to move away from her, since all he wanted was to hold her closer, tighter. Lift her chin, kiss that sweet mouth, run his hands over her breasts and stomach. Gently run his finger along her slit, delve between her wet folds. Be inside her, hard and deep. Watch her beautiful face as she shattered around him.
And now you’re going to sit next to her all night long, watching her sleep. Fuck, man. You’re toast.
**
Olivia was curled up under the blankets in Dallas’ bed, warm and calm. Dallas sat next to the window, his long legs extended in front of him, the gun on his lap. Even in the semi-darkness she could see the outline of his body, his muscles curved and huge.
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, hon?”
She turned on her side to face him. “Can I ask about you?”
“Me?” He shrugged. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. It’s just – you know every single thing about me, right? You know my Mom runs an apartment complex in New York that I bought her, and you know who I’ve dated, and you know my net worth, and you know what I eat for breakfast. And I feel kind of… weird about it.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah, me too. We knew each other before, like as friends, so from the beginning, you weren’t a typical client for me. It’s been a bit… strange, I guess, to walk this line between personal and professional.”
“I know what you mean. So is it OK if I ask?”
“Shoot, darlin’.”
“OK.” She paused. “What’s your real name?”
He half-laughed and half-groaned. “Oh, man. You just go right for the jugular, huh, baby?”
She giggled and he was happy to hear it.
“Yeah, well,” she said. “Emma said that you told her you don’t like your real name, so you use your nickname only. So… why don’t you like your birth name?”
“Well, mostly because it’s a family name, and I’m not close to my family.” He ran a hand up and down his jeaned thigh. “I’m named after my father and grandfather.”
She waited.
“OK, you’re not to tell anyone, hon. You swear it?”
“I do.”
“OK. My name is Scott Foreman the Third.”
She blinked. “You mean – your family is that Foreman family? The oil family in Dallas?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re not close to them?”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
“Because I decided to not go in to the family business, and I enlisted instead. I think they could have lived with that if I’d just been a soldier as a kind of casual thing, you know, done some training, seen a bit of combat, got it out of my system. But then I became a sniper, and never came home again. They had a hard time with all of that.”
“You don’t talk at all?”
“Barely. Dad gave me an ultimatum a few years ago: stop playing GI Joe and came on back to Dallas, or else he’d write me out of the will.” He shrugged. “I told him to go ahead.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I had money from my grandfather’s will – a few million – and I hadn’t touched a penny of it while in Iraq and Afghanistan. When I couldn’t stand shooting people through my scope any more, I came back to the States and tried to think what kind of business to set up. Personal security felt like a good fit for me and my skills.”
She nodded. “I think you were right.”
“When I was a kid, we used to come out here to go skiing and I’ve always loved Denver. So I bought these two houses – one for me, one as a rental – and started a whole new life. That was almost three years ago now, and things are going pretty great. More clients than I can handle, actually, and I think Dad’ll come around, eventually, but he’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Mom’s working on him, though. I talk to her once a month, I guess, and she’s damn proud of me. Says that my younger brother Michael is more than able to handle the business: he’s got his MBA and he likes the intricacies and intrigues of the oil industry. He’s much better at the job than I’d ever be, to be honest,
And now you’re going to sit next to her all night long, watching her sleep. Fuck, man. You’re toast.
**
Olivia was curled up under the blankets in Dallas’ bed, warm and calm. Dallas sat next to the window, his long legs extended in front of him, the gun on his lap. Even in the semi-darkness she could see the outline of his body, his muscles curved and huge.
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, hon?”
She turned on her side to face him. “Can I ask about you?”
“Me?” He shrugged. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. It’s just – you know every single thing about me, right? You know my Mom runs an apartment complex in New York that I bought her, and you know who I’ve dated, and you know my net worth, and you know what I eat for breakfast. And I feel kind of… weird about it.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah, me too. We knew each other before, like as friends, so from the beginning, you weren’t a typical client for me. It’s been a bit… strange, I guess, to walk this line between personal and professional.”
“I know what you mean. So is it OK if I ask?”
“Shoot, darlin’.”
“OK.” She paused. “What’s your real name?”
He half-laughed and half-groaned. “Oh, man. You just go right for the jugular, huh, baby?”
She giggled and he was happy to hear it.
“Yeah, well,” she said. “Emma said that you told her you don’t like your real name, so you use your nickname only. So… why don’t you like your birth name?”
“Well, mostly because it’s a family name, and I’m not close to my family.” He ran a hand up and down his jeaned thigh. “I’m named after my father and grandfather.”
She waited.
“OK, you’re not to tell anyone, hon. You swear it?”
“I do.”
“OK. My name is Scott Foreman the Third.”
She blinked. “You mean – your family is that Foreman family? The oil family in Dallas?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re not close to them?”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
“Because I decided to not go in to the family business, and I enlisted instead. I think they could have lived with that if I’d just been a soldier as a kind of casual thing, you know, done some training, seen a bit of combat, got it out of my system. But then I became a sniper, and never came home again. They had a hard time with all of that.”
“You don’t talk at all?”
“Barely. Dad gave me an ultimatum a few years ago: stop playing GI Joe and came on back to Dallas, or else he’d write me out of the will.” He shrugged. “I told him to go ahead.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I had money from my grandfather’s will – a few million – and I hadn’t touched a penny of it while in Iraq and Afghanistan. When I couldn’t stand shooting people through my scope any more, I came back to the States and tried to think what kind of business to set up. Personal security felt like a good fit for me and my skills.”
She nodded. “I think you were right.”
“When I was a kid, we used to come out here to go skiing and I’ve always loved Denver. So I bought these two houses – one for me, one as a rental – and started a whole new life. That was almost three years ago now, and things are going pretty great. More clients than I can handle, actually, and I think Dad’ll come around, eventually, but he’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Mom’s working on him, though. I talk to her once a month, I guess, and she’s damn proud of me. Says that my younger brother Michael is more than able to handle the business: he’s got his MBA and he likes the intricacies and intrigues of the oil industry. He’s much better at the job than I’d ever be, to be honest,
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