Her smile dimples her cheeks. “Remember when we were sixteen and you said that if you ever got head from Farrow Redford Keene, you’d self-combust and need CPR and an ambulance?”
“Was that me?” I joke.
“Most surely.”
My lips hike up a fraction. “My sixteen-year-old virginal self would’ve needed a stretcher if Farrow gave me head back then—”
A light knock raps the doorframe. Yeah, the door is wide, wide open.
And Farrow stands there.
Gun holstered, earpiece in, radio hooked to his black belt, V-neck tucked. He’s ready for today and I’m naked in a shower with my cousin doing her hair three feet away. Plus, I just admitted aloud that I thought about him sexually at sixteen.
Great.
I add to the bathroom, “Hypothetically.”
Farrow leans a shoulder on the doorframe. “You were hypothetically a virgin at sixteen?”
Jane snaps her curling iron at Farrow. “No virgin-shaming.”
Farrow seems to just now fully register Jane’s presence. He looks between us, and his gaze trails down my partially concealed, naked build. His eyes ping back to Jane, then me. “Is this a usual thing here?” he asks us.
I’m glad he drops my “hypothetical” story and fixates on my relationship with Jane.
She returns the curling iron to the cupboard. “There’s only one bathroom, and it should be more peculiar for Moffy’s bodyguard to see him half-naked than for me to.”
Farrow tilts his head from side to side, considering the statement. “I don’t think so. See, you’re related—”
“Exactly.” Jane is in defense mode, ready to debate her side like she’s prepared with note cards, power point slides, and four-thousand word essays. “It means nothing to see each other naked because we’re cousins, and really, if we dig deep, nudity is a social construct—”
“Okay, Cobalt,” Farrow interjects. “I’ll take a pass on the sociology lecture.”
I hang onto the top of the shower door. I need them to get along. “How about we destroy the argument over which one of you is weirder for seeing me half-naked? I can think of a million other topics to debate. Like…” I toss up my hand and say the first fucking thing I can think of. “…why bananas are curved.”
Jane answers, “Bananas grow towards the sun, Moffy, so as they develop against gravity, they become curved in shape.” Cobalts consume trivia like water. Necessary to everyday life.
Farrow laughs. “I take it back, your relationship is cute.”
Jane eyes him curiously. “You know…I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm.”
“It’s genuine,” he assures.
Before I broke the whole bodyguard-client boundary, I’d call their relationship cordial, but to both be in my life now, they may have to form something closer to a friendship.
And if they can’t…I don’t know what happens.
An apocalypse?
Jane glances at Farrow and then pulls out acne medicated face wash. “Just so you realize, Moffy has told me about you two.”
“I sensed that.” He watches Jane. “Are you okay with keeping this secret?”
She nods. “You don’t have to worry, I’d never tell anyone.” Scrubbing her face, she creates suds. “If you break his heart, then you’ll have to worry about me.”
I smile at how blasé she says that.
Farrow tells her, “Threat noted.”
She rinses her face and pats her cheeks dry with a towel. “Which one of you made the first move anyway?”
“Me,” Farrow and I say in unison.
He laughs.
I scowl. “I’m one-hundred percent positive I kissed you first.”
Farrow leans even more casually, his relaxed posture so damn sexy. “I’m also one-hundred percent positive I was the one who told you how I felt first.”
“Move is an action. I took the first action,” I rebut.
“If that’s what you want to believe, I’m not going to stop you.” His brown eyes sweep me from head to toe, and the steam in my shower feels hotter all of a sudden. I had sex with a childhood crush.
Five years older than me.
My bodyguard.
Blood pools south, and my cock almost rouses. Aching to be gripped. Which just means I’ve mentally sidelined the repercussions and accepted the full-blown attraction.
Do I crave a repeat of last night? So damn much. I stare off in a split-moment, picturing last night. His tattooed hand sliding up my chest. Holding my jaw, his other hand squeezing my—I blink and blink rapidly, catching myself in a trance.
Farrow stares at me with a knowing look.
“I can leave if you need me to,” Jane says.
My head whips to her. “No, this is your house. Nothing’s changed for you and me.” I can’t kick Janie out of the fucking bathroom. It’s her bathroom too.
Jane contemplates this for a short second. Then her blue eyes land on my bodyguard. “Do you care if I’m here?”
“No,” Farrow says quickly, the only correct answer in my mind. “Do you care if I’m here?”
“No,” she says just as fast.
“Okay.” Farrow nods. “Then we’re cool.”
She nods firmer.
I’m highly aware that they feel pressure to get along. And that pressure is coming from me. But for this to work, all three of us have to coexist.
20
FARROW KEENE
“Work with me here, Farrow,” Akara says over my phone that I placed in the cup holder of the Audi. Set to speaker while Maximoff speeds about twenty-five over to a gentleman & lady’s charity golf tournament. “All of your daily logs are empty after 7:00 p.m.”
Maximoff shoots me a narrowed look.
I mouth, it’s okay. I’d touch him, his hand or his shoulder, but I keep a close eye on two silver SUVs that ride our bumper. I’m not sure if they have far-range camera lenses, but if one even briefly catches us in a slight embrace, we’re done.
I like him too much to risk everything now just to hold hands, especially when I can grip his cock later tonight.
“I just don’t see the issue,” I tell Akara. “When I was on Lily’s security detail, I always left gaps in the daily logs. If Alpha’s not used to that by now, then that’s their fucking problem. Not yours.”
My “maverick” tendencies make sneaking around with Maximoff easier. Where did your client go from 7:00 p.m. to midnight? Blank.
No one’s business but ours.
“Forget Alpha,” Akara growls, switching between “boss” and “friend” too well. “This is me talking to you right now, and I’m telling you that I have two bodyguards on my Force not filling out their logs. Did I not specifically remind you that Quinn would pick up your habits?”
An annoyed noise sticks to my throat. I didn’t notice he was copying me. I don’t actively check everyone else’s logs. It’s a waste of time. “Man, it could be a good thing,” I say, fixing my earpiece as muffled sound filters through. “He’s learning from one of the best.”