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I never prepared to be hurt by the people I love. By two Cobalts. By my parents. Aren’t they supposed to believe me and trust me? When I’ve done nothing devious in my life to elicit their doubt. Yet, they’re the ones who believed I could be in a forbidden relationship with my best friend. Oh, and that best friend—he happens to be my cousin. It’s unthinkable. Never in my life have I ever even imagined…
Thatcher knew the names of all my cats when he wasn’t even on my detail. That fact alone is highly attractive. And it means that he’s paid attention to my life before being assigned to protect me.
“It took practice to read yours.” Fact: Thatcher Moretti taught himself to decipher my handwriting. He didn’t have to do that. My old retired bodyguard never did.
“It’s distracting.” Why am I clarifying at all? Hands full, I nod to his package. “Your dick.” End this quickly, Jane. “You’re big, which you know—we both know.” Oh my God. He goes to speak, and I cut him off, “It’s just that you’re not wearing boxer-briefs.” He’s my boyfriend; I shouldn’t be this flustered around him anymore. Thatcher nods, looking me over from head-to-toe. “I almost never wear them with drawstring pants.”
“You need someone to have your six right now. Putting my cock in your pussy pretty much hinders that.” I love him.
“I’m putting my duffel under your bed. All of your clothes can go back in the closet.” I crinkle my brows. “You’re not living out of a bag.” “It doesn’t bother me—” “It bothers me,” I rebut. “Greatly.” I think quickly while he sidles next to me. “So you’d prefer not to unpack? Would you rather live somewhere else?” “Hell no.” Skin pleats his forehead. “I already said I want to be here.” More strongly, he emphasizes, “I want to live with you, Jane.”
Our lips collide in a scalding, sensual kiss that melds me against his chest. I rise on the tips of my toes. Electricity spindles up my limbs, from each toe to my head. My fingers descend to his ass, and his tongue parts my lips. Yes. A high-pitched noise tickles my throat, and his hand slips beneath my flannel top. Scorching my skin. We are overflowing magma. Heat gathers, and our bodies scream blistered pleas for skin-on-skin contact everywhere.
“We’re still kerosene.” Flammable. Combustible. I smile. “Sounds disastrously right.”
DAD Your mom and I are on our way. We need to talk.
But I have three-inches on Connor. And still, I don’t think a single person could walk in this room and tell. Jane’s dad stands like he owns the world. Expensive slacks and navy-blue button-down, a Cartier watch on his wrist that probably costs more than my uncle’s row house. He has billion-dollar energy that screams I’m better than you. Arrogant. Poised. All the way down to the look in his eyes and posture.
I'M SCREAMING. I MISSED CONNOR.
“I’ve only been living here for less than an hour, sir.” Connor doesn’t even pause. “You’ve been sleeping with her for much longer than an hour.” Holy fuck.
“You wouldn’t want someone who forced themselves on Jane to be put in jail?” “No, I wouldn’t.” My voice is deep and assured. “I’d want them dead.” I’d also like to be the one to carry out the murder, but I don’t add that fact. I’m not sure Connor would appreciate how easily I could kill someone, even if it’d be for Jane. Connor sizes me up for a second. “Coffee?”
“So when Jane told us her boyfriend of three months was moving in with her, I thought it was fast. What do you think?” It’s not slow. Don’t fucking say that, Thatcher. “It’s the speed that works for us, sir.” “But you didn’t think to wait to move in until you met her parents or told her siblings you were dating their sister.” No. Because I’m apparently really damn good at moving out of order.
“Respectfully, sir, I’m not going to apologize for following my heart. And Jane was just following hers.” His unreadable expression puts me on edge. He stands straighter and grabs his coffee. “You remind me of someone.”
“You’re still alive, so I take it Richard didn’t do a good job annihilating you. Did he tell you that you’re moving too fast?” Jane’s mouth drops. “Mom.”
“Did he tell you that your cock will be on the end of a skewer, if you so much as hurt a hair on her head?” Jane mutters, “Oh my God.” She mouths to me, I’m so sorry. I shake my head, telling her it’s okay. I’d be more upset if her parents didn’t love her. To Rose, I say, “We didn’t get to that yet.” That, as in cock-skewering.
“Look at these, please.” She passes me the photo album. “Don’t do it,” Jane tells me. “It’s a terrible, awful trick.” Rose rolls her eyes. “Gremlin, I’m not tricking your boyfriend.”
“You had the loudest cry. It was earsplitting. Look at those photos and remember that all babies cry. They will wake you up at odd hours of the night. They are not cute little squishy things. They are menaces.” Her fiery glare drills into me. “So when you’re thinking about having unprotected sex with my daughter, remember these photos.”
“Oh…God, Mom.” Jane’s eyes are full orbs. “He’s not going to think about me as a four-year-old right before we’re about to have sex!” Not that I need to mention the fucking obvious, but I agree with Jane. “We don’t need to bring God into this conversation,” Connor says calmly.
PLS. CONNOR IS SO FUNNY.
“Why are you smiling?” Rose snaps at me. My mouth flattens. “Because I think my girlfriend’s baby pictures are cute.” Jane brightens like radiant sunlight. Rose nods strongly. “She was a very cute baby.”
“You need to keep our daughter safe. Your job is to protect her from the person she’s sleeping with, and since that man is now you, you have a bigger responsibility to Jane.” He’s talking like I’m still on her detail. “I’m not her bodyguard anymore, sir.” “Last time I checked, you also weren’t her bodyguard when she was choked in her own bedroom. But now you are her boyfriend.”
Her safety is always on my mind. In every aspect of our relationship. Especially when we’re sleeping together.” “This is true,” Jane says like this is a business meeting. “I can confirm, but I’d like to keep the details of it private. Thank you.” Connor and Rose smile, clearly in admiration of their daughter.
“What’d your dad say?” She takes a shallow breath. “He said you’re not invited to Wednesday Night Dinner. Not yet.”
“You really weren’t scared when my dad started talking about how you’re six-seven and could hurt me while we’re having sex?” Farrow almost chokes on a bite of Lo Mein. Maximoff laughs like he just beat his fiancé at Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. The best (and quite frankly, sexiest) part: Thatcher is unperturbed and unflustered by the tiny grenade I flung. “No,” he tells me. “I wasn’t scared.” I help him fill water bowls for the cats. “You think it went well then?” I wonder. He glances at me, before wiping up a small spill. “Better than I thought it would.” But he’s still not invited to Wednesday
...more
Thatcher almost steals my full attention. He’s brushing Ophelia, and my white cat is absolute mush on the floor. Yes, Ophelia, he has that affect on me too. I know the feeling deeply well.
“You’ll need to talk to Farrow about details,” Maximoff says. I frown. “Why not you both?” “He’s been dreaming up his wedding since he was a kid. I never thought I’d get married.”
I missed four of her texts while I was on-duty. She’s missed three of my calls. Don’t think about it. Fuck that—she is all I’m thinking about. Jane Cobalt is still in every compartment of my brain, and I’m not looking to cut her out.
Banks Moretti. My identical twin, my soul and conscience, someone I couldn’t live without. The sun could be crashing down on the world, and Banks would be right by my side burning alive to push it back into the sky.
I’m head-deep, un-fucking-believably in love with this girl, and I would do anything for her.
“Where do you think you’ll end up? Heaven or hell?” He raises a shoulder in a stiff shrug. “I just know I want to be wherever you are.” He smacks my chest again. “And you’ll be chain-smoking in the afterlife with me.”
Once her five brothers learned that I’m their sister’s real boyfriend, I thought they’d all have something to say to me. Cobalts aren’t known to holster their opinions. Instead, I got tumbleweeds. Somehow that was worse.
“Maybe Jane isn’t telling you how much of a douchebag he is during the day, which is why she hasn’t called you back. She’s trying not to cause conflict between you and him on the team.” He turns more to me. “She’s protecting your job.”
“They wouldn’t have responded to you anyway, Banks.” My eyes sear, hating this part of being an identical twin. I slide a grave look to him. “My sins are your sins.” He bites harder on the toothpick. “Not everyone is a knucklefuck who treats us like one person.”
Pretend to be me and ask Epsilon for intel on comms. We practically have the same voice.” They won’t be able to tell the difference. I nod once, and I click the mic at my collar. “Banks to Epsilon, anyone know Tony’s AO?” I ask for his area of operations. Static crackles in my ear. And then the Epsilon lead cuts in, “Not your business, Banks.”
“Women around here aren’t good enough for you? You gotta go eat that expensive pus—” “You want your head inside your asshole, keep fucking talking,” I growl, blood coursing hot through my veins.
JANE COBALT & HER BODYGUARD BOYFRIEND – HAVE THEY SPLIT? Fake. Rumor. Still, I’m reading the slow closed captions with a knot in my throat. Where is… Thatcher Moretti? Fans are wondering… why Jane Cobalt… has a new bodyguard. Trouble… might be brewing between the… 23-yr-old American princess… and her towering, rugged protector… make that ex-protector. This November, Jane has barely… been spotted with Moretti in public. If you thought they’d head down the altar… before Maximoff & Farrow… maybe you should… rethink your bet.
that vacation next month to wherever Maximoff and Farrow pick, you won’t be with Jane then either.” I give him a hard look, then survey the bar. “Try not to throw your back out pouring all that salt on me.”
“I’m supposed to go on this trip and help protect Maximoff, and you’re supposed to stay behind and protect Xander.” His lip rises. “Switch places with me.” I think I hear him wrong. I know my twin brother is like a strong wind. He can adapt to any fragged mission and fly through hellfire. But he can’t be suggesting that.
“Just for the trip, you pretend to be me, and I’ll be you.” He’s lost his damned mind. “No,” I say strictly. “Hell no.” Banks lets out a short laugh. “You’re such a fucking gabbadost’.” He can call me a hardhead all he wants.
Her dad’s limo. For the past week, Jane has been borrowing the limo, just so she can block out Tony with the screen divider.
“You’re not my superior, Moretti.” “No, but I’m the boyfriend to your client.” I glare through sheets of rain. “And I’m allowed direct access to my girlfriend, so I’m telling you one last time. Move.” Tony lifts his chin like he thinks I’m bluffing. I touch my mic almost instantly, and I open my mouth to speak into comms—and just then, Tony finally sidesteps.
Do not fall into his lap like a bird without wings, Jane. You’re born from lions.
“I was born right where you’re sitting,” I realize aloud, and my cheeks heat. He looks at the seat, very briefly, then back to me. He’s so stoic; I can’t even begin to guess what he’s thinking.
I’m thinking you might regret that I moved in with you.” My eyes widen. “No,” I say quickly. “No, not at all. That’s not what I feel.” I set my binder aside. “I’m glad that we’re living together.” Panic creeps into my bones. “Do you have regrets about it?” “No.”
I’ve just kept awful things Tony has said to myself, and I thought it’d make your job easier. I wanted to give that to you. I wanted to give you something. But I feel like I’m hoarding secrets from a ride-or-die, and it’s made me quiet around you, and I think you can tell.” He nods, his muscles tensed.
He raises his hands to show me he’s not nearing. “Can you answer me something?” “Anything.” “Are you afraid of me?” I shake my head fiercely, a lump in my throat. “God, no.” I long for Thatcher in ways I’ve never longed for a man.
“What are you thinking?” He looks me over. “You keep me on my toes.” He lets out a laugh. “And it’s driving me nuts, and it’s un-fucking-real how much I want you.” “You have me,” I remind him.
“You’re confusing the hell out of me, and I want to walk with you through this, honey. But I don’t know where you’re going.” “I want you to hold me so badly,” I admit. I want you to swallow me whole. Fear pinpricks me, and I hate that I’m unwilling to drown in his comfort right now and yet I hate that I want to be completely and wholly consumed by him. “But I feel like I have to stand on my own first.”
“You owe me nothing for what I did. If you’d rather not be touched, I’d rather not touch you, Jane.” I love him. It chokes me. It throttles me. I don’t want it but I want it, and that is my tragedy.
