I grin as he marches me inside the cabin, locking the door behind us. He pauses in the living area to throw another log into the fire where Monty promptly flops down onto the rug in front of it. Then he pulls me along behind him toward his bedroom and I have to rush to keep up with his large strides.
I shouldn’t even call it his room anymore. It’s ours. I’ve been sleeping in here with him every night since what happened between us. I wake up cocooned inside his giant arms while he sleeps beside me with his gun beneath his pillow.
It’s funny how quickly you can get used to something like that.
And now I make full use of the huge erection he wakes up with every morning. This morning when he opened his eyes, I was already sinking down onto it. I know he was awake long before I straddled him. This is Denver. He wakes from the slightest sound, always on high alert. But he pretended to be asleep as I trailed kisses over his chest and jerked him off before climbing on top of him. I love that he lets me be in control sometimes. Because most of the time he’s on top of me, huge and powerful between my thighs as he makes me come over and over. And I love that, just like I loved when he flipped me over after I’d ridden him for a bit and thrust into me from behind, his giant hands curling around my hips as he told me to come for him. Just like that,“Come for me, Princess.”And I did.
I always do.
He turns and faces me as we enter the room. I bite my lip, my nipples already pebbling against my vest. I hope he sucks themagain when we get in the shower. Drinks the water off them like he did yesterday, groaning about my taste and how he can’t get enough. I loved feeling the vibration of his growl travel over my skin when he had his mouth on me.
I reach down to peel my vest off, but his gaze has dropped to my sneakers. I follow it, finding him scowling at my undone laces.
“You know, at the funeral, you looked at my shoes the same way you’re doing now. It’s obvious you hate these sneakers, and you looked like you wanted to throw my heels I wore to Ashton’s gallery show in the trash too. Do you have an aversion to all footwear, or just mine?” I tease.
“Just yours,” he says, his attention still on my feet.
“Oh.”
He drops to one knee by my feet and lifts my foot, pulling my sneaker off. I place one hand on his shoulder for balance so he can remove the other. He looks so serious as he rubs my foot before placing it down onto the carpet.
“Are they that bad?” I ask, confused. The sneakers were a gift from Gucci after a shoot I did with them. I think they’re pretty.
“The laces come undone too much. I don’t like anything that could hurt you.”
His face is so serious as he looks from my sneakers back to my feet.
“Even back when it was the funeral?” I ask. It’s more than two years since my stilettos sank in that mud and almost made me fall over. Sometimes the grief makes it feel like only yesterday. But Denver wouldn’t remember it as clear as I do, surely.
He runs his strong fingers over my ankle, massaging it.
“Even back then?” I ask again.
He looks up and holds my eyes. “Always.”
My breath hitches as he stands.
“Do you think everything I’ve done for you has been because it’s my job?”
“Well, I was… I mean, I am your client.”
“No.” The sharp cut of his jaw catches the light as he says that one word so softly I almost miss it.
“No?”
“You mistake me choosing to do things for you because I want to, for me being at your beck and call because it’s my duty. I could have stopped and treated you like any other client.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Because you’ve never been just a client and I think you know that.”
“Ever?” I ask.
He looks away, shaking his head with an exhale like he can’t believe I just asked him that.
I’m stunned. I know things have changed between us since he became my bodyguard. But he’s talking about before. He’s talking about all the years he’s worked with my father, barely looking my way, hardly ever speaking to me. All those silent car rides when he had no choice to pick me up because Sullivan or my father had asked him to.
“Then what was I? Before we came here, I mean. Who was I to you?”
