back, she pulled out her Gibson Western Classic, a large acoustic guitar that she loved for its rich, full sound. She hadn’t held it in months, and the feel of the polished wood against her fingers was like coming home. Something inside her was waking up after a long hibernation. Finally.
She turned, and her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of Colt, sitting on a stool at the back and chatting with Mike, her studio manager. Totally relaxed and at home. Drinking a cup of fucking coffee. Looking sexy as hell.
Looking as if he had every right to be here.
“Taylor, this is Colt Priestley.” Jeremy waved a hand in Colt’s direction, who stood from his perch on the stool and strode toward her. A flash of metal at his hip caught her attention, a holster peeking out from under the hem of his T-shirt.
Oh God. Colt was a bodyguard. He was her bodyguard. Everything clicked into place—his protectiveness at the bar the other night, the military tattoo she’d seen in the dark, the scars she’d noticed on his body, but hadn’t asked him about.
No. No, no, no. She couldn’t do this.
A dizzying swirl of emotions crashed into her, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe. Anger, fear, disappointment, lust, and anxiety all wove together into a fucked-up tapestry, wrapping her in its unwelcome fabric. She suddenly felt cold, despite the trickle of sweat working its way between her breasts at the sight of him. Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she wondered what they’d all do if she bolted, just got in the Corvette and drove away. But instead, she stood where she was, pinned by the weight of it all.
“What the fuck?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken the words out loud until Jeremy shot her a puzzled glance. Her skin tingled uncomfortably, a cold wave of dread crashing into her. She recovered quickly as Colt’s eyes met hers.
He wore beat-up jeans and a gray Henley shirt, his sleeves pushed up around his elbows, leaving a swath of those tantalizing feathers exposed. His jeans emphasized his muscled thighs, and suddenly she was looking at his package and remembering how freaking fantastic he’d felt inside her.
She snapped her eyes back up, and the confusing turmoil of emotions continued to churn through her, disorienting her. She hadn’t wanted to see him again, and now here he stood, staring at her with those gorgeous green eyes, and she knew she was in trouble. Because even though she’d had the sense to run after the intensity they’d shared, she still wanted him. Wanted his mouth on hers, his big hands on her hips, and everything that came after.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and she noticed his knuckles, bruised and scraped. Her eyes darted back to his face, and she saw the black eye and the cut across his cheekbone that she’d been too stunned to notice at first. The obvious signs that he’d been in a fight sent another completely unwelcome ripple of arousal pulsing through her. He looked so damn sexy all scuffed up. She wanted to reach out and skim her fingers over the cut on his cheek, but instead, she curled her fingers into her palms, trying to shrink into herself and away from him. She wanted very much to pick up right where they’d left off, and that simply couldn’t happen. For her own sake, she had to fight this pull she felt toward him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the intensity in his green eyes as he’d asked her to come home with him. Being with Colt had been so much more than a simple distraction, and she knew that he’d consume her if she let him. Consume her like fire, and considering she was already ashes, she couldn’t let that happen.
She paused for a second, wondering why the hell she was so convinced that he’d hurt her if she gave him the chance. And then it hit her.
It was because he seemed too good to be true, and so had Zack. Colt was hot as hell, funny, kind, tough, and amazing in bed. But thanks to that experience with
She turned, and her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of Colt, sitting on a stool at the back and chatting with Mike, her studio manager. Totally relaxed and at home. Drinking a cup of fucking coffee. Looking sexy as hell.
Looking as if he had every right to be here.
“Taylor, this is Colt Priestley.” Jeremy waved a hand in Colt’s direction, who stood from his perch on the stool and strode toward her. A flash of metal at his hip caught her attention, a holster peeking out from under the hem of his T-shirt.
Oh God. Colt was a bodyguard. He was her bodyguard. Everything clicked into place—his protectiveness at the bar the other night, the military tattoo she’d seen in the dark, the scars she’d noticed on his body, but hadn’t asked him about.
No. No, no, no. She couldn’t do this.
A dizzying swirl of emotions crashed into her, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe. Anger, fear, disappointment, lust, and anxiety all wove together into a fucked-up tapestry, wrapping her in its unwelcome fabric. She suddenly felt cold, despite the trickle of sweat working its way between her breasts at the sight of him. Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she wondered what they’d all do if she bolted, just got in the Corvette and drove away. But instead, she stood where she was, pinned by the weight of it all.
“What the fuck?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken the words out loud until Jeremy shot her a puzzled glance. Her skin tingled uncomfortably, a cold wave of dread crashing into her. She recovered quickly as Colt’s eyes met hers.
He wore beat-up jeans and a gray Henley shirt, his sleeves pushed up around his elbows, leaving a swath of those tantalizing feathers exposed. His jeans emphasized his muscled thighs, and suddenly she was looking at his package and remembering how freaking fantastic he’d felt inside her.
She snapped her eyes back up, and the confusing turmoil of emotions continued to churn through her, disorienting her. She hadn’t wanted to see him again, and now here he stood, staring at her with those gorgeous green eyes, and she knew she was in trouble. Because even though she’d had the sense to run after the intensity they’d shared, she still wanted him. Wanted his mouth on hers, his big hands on her hips, and everything that came after.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and she noticed his knuckles, bruised and scraped. Her eyes darted back to his face, and she saw the black eye and the cut across his cheekbone that she’d been too stunned to notice at first. The obvious signs that he’d been in a fight sent another completely unwelcome ripple of arousal pulsing through her. He looked so damn sexy all scuffed up. She wanted to reach out and skim her fingers over the cut on his cheek, but instead, she curled her fingers into her palms, trying to shrink into herself and away from him. She wanted very much to pick up right where they’d left off, and that simply couldn’t happen. For her own sake, she had to fight this pull she felt toward him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the intensity in his green eyes as he’d asked her to come home with him. Being with Colt had been so much more than a simple distraction, and she knew that he’d consume her if she let him. Consume her like fire, and considering she was already ashes, she couldn’t let that happen.
She paused for a second, wondering why the hell she was so convinced that he’d hurt her if she gave him the chance. And then it hit her.
It was because he seemed too good to be true, and so had Zack. Colt was hot as hell, funny, kind, tough, and amazing in bed. But thanks to that experience with
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