In just 12 days, you’ll be able to read this hot, enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity menage novella. I am so excited for you to meet Cait, Rhett and Ryan on 3/17 – just in time for St. Patrick’s Day!
I am sharing a chapter that really gets to the heart of the conflict between these three characters. You’ll also hear from Caitlyn’s identical twin sister, Gwen. (No, she won’t be getting a story; she is happily married.)
Caitlyn is a sports commentator who has been targeted by a stalker. To keep the network’s prize asset safe from harm, Caitlyn Falk’s boss decides to take her to a secure hideout, over her strenuous objections.
But Rhett and Caitlyn are a volatile combination. Can Ryan help smooth the way between them?
Find out in Confined with the CEO and the Bodyguard: Caitlyn. Preorder wherever eBooks are sold. .99 release week only!
CHAPTER FOUR:
ALONE, I shrug out of my coat and hang it in the spacious closet. I’m too rattled by the evening’s strange turn of events to sleep, so I spend the next hour hanging my collection of tailored jewel-toned sheath dresses—my signature look—so they don’t wrinkle. I check in with my sister while setting up my makeup on the counter.
“How’s Frankie?” I ask. “Does he miss me?”
Instead of responding, Gwen holds the phone close enough to my pet for me to hear his unmistakable grumbly purr.
“Traitor,” I complain.
She laughs. “He’s fine. We’re old friends. I gave him a long session with the feather teaser, a little catnip, and some kitty treats. Now I’m having a glass of whisky and watching X-Men.”
“Sounds like a nice night. Better than mine.”
“How’s the secure location working out?” Gwen asks. The sympathy in her voice makes my eyes sting with tears.
“Fine. Better than fine, really. Based on the car Ryan was driving I figured we were headed for some deer-heads-and-antlers-quality digs, but this place is more like a multimillionaire’s vacation home.” I dig through the pockets of my suitcase and discover a lump that might be my hair dryer. Instead, I extract my personal massage device.
Oh, excellent. That will make it much easier not to do something stupid like hook up with Ryan or worse, my boss.
I set it aside.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I didn’t have a lot of warning myself,” Gwen says. “Rhett did basically the same thing to me that he did to you—called me up, gave me half an hour to pack, and told me to get in the car. I wouldn’t have gone along with it if it hadn’t been for the timing.”
“The timing?”
“The switch had to be this evening because Vance is being transported. There was no way for him to be watching you, and the press wasn’t on the hunt for you yet. Now I’m here, nice and cozy, with your attack kitty to keep my safe. As long as I never leave your apartment, no one will know I’m here as a decoy.”
“That’s going to be insanely boring.”
“Taking one for the team, Cait. Hope you appreciate it.” Her voice softens. “You know I’ll do anything to help.”
I swallow. “I know. I’d do the same for you.”
The vibrator dangles from my fingers. We disconnect, and I press the switch. It jumps into motion. I smile to think of the last time I used it, a little over a week ago. I had traveled to Florida to work the last game between Tampa’s Buccaneers and the Seahawks. It’s surreal how fast everything closed down. Events are so fresh that the device still carries a charge.
I lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling of my unfamiliar room. I place my favorite attachment on the wand and kick off my pants, the loose top and my sports bra.
Hands. I imagine strong hands on my body, covering my breasts. Hot kisses trailing down my neck. Up my inner thighs. I think of strong male bodies with stiff cocks and moan.
The vibrator’s silicone tip does its job efficiently. I’m used to taking care of this myself. It’s easier than trying to date, but I miss the slow build of true desire. I fantasize about Ryan’s rock-hard body on mine. But when the climax hits me, it’s Rhett’s silver eyes I see.
#
I pad downstairs at seven the next morning to inspect my prison.
What a backward situation, that I am confined here while my tormentor is technically free. Resentment chokes me.
“Sleep well?”
Startled, I spill the hot water I’m using to make my tea. “Great, Mr. Everett.”
He saunters into the kitchen wearing only a loose pair of sweatpants. With a flash of heated embarrassment, I realize I am staring at the impeccably sculpted wall of his abdomen and pectorals. I force myself to look anywhere but at him. The stove burners become instantly fascinating.
“I thought I’d make pancakes for breakfast.”
He leans back against the countertop, watching me.
“Sounds great. I’m good with this, though. No need to make an effort on my behalf.” I raise my mug and smile. I feel naked without makeup. It feels as though we’re having the morning after awkwardness from a one-night-stand, without the benefit of having had sex.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “You might want to check out the pool. It’s in the back.”
“I didn’t bring a suit,” I blurt out. Damn and double-damn. Why did I say that, to him, of all people?
Rhett’s too smart not to pick up on the fact that his nakedness has put me off-balance. He opens the refrigerator and starts taking things out. A stick of butter. Eggs. Milk. Orange Juice. With each turn and shift I get a fresh angle of his mouthwatering torso. Casually, he glances over his shoulder and smirks. “You can always swim naked. I won’t look.”
My face flames. I grip my mug in both hands, ignoring the searing heat on my palms. “Uh-huh,” I mumble before moving into the dining room to the side of the kitchen. The bank of windows gives an unimpeded view of the mountainside. I stare blankly at the gorgeous vista, but my boss’ body is burned into my retinas.
I close my eyes. Memories of his lanky motions reel through my mind. A confusing flutter in my midsection indicates that my feelings toward Rhett Martens are more complicated than I like to admit.
Under different circumstances, being holed up with these two men would be ideal. But now? the presence of two extremely attractive men is nothing but torture. I just hope my wand is up to the task of getting me through this ordeal.
A whiff of chlorine touches my senses and a blast of cool air wafts over me. My eyes snap open and I turn to find Ryan coming around the corner.
“Hi,” I say. Ryan has a towel wrapped around his waist and another flipped around his neck. The sight of this does things to my stomach. “Um…Mr. Everett is making pancakes.”
He grins. “That should be interesting.”
“Interesting?” I repeat. I am preoccupied with trying to keep my eyes where they belong, which is not lingering over his naked torso. But the smile that ghosts over his mouth stops me cold.
“Rhett’s not known for his culinary skills,” Ryan informs me.
As if on cue, there comes an ear-splitting blare from the smoke alarm system. The smell of burning food touches my senses, and muttered curses follow. I press a fist to my lips to prevent from smiling—or at least, to keep Ryan from seeing my amusement.
They’re friends, I realize with a flash of disappointment. Which means that the bodyguard isn’t likely to welcome my advances. Not with the tension simmering between me and Rhett. I can’t ignore the fact that my boss clearly has designs on me.
The commotion in the kitchen quiets. I imagine Rhett waving a towel like a deranged, shirtless matador, and smile. Ryan catches my eye.
“Try to act impressed,” he says, and pats me on the shoulder in a gesture I recognize from the rival-friend bro world of football. “I don’t think Rhett has ever cooked for a woman before.”
“I’ll be gentle,” I promise. “Sounds as though you ought to go and bail him out before he burns the place down, though. Mind if I check out the pool?”
He hesitates. I wonder how secure this location really is. If anything were to happen to the men who brought me here, I’d be on my own in the woods, far from any other source of assistance. But then he shrugs and says, “Go ahead. I’ll make sure Rhett produces something edible for breakfast. We won’t bother you until it’s time to eat.”
I make my way down the hallway past a powder room and out a wood-and-glass door into a heated side room. It’s cooler here than it was in the main house, but still warm enough to tempt me. There’s an artfully placed arrangement of potted plants near one window that makes the pool feel as though it’s part of the outdoors.
I hold the handrail and step onto the top stair. Water caresses my ankles.
“What the hell,” I mutter. Rhett invited me to swim naked, so strip off my clothes and do a few laps. I can only do five or six strokes each crossing but I enjoy the rhythm and the calming submersion.
For the first time in weeks, I relax. The situation with Eddie Vance has weighed heavily on my mind. It’s better than it was right after his stolen videos started appearing on the internet, but I still carry a lot of anger and resentment for the way he’s upended my life. Which is why, when I come up for air at the end of one lap and see him standing outside the window, I shriek my lungs out.
Copyright Jordana Pearce, 2021. All rights reserved.
Jordana Pearce 