Muscle for Hire (14 page)

Rowan snapped her glare to his face. “A crazed fan? A pissed-off friend?”

“Okay, Rowie.” Chris stepped forward and directed her hand—still gripping the ice pack—to the back of her head. “That’s enough.”

“My head doesn’t
hurt
!”

Silenced slammed over the set at her shout. Everyone stared at her. Everyone.

“Let’s go, Rowan.”

It was Aslin’s voice that broke the shocked silence. Calm, but commanding.

She glared up at him, the sight of his unwavering focus on her face sparking jolts of anger in her gut. “Where? Away? So whoever it is who is trying to get at my brother can make another attempt?”

“Rowie—”

“Now, Rowan,” Aslin spoke again, as if she hadn’t uttered a word. He leant forward, wrapped her free hand in a firm grip and pulled her to her feet.

The crowd parted like a wave. Which irritated Rowan more. Since when had Aslin Rhodes become the damn commanding officer of the film set?

“Let me go, Rhodes.”

“Shut it, Hemsworth.” He turned and began walking away, pulling her behind him.

For a split second, the urge to throw herself into a reverse spinning kick and slam her heel into his shoulder stole through her. She curled her fingers into tight fists and tensed.

A heartbeat before Aslin turned to stare straight into her eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

Rowan’s mouth dried at the barely contained menace in his gaze.

Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and continued walking from the set. He didn’t stop, or talk to anyone—including her—until they reached the door of a trailer located next to Chris’s.

Rowan frowned. “Whose trailer is this?”

“Mine.”

His answer was a low growl. He pulled a key from his hip pocket, unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“Yours? Since when do you have a trailer?”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Since one p.m. today.”

And with that terse answer, he crossed the threshold, dragging her behind him.

The interior wasn’t as luxurious or extravagant as Chris’s, nor was there anything to indicate Aslin had spent any time in it. Tiny specks of dust danced on the air, picked out by the sun streaming through the narrow windows lining the walls. Rowan took it all in. “Homey,” she muttered.

“It needs a woman’s touch.”

She snorted at Aslin’s unexpected dry comeback, rubbing her wrist when he released it.

“Sit.”

His one-word command made her spine stiffen. “I’m not a—”

Piercing brown eyes locked on her face. “Sit, Rowan. Now.”

She plopped onto the edge of the nearest seat.

“Good. Now put the ice pack on the back of your head and listen to me.”

She scowled at his order. “Aslin, we should be back on set. Chris—”

“Is fine.” He pulled the door closed and leant against the bench beside it, folding his arms across his massive chest. “After the incident with the red-head yesterday I spoke to the head of security this morning and arranged a bodyguard. Someone I worked with often when Nick did high-risk public appearances in Sydney. Your brother won’t even know Liev’s here, but he’ll be protected. The more pressing matter
I’m
concerned with is who is trying to harm
you
.”

Rowan’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

Aslin’s eye narrowed. “I know you’re in shock from the accident, but I have to be blunt, and for that I’m sorry.”

“In shock?” Rowan shook her head. “I’m not in shock. I’m furious. Someone is targeting my brother and you drag me away?”

“I told you, he’s now well protected. And in my opinion, he isn’t the target.”

“Why would I be the target?”

Aslin levered off the wall and destroyed the small space between them in two strides. He lowered into a deep crouch, drawing his gaze level with hers. “Think about it, Rowan. Chris didn’t sit in that chair once for the duration of the shoot. Not once. You were in it all morning. And again when Nigel called Chris back. And your bag was outside his trailer next to the steps. We both know they were tampered with, and I suspect it was by someone hoping you’d come out to retrieve your bag.”

A cold fist sank into Rowan’s chest and squeezed her heart. She stared at Aslin, her lips tingling. “You’re insane.”

His nostrils flared, the only reaction to her incredulous accusation. “No. I’m worried.”

“About me? Forget it. You don’t have to be. For two reasons. One, your theory is loco, and two, I. Can. Take. Care. Of. Myself.”

Aslin’s jaw bunched. “So you’re ignoring the evidence?”

Rowan threw up her hands. The ice pack in her grip was no longer chilly and she squeezed it tight in an effort not to toss it at the irritating Brit. “I am. Because it’s ridiculous. Now call off your muscle and let me go back to my brother.”

“I can’t do that, Rowan.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Why not? Are you going to give me some macho bullshit reason about me being weak and defenseless and needing someone like you to look after me?”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t do that because of this.”

He snared the hair at the nape of her neck and crushed her lips with his.

She froze. For exactly two heartbeats. And then she slammed her palms into his chest and shoved him backward.

He didn’t land on his ass like she’d hoped. Instead, he recovered with nimble grace to stare down at her.

She looked up at him, her pulse wild, her belly churning. Her lips throbbed from his kiss, as did the junction of her thighs. A wicked, greedy, constricting heat that told her just how quickly and powerfully her body reacted to his. “S-so, you can’t let me go back to Chris because you want to kiss me? Where’s your control, Rhodes?”

“Rowan.” Her name was a low growl on his lips. His jaw bunched at her taunt. “I think someone is trying to hurt you.”

“And that’s why you kissed me?”

He let out a ragged breath and ploughed his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, woman. You’re infuriating. I kissed you because what happened back on set scared the sodding shit out of me. You could have been killed.”

Scared.

The single word tore at Rowan’s senses. She stared at him, her throat so tight she could barely draw breath. She’d only known Aslin for a short time, but she had little doubt nothing scared him.

Until now.

She shook her head. “I can’t believe someone is trying to hurt me.”

“And I can’t believe you refuse to even consider it.”

“Why would I? I haven’t done anything.”

“Except guide Chris, look out for him when others would take advantage of him?”

Rowan snorted. “And you think that’s it? Not the crazy fan you caught this morning trying to get to him?”

“It’s a theory.”

“It’s a stupid one.”

Aslin crossed his massive arms over his massive chest. “I hope so. But my gut tells me otherwise.”

“Then your gut has shit for brains.”

“Thank you, John Cusack.”

Rowan blinked. “How did you know I was quoting a movie?”

It was Aslin’s turn to snort. “I don’t live in a vacuum, Rowan. I do have a life you know.”

“Really? And here I was thinking you just follow a rock star around all the time.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “It pays well. Now I think I might just follow you around all the time.”

She snarled. “Just try it, buster.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve got to do something. You’re too sodding stubborn to listen to reason. At least if I’m tailing you I can protect you from—”

She didn’t let him finish. She leapt from her seat and slammed her shoulder into his gut. He let out a strangled
oof
, his back smashing into the door behind him.

The vibration shook all the way through him into Rowan’s body. She jerked back, preparing to smack her fist into his jaw. Fury roared through her. Hot and encompassing.

“I don’t need to be
protected
,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’m not defenseless. I’m not weak.”

Aslin straightened, and it was as if she’d never barged into him. “No, you’re not weak or defenseless, Rowan. But I’ll be damned if I’ll be that scared again.”

She ground her teeth, her nails driving into her palms. “Then fuck off. Find someone else to play super-soldier around.”

Black fire flared in his dark eyes. “I don’t want someone else.”

“Well, you can’t have me.”

“Bullshit.”

The word sliced through the trailer’s air a second before Aslin snatched her wrist from her side and yanked her to his chest.

His mouth captured hers, savage and brutal. His tongue swiped over her lips, her teeth, stroking her tongue with dominating purpose. The effect on her body was instantaneous. She whimpered. Liquid heat flowed through her core, pooling in her sex. Her nipples hardened until they were twin points of aching need.

He deepened the kiss, taking possession of her mouth and pleasure. She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t fight him. She didn’t want to. Not anymore. Hell could rise up and damn them all, but Rowan wouldn’t care. As long as she was in Aslin’s strong arms, being kissed by him, worshipped by him.

She pressed her palms to his chest—the very place she’d shoved him only a moment ago—and splayed her fingers. The rapid sledgehammer beat of his heart under her hand sent fresh heat to her pussy. The rock-hard tips of his nipples stole her breath. She dragged a thumb over one of them, curious to see what he would do.

“Oh fuck, yes,” he ground out against her mouth, cupping her ass with his hands to haul her hips to his.

The thick, rigid pole of his erection rammed into the curve of her sex. Undeniable. She whimpered her approval and teased his nipple again.

He hissed in a breath, thrusting his hips forward.

Rowan’s pulse quickened. She slid her hands down his torso and her head swam at the sculpted shaped of his abs under her fingers. They were so hard, so defined. The man was the epitome of physical perfection. And she was going to fuck him.

The realization slammed into her like a jolt of exquisite electricity. Her breath caught in her throat, and then she yanked his shirt free of his jeans and slipped her fingers under the hemline.

Oh boy.

His flesh was warm and smooth. His belly hitched at her touch. A raw groan tore from him, his hands squeezing her butt with cruel pressure as she sought out his nipples.

Fine hair dusted the massive expanse of his chest, tickling her fingers, exciting her need. It was rare to find a man with a hairy chest in Hollywood nowadays, and even the professional martial artists she occasionally dated had all fallen under the deluded opinion waxing and manscaping was the only way to go.

She moaned, loving the way the wiry hair felt under her fingertips.

Real. So real. There was nothing fake about him.

Nothing.

She captured a nipple between two fingers and pinched.

His mouth jerked away from hers, another harsh hiss escaping him.

Ducking her head to his chest, she bunched up his shirt, closed her lips around the nipple she’d just squeezed and sucked.

Aslin raked his hands up her back. His hips bucked forward, driving his jeans-trapped shaft against her mound. He groaned, digging his fingers into her shoulders. “Christ, Rowan…”

A shudder wracked his body. He snatched her chin with a strong grip, forcing her upright. His nostrils flared. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Don’t start something you won’t let me finish, Rowan.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you like this again until you told me to. I also promised once you did, I would unleash my control and—”

“Fuck me, Rhodes,” she cut him off, her heart wild, her breath nothing but shallow pants. “N—”

The word
now
never passed her lips. He captured it with his kiss, his tongue silencing her with hungry possession just as he grabbed her ass and spun around.

He slammed her against the door, his knee wedging between her thighs, his hands reaching for the hemline of her shirt. He pulled it up over her head, stripping her of its paltry protection without pausing for a beat. She gasped, liquid want flooding her pussy.

“Christ, Rowan.” His murmur filled the trailer. “You are beautiful.”

He covered her breasts with his hands, rasping his thumbs over the distended points of her nipples. The satin of her bra emphasized the caress and she shivered, gazing up into his face as she reached for his belt buckle.

His stare melded with hers for a split moment, a low groan rumbling in his chest, and then his hands covered her shoulders and he was sliding her bra straps down her arms.

Her breasts fell free immediately. Her nipples—already puckered—grew tighter. Aslin’s nostrils flared at their erect state. He watched his fingers trace the aureole, his knee pressing harder to the junction of her thighs as he did so. She whimpered, arching her back to his gentle exploration.