Page 60 of Unguarded

Cash grabs my hand, pulling my fingers up to his lips. He kisses them softly, lips lingering. He doesn’t respond; instead, he kisses each one of my fingertips, nibbling on the last one. I gasp, the sensation shooting straight down to my groin.

“I heard you might need me. I’m here because I couldn’t stay away.”

I sigh, closing my eyes. That was all I needed to hear.

22

CASH

“I’m here because I couldn’t stay away.”

Now, she knows, but whether or not she’ll remember it is another thing. She’s concussed from her fall and hitting her head. Her face is cupped under my hand as I try to file through all the emotions coursing through me.

Her stalker is back.

He waited for me to leave her.

I could be wrong, but the coincidence of him returning less than two weeks after I left is too strange. Maybe he was trailing her the entire time, waiting for his moment. As soon as Brooks texted me the picture of what he left in her dressing room, I booked two red-eye flights. I didn’t sleep at all the whole thirteen hours. I’ve been awake for nearly thirty hours now.

Monroe’s eyes are closed, her breath evening out.

“How do you feel, baby?”

If Duke could hear the way I’m talking now, I’d never hear the end of it. Monroe’s state of vulnerability and myundeniable attraction to her are causing me to say and do things I never thought I would allow myself to.

Her eyes blink open. “You left me. And you didn’t even say goodbye.”

The accusation hangs in the air between us.

Guilt claws at me. She’s right; I did. I left her. I ran like a coward. Not from the stalker—that bitch doesn’t scare me. I was running from her, from my own vulnerability. She can tear down all my walls with just a look, and it scares the shit out of me.

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” My voice is strained.

I continue to caress her cheek, the motion seeming to calm her, but then she leans away from my touch.

“I don’t believe you. Everyone always leaves me. He left, she left, they always leave.” Her voice breaks.

Who left? Her parents?

My fist clenches. “What can I do to convince you?”

She nibbles her lip as she contemplates. I groan, feeling the reaction of blood pumping between my legs. She sits up, eyes narrowed at me.

“I don’t need your protection anymore. I have Brooks and Mike, and just because you waltzed back in here with your stupid cowboy boots and yourcallusesdoesn’t mean I have to give in to you.”

“My calluses?”

She grabs my hand, brushing her fingers over the rough pads of my fingertips and palms. “This. These are calluses.”

Damn. Her concussion is worse than I thought.

I study her face before looking down at my hands again. “What are you talking about? These are from hauling hay and bull riding.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you get it? I want them all over me. I want to feel those calluses in all my sensitive places. How do you not know this?”

I thought I knew women. I thought I understood female preferences and sexual desires, but this is a new one for me. And now, I’m going to think about it all the damn time. She rolls her eyes again, shoving me off of her. I suddenly recognize the denim shirt she’s wearing. It’s the one I gave her when I saved her life at the Sundance Pavilion over a year ago.

“You know what? I’m done with this conversation. Your brother can stay, but you need to go.” She rises to stand, but her shirt has shifted, and half her breast is out, nipple barely covered by a scrap of silk.

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