His fingers slide up my stomach, under my dress, and I cry out when he palms my aching breasts, sobbing when those rough digits clamp around a sensitive nipple. I thrash on the bed, fingers tearing at the beddings as my body trembles with the threat of a release so strong it could sink me.
So close.
“Oh God…Roarke!”
I scream out his name as pleasure rips through my belly, causing me to spring up from the bed, violent tremors rolling through my body. His hand pulls me back in place, that sinful mouth moving hotly over my trembling body, suckling gently at my clit, turning the violent tremors to sparks that have me curling my toes and sobbing, until I can’t take it anymore.
I’m still shaking when he pulls back, gently removing my legs from his shoulders. His chest is heaving and I spot the large bulge in his pants when he straightens up. I reach for him, my hand trembling as I touch his chest, wanting to feel more of him.
He jerks back as if burned. I don’t know what I expect to see when I lift my eyes to his face, but it’s not the sheer horror written on his expression.
“Roarke?
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that!” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, but he’s not looking at me. My heart aches, but before I have time to react, he turns around and storms out, without once glancing back at me.
I slowly tug my dress over my exposed thighs, feeling confused and embarrassed, hating myself a little for losing control over a man. I draw my knees to my chest and bury my face between them, trying and failing to regret my first kiss—one that I just shared with my bodyguard.
Chapter Two
Roarke
I shouldn’t have touched her.
It’s a rule I drill into the heads of every man who works for me. The clients are off limits, before and after a job. Getting involved with a client messes with your head and your mission, and I just broke that rule. I didn’t just break it—I jackhammered through that wall and crushed the bricks to dust so that there’s no sealing it up again.
Christ, I didn’t just touch her. No, I kissed her, then proceeded to devour her pussy like a sex-depraved maniac. A client I was hired to protect. Fuck, I’m twelve years older than her twenty-two and should know better than to allow myself to get involved with someone that much younger than me, but I can’t help it. I’m breaking my own rules for her.
No, the fact is, I’ve wanted this girl from the moment I saw her picture. More so when I met her for the first time. Something about those pretty, naive blue-green eyes called to the beast in me to protect her.
To make her mine!
She could ruin my life and business with one word. A business that my father built long before I was born could be destroyed by my fucking inability to keep my hands to myself. There is just too much on the line for me to act so recklessly. O’Shea Protection Services started in Ireland before my family moved to the States when I was still a boy. For decades, the company has maintained an ironclad reputation, and my father hoped it would stay that way when he turned the company over to my siblings and me to run.
Tonight, I might have destroyed our reputation by touching Elena Marino, the sister-in-law to a fucking mob boss. But I couldn’t not touch her. Not when she was staring at me like she wanted me to kiss her breathless.
I crossed a line tonight. But Christ if I don’t want to cross more.
I want her. Still.
I don’t deserve her.
My heart pounds when I walk out. My throbbing cock presses hard against my fly, begging me to walk back in there and make that girl mine, but I’ve already crossed too many lines tonight. I take a walk along the beach, hoping to clear my head and wait for my erection to go down.
When that doesn’t work, I head back to my room and take a cold shower but I’m still as hard as a rock when I slip into bed. My balls ache fiercely, and it only gets worse when I close my eyes.
“Fuck!” I curse when the image of a pretty woman in a soft blue dress flashes in my mind. That long, chocolate brown hair falling down her shoulders. The perfect swell of her breasts outlined in that dress and those eyes… Christ, those seafoameyes searching mine. That mouth so responsive against mine, the taste of her…a drug.
That voice, soft and pure.
Roarke.
My breath comes in short pants as I slide my hand into my sweats, need clawing at my skin. Need for that reckless girl who should know better than to tease a beast. Fuck, now that I’ve tasted her, I want more. I want to kiss that mouth, explore the skin beneath her dress, and worship her perfect body.
Protect her from the world.
Mine!
“A chroí,” I groan as I stroke my cock, picturing those soft hands on me instead.A chroi. My heart. That’s what she is, even if doesn’t know it yet. Not knowing Gaelic means I can keep this secret. Even if I have no right to claim her that way.
