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  As my manager speaks to the tabloids on her phone, laughing raucously, I stare out the window at the lights passing by. For all the adoration, there is a yawning pit of loneliness inside my chest. My father came for a visit last week, but between dance rehearsal, photo shoots and live shows, I barely had any time to spend with him.

  I might as well be honest with myself.

  This loneliness isn’t a recent development.

  I’ve been lonely for an entire year.

  Since Murph walked out of my father’s living room, nothing has felt…right.

  As I often do, I allow myself to close my eyes and remember the weight of his huge, bruiser body on top of me. I bite my lip hard, skimming my hands up my bare thighs and think of that guttural grunt, those forbidden words he said to me. My nipples turn to painful little peaks and I rub at them discreetly, grateful for the darkness in the back of the SUV.

  Where did Murph go?

  It’s not unusual for him to disappear for chunks of time, although I still have no idea what exactly he does for a living. Only that it’s top secret and requires someone with tactical military experience. Someone indestructible.

  The flesh between my legs clenches hotly enough to make me gasp.

  Murph is nothing if not durable.

  Thousands of times over the course of the last year, I’ve wanted to call my father’s best friend and hear his voice. But I kept putting it off, afraid he wouldn’t want to talk to me.

  God. He would probably be so disappointed in me.

  Selling out. Adopting this bubble gum image. Singing manufactured pop instead of my own songs. I’m a fraud. And Murph is the most authentic person in the world. He tells it exactly like it is. He’s been through war and pain and he’s still standing. I’m afraid to know what he would think if he could see the pampered pop princess I’ve become.

  Taryn hangs up the call and claps twice. “You’re already trending.” She fluffs her cap of red hair and winks at me over her shoulder. “Well worth the price of a skinned knee, I say. You do have that Esquire shoot tomorrow, but it’s nothing a little Photoshop can’t fix.”

  I look down at the bloody cut and flop back against the seat, reminding myself not to be a complainer. “Right.”

  Half an hour later we pull through the security gate surrounding my house and stop in the circular driveway. At least I have this sanctuary. This is my safe place and no one can touch me here—

  My heart crams up into my throat when I see the dummy hanging over my front door with a red slash in its throat.

  The dummy looks exactly like me.

  Above the door, written in red paint, are the words, “You love me or you DIE.”

  A scream builds in my throat, heat stinging the back of my eyelids. Fear is like a tidal wave rolling through my stomach. I shrink down into the seat, ice building along every inch of my skin—and I don’t think.

  I don’t even question my instinct to call Murph.

  It’s my only option. I crave his protective presence more than my next breath.

  He answers on the first ring, his voice like a balm in my ear. “Angelica,” he says in that low, low rasp. “What’s up, kid?”

  I ignore Taryn asking me from the front seat who I’m calling.

  “I’m in danger,” I whisper into the receiver. “I need you. Now.”

  3

  Murph

  It has been an hour since Angelica’s phone call and I’m still fucking shaking, my hands ice cold on the wheel of my truck.

  Danger.

  I’m in danger.

  Her terrified whimper replays in my head, over and over again, insanity threatening to take hold as I break the speed limit up the winding roads of the Hollywood Hills to get to her. It’s been a year. An entire damn year of misery since the last time I saw her, face to face. At least that she knows about. I’ve been to the concerts, watching her from the shadowed edges of so many arenas, I’ve lost count. Lost track of how many times I’ve stroked myself off inside the folds of a trench coat while she shakes her little ass on stage to the screams of thousands.

  The rest of the time, I haven’t been far. At all.

  God knows I’ve tried.

  I’ve told myself to keep as far away from her as possible, accepting jobs all over the country. I always come back to Los Angeles, though. I always come back to where she is, our proximity soothing the suffering beast inside of me.

  Somewhat.

  Now that I’ve touched her, felt her beneath me, there is nothing that will fully soothe me but to be inside of her. That will never happen, however. Ever. So I’ve resigned myself to a lifetime of being deprived of her sweetness.

  Protecting her is what I allow myself.

  When I find out who is putting her in danger, I’m going to burn them alive.

  No one puts Angelica Price in harm’s way. No one.

  How the hell did this happen?

  I breathe down the necks of every member of her security team. I’ve looked into their backgrounds and paid them to keep me informed. They aren’t as qualified as me, but no one is. I demand assurances about her safety several times throughout the day, every day. So I can only assume this danger is a new development. One thing is for goddamn sure, I’m not leaving her side until the issue is resolved and she’s safe again. And that includes from me.

  I take the hairpin turn into her driveway, screeching to a halt outside of her security gate, punching in the code I’ve had memorized since she bought the place. The gates swing open and I whip my truck around the half-circle driveway, throw the vehicle into park and get out.

  When I see the dummy and the words written over the door, my blood turns frigid. It thaws out just as fast, though, the temperature rising to volcanic levels. I’m up the steps and pounding on the front door before I’ve taken a breath, my hands braced on the jamb.

  The manager, Taryn, answers the door. She’s new on the scene, only recently taking over from Angelica’s last manager. No criminal history—of course, I checked. Three times. She recoils slightly at my appearance. Normally I might feel a wave of shame over that reaction. Right now, though, I don’t give a shit about anything but getting to Angelica.

  “Where is she?”

  “I’m sorry.” The redhead draws herself up like she might actually stop me. “Who are you?”

  “Murph?”

  The angelic sound of Angelica’s voice coming from inside the house almost brings me to my knees. Fucking hell, how have I gone an entire year without hearing her say my name? “I’m here, kid.” I step around the woman attempting to block my entrance into the house.

  And here comes the girl that haunts my mind twenty-four hours a day.

  She runs around the corner into the foyer wearing a tiny, pink satin nightgown with nothing underneath. Barefoot. Golden hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. Nipples in spikes and tenting the shiny material. I make a hoarse sound before I can stop myself, my cock pitching a tent behind my fly, heart lodging itself in my throat.

  “Murph,” she says again, moisture flooding her eyes. “You’re really here.”

  My heart pounds out of control. “Of course I am.” That’s when I notice the bandage on her knee and fury rips through me like the slash of a sword. “What happened to your knee? You were hurt?”

  Her bare feet slap on the ground as she barrels toward me, launching herself into my arms, distracting me for a second with her beauty. Christ, how did the most gorgeous girl on the planet manage to get even prettier? I have no earthly idea…but her smell is exactly the same. Vanilla sugar cookies. How many times have I gone into a bakery over the last year just trying to get her scent into my nose? “No. I just tripped,” she sighs into my neck. “It’s nothing.”

  Momentarily reassured, but planning to ask more questions later, I can’t stop myself from sliding my scarred, beat up fingers into her hair. “So.” I swallow hard. “You went and got famous on me, huh?”

  “Yeah. I guess.” There’s something
guarded in her tone that I want to question her about, but I’m conscious of our audience. It’s not only the snooty manager now. Her security team has slowly joined us in the foyer, three out of four of them looking everywhere but at me—Miller, the newest hire, manages to look me in the eye, at least. Plus two fancy-looking young people with clipboards. “Can you stay?” Angelica mumbles into my neck, her legs lifting to hook around my hips. “I already feel better with you here.”

  My blood thickens, most of it heading south. Fuck me. Holding her like this is heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because she fits me so perfectly, her little bare cunt molded to my fly. Hell because I’ve made a vow to myself to keep my hands off her and I’m not breaking it. She asked me for protection. Not for my cock. If she wanted what I’ve got between my legs, she would have called before a full year passed. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re safe.”

  She slumps against me. “Thank you.”

  I grunt, pulling her against me more securely.

  The security team is well acquainted with me. But the rest of the people in the room look horrified over their goddess pop diva boss being cradled by a beast.

  That’s one of the reasons my feelings for Angelica need to stay buried.

  On the impossible chance she wanted to be with me, I won’t have folks looking at her like she’s insane everywhere she goes. And that’s exactly what would happen. Because my big, hulking, scary ass alongside this petite fairy princess isn’t just absurd, it’s a crime against decency.

  Secondly, I can’t betray Joe.

  I’ve barely been able to speak to her father on the phone, let alone look him in the eye, ever since what happened on the floor of his living room. Ever since I dry humped his precious daughter right under his nose and said truly despicable things to her that I can never take back.

  In the interest of keeping our relationship professional, as badly as it pains me, I settle Angelica back onto her feet. Though my heart turns over when she refuses to leave me completely, nestling herself into my side. “Where is the surveillance footage?” I growl at her head of security.

  Goddammit, I should have been the head of her team. If I trusted myself to be around her without putting my blood-stained hands on her, I would have been.

  One of them steps forward and clears his throat. “The perpetrator scaled the fence on the east side of the house, but we only know that because some of the brush was disturbed. They used spray paint to black out the cameras.”

  My stomach churns. This doesn’t sound like some bumbling super fan. It sounds like someone who knows what they’re doing. I do my best not to betray my alarm to Angelica. “Were there shoe prints? Tire tracks left behind?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Sir?” The redhead snorts. “Why are you suddenly reporting to this man now? We don’t even know who he is.”

  “He’s Murph,” Angelica says simply, curling her small hand into mine. “He was in the Navy with my father and I’ve known him forever. He’s also the badass who is going to keep me safe.”

  Pride and determination swarm in my chest. Even after my inexcusable behavior on that night a year ago, she still has total faith in me. I don’t deserve it and I don’t deserve her. But hell if I’m going to let her down. “I’m going to need your contact at the surveillance company, a list of everyone who has been a guest at the house recently. I assume you’ve already called the police to dust for fingerprints?”

  “I don’t want the police,” Angelica whispers. “I only want you.”

  Again, the redhead blusters. “I’m her manager. I make important decisions and we don’t need outside help—”

  “You make decisions about her career. I make them about her safety.” I give her a stony look until she turns and stomps out of the room. “Have you swept the rest of the house?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s clear.”

  I make a sound in my throat, knowing damn well I’ll be doing it again myself to be sure they didn’t miss anything. “Call in additional security immediately. Station them around the house for tonight and we’ll meet in the morning. I want those lists and contacts first thing in the morning.”

  I rattle off my phone number, as if they don’t already have it programmed in their phones. “And if she gets hurt again on your watch, if she so much as chips a goddamn nail on your watch, you won’t like what I do about it.”

  They nod in unison, fleeing the room.

  Angelica looks up at me. “You put them under your command so easily.”

  They’ve been under my command for a year. Not that I’m going to tell her that. It would lead to too many questions. Too many curiosities. If she knew how closely I follow her every move, obsessively checking in with her guards, she would stop thinking of me as her protector and start pitying the unsightly giant who pines day and night for America’s pop music sweetheart.

  It’s only the two of us in the room now and Angelica turns, pressing the front of her sleek body to mine, wrapping her arms around my neck. And as natural as can be, she climbs right up onto me, those world-famous legs cinching around my hips. She has to feel the erection in my pants. There’s no mistaking how much it turns me on just to be in the same room as her. But she doesn’t comment or pull away, probably because she’s so desperate for comfort she’s willing to ignore my lust.

  Hell, she’s a fucking bombshell. Every man with a pulse is turned on by her. It probably doesn’t even register as important anymore.

  My arms close around Angelica and I take a deep inhale of her scent, getting it into my blood. “Which way to your room, kid? I’ll inspect there first and get you settled before I look through the rest of the house.”

  “Up the stairs,” she sighs into my neck. “But…”

  I walk us toward the staircase, savoring the feel of her against me. “What?”

  “I’m just a little spooked.” She pulls back slightly to look me in the eye. “Will you stay in my room with me tonight?”

  More pressure swells into my balls, pushing my hard dick more firmly against the juncture of her thighs. I can’t say no to her. I never could.

  Meaning tonight is going to be pure heaven…and hell.

  4

  Angelica

  Murph.

  My goodness, I knew I missed him, but until he walked into my house I didn’t realize how much. He’s like a lighthouse in a storm and I can’t seem to stop touching him, clinging to his brick-house body for dear life. I know I’m probably driving him crazy. He tried to distance himself from me in the foyer and here I am again, wrapped around him like cellophane.

  Everything in my life seems so superficial. Even the fame itself seems so fleeting, like the mist I watch dissipate from my balcony every morning. Not him, though. He walked in and the ground beneath my feet turned solid. The way he took charge of my security made me feel safe for the first time in a year.

  And my body remembers.

  It’s awake and buzzing, my skin turning hotter with every step we take toward my bedroom. My hallways seem so small with him inside them, his extra-large shadow casting itself on the walls. The steel of his forearm supporting my butt flexes with power, my body curved around his hefty middle, my nose buried in his neck. He smells like man. Not like the men in Los Angeles, but like a real man who has been working on a motor or cleaning his gun or something. I can’t get enough.

  We reach the door of my bedroom and I stop him with a tap on the shoulder, a thrill shimmering through me over having him in my private space. When I lived with my father, he would never come into my room. Only pop his head in and say hello or goodbye. Not this time, though. He’s going to stay with me. He’s not going to leave. He’s not here to visit with my dad. Only me.

  It’s only us.

  What am I expecting, though?

  Not…not a replay of what happened on my father’s living room floor. Right?

  Murph hasn’t been around for a year. Maybe he wasn’t satisfied with what it felt like to touch
me? After all, I basically just lay there gaping like a moron the whole time. I bet he’s used to women who know what they’re doing. Sexy, worldly women. Not naïve girls who know how to dance provocatively, but have no experience or idea how to follow through.

  After a slight hesitation, Murph opens the door to my room and carries me inside, once again setting me down and stepping away, his body language that of someone who is definitely creating boundaries.

  “Stay here and I’ll check everything out,” he says, not so discreetly adjusting his thickened crotch. Am I the cause of that erection? Maybe. But a man as virile as Murph probably has so much testosterone brewing, a feather-light touch can make him ready for sex. For anything.

  “Okay,” I say, sitting down on the edge of my bed. Bottom lip caught between my teeth, I track his movements around my room, watching him check my windows, look in my walk-in closet, do a sweep of my bathroom. That bulge between his legs never wanes…and I start to think wicked thoughts.

  Very wicked thoughts.

  Murph used my body once to relieve himself. Maybe he could do it again?

  Maybe I could tempt him into doing it again?

  Now that we’re in the same room and my body is tingling like crazy, I can’t deny that I’ve been starved for more. For a year. There has been a knot beneath my belly button. I have no idea how to untie it. But my intuition is telling me the answer lies with this man. I might be innocent in a lot of ways, but I’m not a kid anymore, even if that’s what he calls me. There is no reason I can’t try for a replay of what happened that night…but this time I’ll be ready. I’ll participate.

  I might not be what he wants. What he’s used to.

  But dammit, I’m a sex symbol. There has to be a chance I can make him cave.

  “All clear, kid,” he rumbles, shutting off the light in my bathroom and coming out. His gaze sweeps downward over my body and cuts away, a lump lifting up and down in his throat. “I’ll just, uh…” He strides over to the chair positioned by the wall. “I’ll keep watch here, all right? You get some sleep.”