldn’t have to worry about losing his livelihood because she couldn’t control herself. She could sense him behind her.

Like her entire nervous system had attuned to his, sparking alight whenever he drew close. Her mind filled with maroon smoke each time.

The night outside her window was a sea of black velvet studded with glistening diamonds. Though she couldn’t see them, she knew her guards were out patrolling.

She exhaled heavily, mouth furled uneasily, deciding it was time for bed when Tyler called her name. Her heart scaled her throat, beating like a bloodied fist at the back of her mouth.

She could almost taste its coppery desire. She very much enjoyed the way her name rolled off his rusty tongue.

“Kenzi, James needs me. Won’t be gone long. Still got your pepper spray?”

His voice always dropped to a gritty rasp when addressing her. She suppressed a whimpering breath, a chill tiptoeing down her spine and lighting every nerve in it.

Then Tyler’s question finally got through to her. The tingling instantly gave way to a flare of crimson steam.

She rolled her eyes. Fingers curling into her palms until her nails carved them, using the dull throb to anchor herself.

Her stomach dropped a little at his leaving, even for a little while. She hurried to cover it all as he arched a brow.

“Yes. Fine. I’m going to bed anyway.”There was a snappish tone in her voice. As cold as a glacier calving.

She cringed internally as his eyes filled with an alert confusion. She spun on her bare heel and stalked off before he could question her.

She felt his stare until she climbed the stairs and bolted inside her bedroom.

Go away. Before I do something we’ll both regret, just go away, she chanted to herself instead of yelling it at Tyler.

Face grimacing and as hot as a July sun. She slumped against the door. Nerves rattling and head shaking. She cursed her hormones.

Cursed everything she could think to blame for this mess. She would have to fuck some sense back into herself again.

When someone else was on Kenzi duty. Maybe it would take the edge off this time. Make her realize how stupid she was acting.

He watched her as if he were committing her to memory, and it kept confusing her. Kept reeling her nearer and nearer in.

Deep down, she knew it was just his way. But her body and heart wouldn’t listen. He spoke to no one. Not even his colleagues.

The other guards mentioned him solely to recommend him and point out his overqualification. Military training. Glowing references that would make the head of the CIA jealous.

Stefan was the only one he seemed more comfortable with. He was an enigma made into a man.

Well respected. Innocently doing his job while she slobbered like an untrained dog over him.

Utterly clueless about her secret imaginings. She wanted to stomp her foot, spit flame, and yell that it wasn’t fair, damn it.

Instead, she skittered over to her four-poster bed. Throwing herself down on the plush mattress, she muffled her groan into her pillow.

Resigned to waiting on her skin to cool down. Idiot. She was an idiot to be mad at him for doing his job well.

She hadn’t the right to want more than that. Repeating it in her head did nothing to stifle the pornographic images in her thoughts.

Flesh on flesh. His teeth scraping her hammering pulse. She didn’t even know if he had teeth! Their primal desire all that mattered.

She was going to lose herself observing him, imagining all the ways he could take her apart and put her back together. Desperately trying not to feel what she felt for him.

But it was already too late. He was in her head, in her home, and wouldn’t leave. She wasn’t sure she wanted him out.

No, she wanted him in so deeply she forgot her name and could only scream his.

So deep she would forget what a terrible idea it was. Until reddened skin and biting teeth and bruising hands erased the fear of getting caught.

Maddening—that’s what it was. She rolled onto her back with a huff as flame flared in her abdomen. A door slammed and then locked as Tyler returned to the house.

She fancifully thought she could sense him moving around. A drum beat out of rhythm in her ears as she strained to listen.

Silent and purposeful, diligently fearless as he combed the house for threats.

Would he shoot first or use those pretty leather-bound hands to subdue an intruder?

Wrap his long fingers around some would-be stalker’s neck and throttle the air from him?

Warmth flashed over her skin, nipples pebbling. She pressed her thighs together, wetness already seeping between them.

Her heart kicked up as his footsteps climbed the stairs outside her door. Her pulse fluttering in her neck like a moth trapped in a flesh cage, forgetting how to breathe.

He only came up here when he thought she was asleep. He tried to give her as much privacy as he could, which only endeared her to him more.

She’d have paid millions for him to say something to kill her crush, an ick or insult

—anything.

But the sound only crept nearer.

The atmosphere shifted as if it too held its breath. She sat bolt upright as his steps approached her door.

No, no, no. What was he doing? This isn’t on the script.

This was new. This wasn’t what she’d planned for.

She wasn’t entirely sure what to do when he knocked on her door. The noise like a sledgehammer in the quiet room. Hide under the bed?

Drop to the floor and pretend she were dead?

Her emotions bloomed out of control. Panic, like an invasive vine, had taken root in her lungs and was strangling her from the inside. Her hands shook, bugged eyes trying to scorch holes in the door.

She forced herself to blink, rapid flickers of her lashes, in the hope she had imagined it. Kenzi bit her lip to trap a squeal as he knocked again. Harder this time.

The air stalled in her throat; no oxygen seemed to exist in the room. As if someone had vacuumed it right out.

“What is it?” She swallowed, mouth dry as ash when he didn’t reply. She groaned under breath before sealing her fate. “Come in then.”

With a weighted pause, the floorboards outside her door creaked as he shifted on his feet. Her chest constricted. The door slowly slid open, and he darkened her doorway.

She’d seen this in her mind so many times.

He wore much less clothing in her head though. Scrambling to her feet, Kenzi eyed him warily as he came inside. He left the door open; perhaps for a quick escape, perhaps for her comfort.

Something wasn’t right. His usual frosted aloofness was gone, and he almost looked nervous. She liked it.

It put him on similar ground to her and settled her enough that she could form a coherent response.

“Is everything okay? You look worried,” She said, arching a brow.

Waiting him out as he seemed to struggle for words behind the mask. The soft glow of the full moon spilling its pale ribbons through her blinds cast him in a stunning tableau of shadow and silvered light.

Even with the mask. No man had the right to be that gorgeous.

She snatched hold of her thoughts and tried to cage her rabbiting heart. He averted his gaze, hand lifting to scratch his neck.

Silent for so long, she had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him to reply. She hated how unhinged he made her.

Never had an ex made her act this way. Despite what the media claimed. It picked at her pride that he always remained unbothered, while she slowly went mad.

But this wasn’t his usual routine. Her skin buzzed slightly as if a charged current ran underneath the surface.

Tyler’s gaze latched onto hers; she swore she felt a shock. He finally gave voice to whatever it was he’d been thinking about.

And her threadbare hope that he wanted to ravish her died a bloody, gasping death.

“You’re upset. Any complaints? Requests?”

Sighing, she looked away, breaking the intense eye contact he’d reeled her in with.

“I’m not upset,” she said. Crossing her arms around her middle, nails cutting into her elbows. “You’re fine. Just… go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The bitter note in her tone said everything she wanted to keep locked inside her. Somehow, she kept her chin up even as his brows rose.

She wanted to take a step back, but held her line. She thanked her lucky stars for the darkness. He might not notice.

She glanced at him again. Found him frowning, but there was a spark of something she didn’t recognize in his lovely eyes.

Mirage — just another fantasy.

Then, he had to open his mouth again.

“You sound upset.” He paused, swallowing audibly. His jaw under the mask flexed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Why couldn’t he just let it go? Let her die of shame in peace?

“I’m not upset!” She said, cursing inwardly; her high-pitched voice only made his eyes darken more. Those irises shimmered with black humor at her expense.

Backtracking, blaming him, she went on, “I wasn’t upset until you decided I was!” She had the sudden urge to bolt. Decided not to question it. “You know what? I think I’ll sleep upstairs tonight.”

She grabbed her lilac silk robe from the edge of her bed and pulled it on, feeling too exposed in her shorts and tank top. Kenzi pushed past his towering body and left the room. Practically running for the stairs. Her bare feet slapping off the floor.

The racket smothered her shrieking brain. But Tyler followed. Her heart didn’t know whether to soar or sink. It just shuddered as she climbed the staircase.

The upstairs suite was mainly for guests, but she slept there when the weather was crazy. Tonight, it was she who was out of control. To avoid another breakdown, she needed seclusion to conquer her foolishness and face him steadily again.

Kenzi got halfway down the dark hallway before a firm hand wrapped around her upper arm and hauled her to a stop. Cinnamon and cedarwood clashed with her vanilla body lotion. Static sparkled where leather met silk.

Whirling, long platinum hair flying around her heart-shaped freckled face, she glared at him. Her green eyes flashed venomously. Ready to slap him if that’s what it took to shake him off.

She immediately came to a standstill at what she saw. Her entire body tensed, a girlish appreciative noise catching in her throat as her eyes hungrily traced his mask-less face.

His lapis eyes dilated, now glinted in the frail light filtering through the window at the end of the hall. Of course, he appeared as if a master sculptor had carved him from marble.

Honing his cheekbones and jaw into a diamond’s edge. His full, plush lips were a straight line, she wanted to map them with her own, but that wasn’t the best part.

His raven hair had tousled as he pursued her. Silken strands refusing to co-operate as he raked a gloved hand through them. A tiny bit of tension leached from her at the sight of his usual restrained appearance coming undone. Her eyes snagged on that goddamn jaw.

She hadn’t pictured him with a neat beard, but it suited him. Dark as his hair, coarse, and framing his mouth in the best way. She wondered if it would scrape her thighs raw.

The abrupt impulse to scratch her nails through it made her take a step closer. Hand rising, reaching without her permission.

She caught herself and snatched it away, balling her hands into fists. He had no such hesitation.

He crowded her, stepping so close there were two Tylers in her wide eyes.

It’s not what you think. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Don’t move.

His gaze raked over her. The blood in her veins paused as he lowered his head and breathed deeply, shooting forward again when he groaned. The sound speared through her.

It sounded more pain than pleasure. She’d showered before dinner. She knew she didn’t smell bad, but she shifted on her feet, wishing she could sniff herself to double-check. He swore, exhaling harshly.

She went rigid. What was his problem?

Did he enjoy watching her unravel? She planted her feet, nostrils flaring slightly, daggered words on the tip of her tongue. Fuck him.

Fuck this current singing between them that turned her bones to kindling.

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding, familiar adrenaline pumping too fast. Her temper sparked at his ongoing silence, always reliable.

Half a spark away from torching the world just to escape his question. She tried to tug her arm out of his grip, yanking it hard.

He tightened his hold. She gave in and demanded.

“What do you want? This isn’t part of your job description, Tyler.”

Nothing. No reaction. As immovable, impenetrable as a King’s fortress and twice as difficult to defend against. He wasn’t afraid of her.

She dearly wished he were. The humiliation of this in the morning would—their eyes met, something fiery, something that smoldered, caught in his azure depths.

She’d seen that look before. It had been a weaker form back then. A single candle in an abyss.

This was a wildfire untamed. Carefully contained… for now. Her skin cried out for his touch wherever his breath warmed it. She relaxed an inch.

“Have I offended you?” A muscle twitched at the corner of his eye, thick black lashes shadowing his cheekbones. “I take this seriously, Kenzi. Let. Me. Fix. It.”

Oh, fuck her gently. Tomorrow, she was issuing a PR statement to inform the world that only he could call her by her name.

The sound was so rich and rough. It felt like a caress.

It shivered along her nerves, slithering down her torso and resting between her thighs where it ached. The hair on her nape lifted.

With every inch of her on high alert, begging for the tension to break. She registered his question too late.

“There’s nothing to fix. I want to sleep, and you’re keeping me from it.”

He sighed, with a sharp shake of his head. His mouth curled into a slight smirk so sensual, she wanted to whimper.

Her dirty dreams played in her mind with vivid clarity. His large, leather-covered hand manacled her wrist.

“Try again, Kenzi.” His thumb brushed her pulse point—a fleeting, searing, deliberate graze as it flickered too wildly. “The truth this time.”

His eyes weren’t only azure anymore. They were a squall-lashed sea. And she was drowning, caught in the undertow.

She let out a laugh like shattered glass. Her breath hitched, a fractured sound. Synapses fried by his proximity.

His grip on her wrist.

Control, control, control. You’re the boss. Get a hold of yourself, woman!

She steeled her spine. Was he moving closer? Or had her imagination gone feral again?

She didn’t care. Tired of standing on uncertain ground.

Tired of his ability to render her into a teenager again. Mockery filled her voice, but desperation singed its edges.

“ Try again?

Funny. You were the one who told me to ‘try the opposite,’ Mr…” she trailed off, scoffing. Rancour roiled beneath every word. “Christ, I don’t even know your last name.”

She breathed as though she’d run a marathon, sweat dappling her temples and turning her hands clammy. Silence rang like a discordant violin, stretching out until it shivered.

Then everything changed. It was funny how quickly life flipped her precisely crafted script.

“Callahan.”

She jerked, vision tunnelling, wholly incapable of tearing her eyes off him as the corner of his mouth curled.

His voice softened on those three syllables, as if the name were a secret he’d buried beneath his stoic facade years ago.

As if he’d breathed it into her ribs the day they met and she’d only just remembered.

“What?”

He repeated himself. Slow, intentional. Etching it into her marrow.

“Tyler Callahan.” His smile slanted, gaze pinned to hers. “Now try again.”