A Bodyguard For The Princess (A Bad Boy Romance) (31 page)

“I never meant to,” Zach said. “Break your heart, I mean.”

“So why did you?” I asked. Zach sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. I'd completely forgotten about my laptop, and it had slid to the side off of my lap. It stopped when the top corner of it hit the cabin wall. “Zach.”

“I was scared,” he said, so quietly I barely heard him. “About how I felt about you. I know you dealt fine with your parents getting divorced, but I didn't. I watched them fight, and I got carted back and forth between the two of them for ten years. And during that time, I watched my dad go through girl after girl after girl, and all of them were terrible for him. I watched his heart get broken more times than I could count. I think if he hadn't had me, he would have given up completely. So do you understand why I was scared that the same thing would happen to me? To us?” Tears glistened in his eyes, making the blue shine bright.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked.

Zach shrugged and rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. “Because it's not something that's easy for me to talk about. And now, I guess it's too late. Do you know how badly I wanted to kiss you this morning?”

I had an idea. My lips tingled at the memory. I had wanted it just as badly. “Why didn't you?”

Zach stood, and the top bunk hid his face from my view until he sat down next to me, his hands wrapping around the edge of the mattress. His jaw looked as tight as my stomach felt. He darted forward and smashed his lips against mine. Both his hands were on my knees, effectively pinning me in place. I responded instantly, my mind going completely blank. I was unable to think or focus on anything other than Zach's lips on mine.

I grabbed his face, feeling the firm line of his jaw against my palm. A tiny whimper worked its way into my throat and stuck there. Zach brushed his tongue over my lip, slow and gentle, and I responded in kind, touching the tip of my own to it. He'd always been such a good kisser. I didn't know how many girls he had kissed in his life, but if there was one thing I was grateful to them for, it was his skill and his tenderness, even if part of me was jealous that he had known so much when I had known so little.

I leaned back against the wall, pulling him with me. His hands were on my hips, pulling my body down until I was flat on the bed, the blankets rucked up under me and the pillows crooked, and stretched out beneath him. He was still aware enough of his surroundings not to crush my laptop as he lowered himself, half of his weight on me. He was strong and warm and comforting, all the things I had missed about having him close to me.

I let my hands rest on his shoulders, twisting my fingers into the stiff, new fabric of his shirt. The skin beneath was hot. Zach sucked gently on my lower lip and gave it a tiny nibble with his teeth before he lifted his head to gaze down at me, affection shining where tears had just been gathering. He brushed my hair away from my face.

“I've wanted to do that every day since I left,” he said softly. My heart skipped a beat. He sighed softly and nudged my nose with his. “I'm sorry I'm an asshole.”

“At least you know you're an asshole,” I replied. He chuckled.

With a bit of wrangling, we got my computer out of harm's way and on the floor, half under the bed where it would be safe. Zach laid on his side next to me, one arm draped over my waist, and pillowed his head on my shoulder, just like he had when we were together. I was shorter, but he had always been a bit of a little spoon. I'd never minded. He always had a strong arm around my waist, whether I was cuddling him or not, and that was enough for me to feel safe and loved. Those feelings returned now.

I sank into his partial embrace, lifting one hand to slip my fingers into his hair and gently scratch his head. He hated naps, but his breathing evened out. My eyes were heavy, too. Sleeping on a ship wasn't as jarring as I thought it would be, but it still wasn't in a proper bed on solid ground. If I closed my eyes and focused hard enough, I could feel the gentle swaying. Between it and Zach's slow breathing against my neck, it was easy for me to drift off.

Zach

When I woke up, I thought I might still be dreaming. To be fair, I'd had a similar dream often enough in the two years since Annie and I had broken up. Kissing, cuddling, holding hands. All of it. And we'd done all of it in the last twelve hours. And I was still holding her. And she was still asleep.

I blinked my eyes open to look at her. It was still light outside, but the position of the sun had changed, and the shadows in the room were different. Our cabin was dim but not dark, like the back room of a house in the late afternoon. Lots of light or not, Annie looked beautiful, her face peaceful in sleep. Her hand was still in my hair, long fingers loosely tangled. I loved her like this, completely relaxed and comfortable, pressed up against me. Her body had the deep warmth of sleep around it, and her neck smelled of sweet sweat.

I nuzzled closer and squeezed my arm between us to check the time. I had to squint. I'd been asleep for a good hour, and Annie was still. I wondered that neither of our parents had knocked on the door to find out what we were up to, although it hadn't really been so long. It was likely they were still at the pool, which was fine by me.

Finally telling Annie the real reason behind me leaving her had lifted a weight off my chest. She might have goaded me into it, but the words had been bubbling up stronger and stronger since that first dinner. I was glad for the little spat we had. At least everything was out in the open now. For the most part. I didn't know what to do about our parents, and I doubted Annie did either. I did know, without having to ask, that it was a subject neither of us wanted to approach. She had been right when she said that I'd never seen Dad happier than he was with Donna, and I trusted that she told the truth about her mom. For all accounts and purposes, our parents were perfect for each other, which put Annie and me in a very awkward position.

On the other hand, we weren't doing anything wrong. Our parents may have been dating, but none of us were related in any sense of the word. Even if they got married—and a part of me couldn't help but hope that was a huge if—there still wouldn't be anything legal keeping Annie and I from being together. It was a moral issue. But was there really anything immoral about Annie and I being with each other? If she would have me, of course. One kiss wouldn't change the fact that I'd broken her heart, even though I'd broken my own in the process. I wouldn't blame her if that was a deal breaker, or for not forgiving me for not being more honest at the start. The feeling of heartbreak may have been mutual, but I wouldn't lie and say she hadn't gotten the shitty end of the stick.

Annie stirred slightly next to me, sighing softly and rolling towards me, her hands tucked up under her chin. I adjusted myself to accommodate her, slipping one arm under her neck and placing my hand against the small of her back to pull her closer. A tiny hum vibrated in her throat. Our positions let me put my chin on the top of her head and loop an ankle between hers so we were almost completely entwined. Words didn't exist to describe how good it felt to be close to her again, feeling her warm and alive, clearly thinking herself safe enough around me to sleep so deeply.

Carefully, I slipped the tips of my fingers under her shirt to rub the base of her spine and closed my eyes. I was half asleep when Annie mumbled my name groggily and pulled me back towards consciousness. I managed a throaty hum in response, my mouth not quite up to working. She sighed and shifted against me but didn't pull away. The base of her stomach rubbed pleasantly against my groin, and even though I knew it was probably a good idea to shift my hips back, I was too comfortable to move.

“Hey,” she said in her sweet, rough, post-sleep voice.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“Guess you took that nap after all, huh?” I felt her smile against my neck.

“You knew I would,” I replied. “Don't be cocky.”

“Mm, no, that's your job, isn't it?” She chuckled and kissed my throat, then let out a softer, happy sigh and settled against me again. “This is nice,” she continued a few seconds later. “I missed this.”

“Me, too,” I replied.

“I missed you kissing me, too.” She paused and hooked a finger in the collar of my shirt. “And touching me.” My breath caught. My stomach tightened, the tension creeping down to my groin. I shifted my hips away from hers, putting an inch of distance between our bodies, just to be safe. “Do you miss touching me?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

Annie hesitated. “Do you want to?” I nodded again, very slowly. “I had a dream,” she continued. “It was nice, but... It worked me up a bit. A lot. I'd take care of the job myself, but… You're here, and I'm tired and I missed you.”

“Annie...” I said, even though my brain and body were screaming at me to do what she wanted.

She silenced my forthcoming protest with a gentle kiss. “We're not doing anything wrong,” she said, and it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as me. We shared that opinion, at least. “And we've done it before,” Annie continued. “And it was good. Wasn't it?”

“You know it was,” I replied.

I moved my hand from her back to let it rest on the curve of her hip and rub my thumb against the bare skin between her shirt and shorts, rolling the pad along the jut of her bone. She stared up at me through half-closed eyes as she twisted her fingers around the collar of my shirt to hold me close to her. I let her kiss me, moving my lips against hers. I felt her body roll beneath my hand, hips tilting so that my hand slid to the base of her stomach. I could hear the little staggers in her breath as clearly as she could hear mine. I didn't ask if she was really sure about what she wanted. I didn't want to break the magic by bringing up the issue of her parents. I wanted to keep her close to me, to touch me and hold me like she was so good at doing, and I wanted to make her feel high as a cloud.

I thumbed the button on her jeans and gave it a gentle, almost playful tug. She hummed into my mouth and dropped one hand to cover mine, nudging my fingers in her attempt to pop the button without moving her other hand from my shirt. I helped, my touch as gentle as I could. When the button was free, Annie pulled down the zipper and guided my hand into her panties. I held my breath. She was warm and damp, and the small sigh that rushed over my neck when I touched her sent chills along my spine and put goose bumps on my arms. It had been a while since I'd touched anyone but myself, and even that was rare these days, but my body remembered what my mind hadn't quite forgotten.

I extended my fingers and lightly stroked her arousal and sparse, wiry curls. Annie shuddered and pressed her face into my neck. I kissed her hair, resting my head on top of hers, and watched my knuckles push at the fabric that covered my roving hand. I could feel my own desire tightening my jeans, but I ignored it.

Annie had always been quiet. Her breathing was heavy against my collarbone, but aside from the occasional sigh and tiny groan, she made little noise. She grew wetter under my fingertips.

I shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure from my growing erection pressing against the front of my jeans, to little effect, but at least moving my hips away from Annie's kept her from noticing. I didn't want to frighten her, oddly enough, or make her feel like she had to reciprocate. I was well aware of how lucky I was that she was letting me touch her at all, and I didn't want anything to ruin that, certainly not by my own obtrusive desire. Her breath was hot against my throat.

I kissed the top of her head again and carefully teased a finger through her folds. She angled her legs as widely as she could, restrained as she was by her shorts. I wanted to take them off, to kiss her stomach and bury my face between her legs and taste her, but I pushed my urges down just as I slipped my finger inside her. The pressure made her gasp. A tiny moan worked its way out of her throat. I was hard, straining against my jeans and aching to be touched, but I simply wanted to make her feel good. That was all I had ever wanted.

The walls of her sex clenched around my finger. I crooked it just slightly, rubbing the space behind her clit. She'd taught me that, I remembered with a fond smile that I hid in the mess of her hair. She wrapped her fingers around my wrist and pushed my finger deeper. My knuckles pressed against her and my thumb brushed against her clit. She muffled a choked moan into the crook of my neck. When she kissed me, it was hard and desperate, her tongue pressing against my teeth and brushing along mine. I shared the tension in her body, her panting breaths, the heat that seeped out from her skin.

An 'I love you' bubbled up in the back of my throat, contained only by the constant pressure of her lips on mine as she jerked and found release, her body trying to pull my finger in even deeper. I was buried up to my knuckle in her, still gently rubbing the pad of my finger against her. I didn't stop until the hand around my wrist pushed it away. She clutched the front of my shirt, thoroughly wrinkling the cotton, and panted against my neck as her body shook. My fingers rested between her legs, stroking. Our kisses slowed to gentle pecks, and her breathing gradually returned to normal. I moved my hand, letting sticky fingers rest on her bare hips.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her voice low and rough. She laughed into my skin, then sighed, long and loud, a happy, contented sound. “What time is it?”

I craned my arm around to squint at my watch. The light in the room had dimmed even further, and I had to blink a few times to see it. “Four thirty-ish.”