Seducing My Guardian (A Touch of Taboo) Page 2

  I close my eyes and steel my nerves. No. I didn’t misinterpret. I’m nearly certain of it, but there’s really only one way to find out and it involves shooting my shot in a way he can’t ignore. “I’m not getting in a cab, Devan.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m actually not.” I twist on my barstool to face him, only stopping when my knees connect with his. The tiniest of touches, but it shoots through me like a bomb going off. “It’s almost my birthday.”

  “I’m aware.” His thigh tenses, but he doesn’t otherwise move... Not even to shift away.

  “You’re early. Normally you don’t show up until the day of, and you at least let me have some fun before you show up to act like the birthday Grinch.” Though I doubt what happened last year could be called fun by any definition of the word. Fun is light and fluffy and maybe a little chaotic. My last birthday was fiery and burrowed beneath my skin in a way I’m afraid I’ll never escape. I’ve certainly fantasized about it often enough.

  Best not to think about that if I want to keep my focus.

  “Strange way to say thank you.”

  “Because I’m not saying thank you,” I snap back. “I never asked you to come looking for me, and I never asked you to save me.”

  Devan stares at the wall of bottles behind the bar. “You needed saving.”

  As much as I want to argue, it’s the truth. I was free falling for a long time after my parents’ death, and even when I finally found my feet, the one day of year certain to send me into a tailspin is my birthday. Every single fucking year. So maybe he’s a tiny bit right about my needing saving. “There may have been a few times when you were helpful.”

  He finally meets my gaze, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s so fucking handsome, I can barely stand it. A thick body that might give really good hugs or might just allow him to rip someone’s head clean off. Dark hair that’s a little too long and showing no signs of graying, despite the fact that he has to be in his early forties at this point. A really well-maintained beard that smelled like cloves last year when I had my face buried in his neck while he carried me.

  I can’t read Devan’s expression clearly. All I know is that it’s intense. He speaks in a low voice, saying so much with only a single word. “Amsterdam.”

  “Amsterdam,” I agree on a sigh. Twenty-two. Bar-hopping with a bunch of people I’d just met that night, too many drinks; one of which ended up getting dosed with something. I don’t remember Devan showing up. I don’t remember much of anything at all after taking shots with a group of guys I’d declared my new best friends. The next thing I knew, I came to, draped over a toilet with Devan’s hands in my hair, holding it away from my face as I puked my guts out. That’s the only time he’s stayed longer than to just deliver me to a plane back home. He took care of me.

  He’s been taking care of me for a long time, though not in a guardian kind of way.

  I force myself to hold his gaze. I spent too many years being a total train wreck, but I’m not that girl anymore. Realistically, I have a lifetime of work ahead of me but I’ve made a lot of progress since twenty-two. I’m putting in my time in therapy, working through all the baggage I’ve been dragging behind me for far too long.

  Then what is tonight about?

  I ignore the little voice that sounds remarkably like my therapist. Tonight is about closure. Shutting the door on one part of my life and opening a different door into the future. And…maybe… Maybe I’ve still got a wild streak, because I want this. I want it more knowing I shouldn’t have it. “This isn’t Amsterdam. That was a bad birthday.”

  Devan leans forward the tiniest bit, his dark eyes drilling into mine. “Have there been any good birthdays, Hazel?”

  I flinch a little. It’s a fair question. My first instinct is to avoid it, but that’s not fair to either of us. Instead, I take a slow breath and straighten my spine. “I’m hoping this one will be the first.”

  Devan holds my gaze and takes a long drink of his scotch. He jolts a little. For just a moment, he looks less like a personified storm cloud and more like an actual human. “This is Caol Ila.”

  That thick feeling in my throat comes back. It feels good and it hurts all at the same time, and somehow that makes everything better. How can a person appreciate the good things if they’ve never felt the sting of loss? I’ll never know. I never got the opportunity to know. “Mmhmm.” My smile trembles a little around the edges. “Dad’s favorite.”

  “Yeah.” The faintest smile touches his lips. “Yeah, it was.” For the millionth time, I wonder how this man became my guardian. I understand that he and my father served in the army together and that bonds a person, but is it really how someone chooses who should raise their child should the worst come to pass? And my mother, the pacifist? I can’t imagine her signing off on this choice, especially considering Devan was never around, but obviously she did because here we are.

  We finish our drinks in silence, and he sets his glass down with a clink. “Let’s go.”

  “Pass.” I start to motion to the bartender, but Devan catches my hand in a firm but impossible to escape grip. Not that I’m trying to escape. But giving in too easily won’t do, either. I eye where he holds me. “Devan, what time is it?”

  He doesn’t release me as he checks his watch. “Twelve-fifteen.”

  I smile. This time, it feels really. Really, truly real. “That means you’re no longer the executor of my trust fund. Happy birthday to me.” Now’s the time for courage, to put it all out there. For better or worse, I’ll have no regrets. I lean forward and lower my voice. “Do you know what I’d like for my birthday?”

  “What?” He asks warily.

  “You.”

  Chapter 3

  Devan releases me instantly. I stare at my wrist. He wasn’t holding me that harshly, but I swear I can feel the imprint of his skin against mine, a perfect replication of his five fingers and palm. He glowers at my empty glass. “How much have you had to drink?”

  I fully expected this question, which is why I showed restraint despite my nerves. “Just the one.” Honestly, I could have used more for a boost of courage. “I’m not even buzzed.”

  “Did that fucker drug you?” He starts to turn toward the trio of men in the corner, but I wrap my hand around his forearm. He’s just as thick here as he is on the rest of his body. Devan is just a big guy, and a devious part of my mind can’t help wondering if he’s as thick there, too.

  The thrill of touching him makes me lightheaded. A small thing, my hand on his forearm, but it feels like the prelude to so much more. Rather, I desperately want it to be a prelude to so much more. “Is it so hard to believe that I can be sober and want you?”

  “Yes,” he says shortly.

  “Devan.” Now it’s my turn to inject censure into my tone. Who the hell could look at this man and not want him? Sure, he’s not ripped, and he’s got a shitty attitude, but there is more to life than sunshine and muscles. He’s got a presence that dominates the room. Even without all that taken into account, he can’t pretend not to know that I want him. “I may have been blitzed last year, but I remember everything.”

  A faint flush colors his cheeks and his jaw goes tight. The tiniest of reactions, but he might as well have held up a glitter sign saying he’s affected by me, too. “I should have stopped you.”

  I’m so very glad he didn’t, for all that the memory brings as much embarrassment as it does desire. “But you didn’t.” I say it softly. “Surely I didn’t imagine how closely you watched me the entire time. You can’t pretend that was purely for safety reasons.”

  “I should have stopped you,” he repeats.

  “I’m glad you didn’t.” It’s the truth. I’ve never been able to quantify what I feel for Devan. It’s messy and confusing and I’ve hated him at times. But there’s no denying the craving I have that goes beyond simple desire.

  It’s pure lust.

  Last year, that lust bubbled over into action; at
least on my part. It takes barely any effort at all to be right back in that memory of us in the backseat of that town car. Of the sound he made when my skirt slid up to reveal my panties. It should have stopped there, but I’ve never been on that great of terms with control. I wanted to see if he’d stop me or…maybe take over for me. So I slid my hand into my panties and brought myself to a messy orgasm while he sat there, his body so still it might as well have been a statue. No, he didn’t touch me that night. But, god, he watched.

  I’ve masturbated to the memory of that sound he made and the heat in his eyes more times than I care to admit.

  “Don’t stare at me with that look on your face, Hazel. The answer is no.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  Disappointment lashes me. I knew this was a possibility, of course. I’ve been fucking up this man’s life once a year for the last six years. He might feel larger-than-life to me, but he’s only human. I suppose I could have read too much into his reaction last year. Damn it. I sigh and lean back. Did I really expect him to say anything different? He’s never wanted me, even if he’s always done his duty. Demanding more of him after he’s already dealt with so much is too selfish, even for me.

  I couldn’t have moved forward without shooting my shot, and it sucks that it wasn’t received well, but at least I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering if I should have at least tried. Disappointment won’t kill me tonight; it never has in the past. “Okay.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Okay,” he repeats. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

  “Same.” I turn and signal the bartender before he can stop me. It’s my birthday and I’ll be damned if I spent my first night free being bundled into a cab and sent home early. “Guess it’s time for Plan B.”

  If anything, his eyes narrow further. “I’m not going to like Plan B.”

  “Probably not, but as I’m twenty-five and you’ve washed your hands of me, you don’t really get a say.” I smile at the bartender as he delivers a second drink to me. “Thanks, darling. Nothing for the grump next to me.”

  “Hazel.” That delicious thread of warning in my name. “Explain.”

  “Oh, right.” I don’t take a drink, but I do pick up the glass. “I decided that since it’s my twenty-fifth birthday as of right now, it’s time to celebrate properly. I can’t do that alone. I’m taking someone home tonight. Not home-home, but I’ve booked a hotel room. Safety first and all that.”

  Devan blinks. He looks a bit like a cat that just got swatted with a newspaper. “If not me, then someone else. Just like that.”

  “Did that sting your pride?” I give him a slow smile, though my chest aches still from the rejection. “I’d prefer to take you upstairs and rock your world until dawn, but if you’re not interested, I’m sure someone in this bar is.”

  “I never said I wasn’t interested.” He stops short, but finally curses. “It’s not appropriate.”

  Now it’s my turn to blink. “Appropriate.” I should let it go. Despite the spoiled rich girl routine, I do know how to take “no” for an answer. Devan has most assuredly told me no. Pursuing this further is a recipe for disaster.

  Except…he just opened the door he slammed in my face two minutes ago.

  I shake my head, trying to focus. “Devan.” I promised myself I would let it go, that I would keep things even remotely classy, but how am I supposed to keep myself from responding to that? Appropriate? The very concept is laughable. “You watched me masturbate in the back seat of a car last year. Are you really going to argue about what’s appropriate right now?”

  His eyes go molten for the breadth of a moment before he locks it down, but it’s too late. I’ve seen it. Holy shit, I didn’t imagine his reaction that night. Devan McGuire…wants me. A whole hell of a lot, if that look was anything to go by.

  He glances away. “Like I said before; that shouldn’t have happened.”

  I want to argue. I want to argue so badly, I have to press my lips together to keep the words internal. I will not beg. I refuse to. If he’s determined not to cross the line with me, that’s his choice. “Okay.”

  “Now that we got that cleared up—”

  I shake my head. “No. Try again. Like I just said, if you’re not interested, that’s okay. You’re no longer my guardian. You no longer have to feel some obligation to track me down or worry about what I’m doing. But if you are not my guardian and you don’t want to fuck me, that means you have absolutely no say in what I do with the rest of my night.”

  “Hazel.”

  I give his shoulder an awkward pat. “Have a nice life. I know I wasn’t always graceful about it, but thanks for...” My voice threatens to break and I pause. No. None of that. This is a happy moment, and I might honor the past, but I’m moving on to a bright new future. Tonight is about closure. “Thanks for being a constant, even if it was one night a year.”

  “Fuck.” Devan grabs my drink and downs it. “Fuck.”

  I don’t know what that means, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. He’s made his call, and now it’s my turn to do the same. To let go, once and for all. I force myself to turn, breaking our tiny contact, and survey the room.

  There are plenty of interested eyes turned our way. Not all of them are aimed at me, of course. Devan is good looking in a rough and brutal kind of way. It’s more than just his physical looks; it’s the way he moves, the way he owns every room he walks into. For a long time, I thought I was the only one who reacted to him that way, but the last few birthdays have proved me wrong. When Devan steps through the door, people stop and take notice.

  Including everyone in this room.

  There’s a gorgeous older woman at a table in the corner, nursing a glass of white wine. She’s in an elegant dress, draped in diamonds, and has wavy dark hair. She’s also staring at Devan with enough heat to make me blush.

  “Maybe neither of us will leave alone tonight,” I murmur. No reason to feel the slightest bit of jealousy. No matter what my fantasies encompass, I have no more claim on this man than he has on me. We’re simply two people hurtling through life who were thrown into a collision course neither of us asked for.

  “Hazel.” His hand closes around my thigh and he uses the hold to spin me back to my former position, my knees against his. He searches my face. “You’re trying to provoke a reaction.”

  “Only a little,” I admit. I am not a perfect person, but I try very hard to be honest. Most of the time. “Though, contrary to popular belief, I do know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. You aren’t interested, so this is over. End of story.”

  His gaze drops to my mouth. “Just like that.”

  “Yes, just like that. Devan.” His name feels sinful on my tongue. “You keep saying you’re not interested. I keep trying to respect that. Why are you still arguing with me?”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

  An illicit thrill goes through me. “Don’t I?” I lean forward, nearly whimpering when I catch a faint hint of the oil he uses in his beard. It is cloves. I shiver. “I’m no innocent.”

  “I’m aware of that.” His voice drops. “I’d be the worst kind of bastard to put my hands on you.”

  I can’t pretend I had the best of intentions coming here tonight, making a big show of celebrating my birthday at midnight. I knew Devan would come for me, just like he always has in the past. I knew there was an attraction between us. In this moment, it feels like we’re wavering on the edge of something big. All we need is one good shove to send us past the point of no return. “I’m hoping you’ll put more than just your hands on me.”

  Chapter 4

  He curses. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Devan repeats.

  I lift my glass and take a long drink. “If you’re not interested, that’s fine. No harm, no foul. I’m not going to cry myself to sleep over it.” Liar. “But don’t you dare pretend that you’re doing it to protect me. I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.”
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  “Hazel.” He exhales slowly and glances away. “Look, I don’t know if there’s some white knight shit going on in your head, but that’s not me. I’m not going to lay you down in a bed of roses and make sweet love to you.”

  Thank god. I wouldn’t know what to do with that sort of thing. I don’t need a savior, no matter what he thinks. I snort. “Cute speech.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” I set my glass down. “Devan, we might not know each other well when it comes to all the mundane little trivia you pick up on the first three dates, but we know each other.” I lean forward until we’re kissably close. “If you’d stop to really consider it, you’d recognize that I would eat a white knight alive.” I hold his gaze, my heart in my throat. “Just like I know that you are more than capable of handling whatever I throw at you.”

  “Hazel.”

  “Let me finish please.” I draw in a shuddering breath. “But none of that matters.”

  Devan hasn’t seemed to breathe the entire time I spoke. He leans forward the tiniest bit, closing the distance between us a nearly imperceptible amount. “What matters, Hazel?”

  Every time he says my name, it’s like he’s stroking his fingertips down my spine. I try for a smile but can’t quite manage it. “The only thing that matters is that I trust you. And I know I’m safe with you.”

  He curses, low and furious. “That’s not fair.”

  “I know.” I never intended to play fair. Not when it comes to Devan or what I’d like to happen tonight. Especially now that I know he wants me; he’s just being held back by some strange moral code that I want nothing to do with. I hold his gaze and start to lean back, conveying a silent challenge.

  He moves before I get a chance to go far. Devan clasps the back of my neck, holding me in place. It’s not a rough grip, but there’s a promise of roughness there that makes me shiver. He drags his thumb lightly down the side of my throat, his eyes going hot. “You’re sure this is what you want?”