He moves.
It happens so fast I barely have time to register the motion before he's on me. One moment there's space between us—air and possibility and the kind of tension that crackles like electricity—and the next his arm is around my throat. A chokehold. Not tight enough to hurt, not tight enough to actually restrict my breathing, but firm enough that I know I couldn't break free if I tried.
Control. This is control. Restrained power. The same deliberate precision I remember from the self-defense class, except now it's being used to hold me in place rather than teach me to escape.
My back is against his chest. I can feel every inch of him—the hard planes of muscle, the heat radiating through his suit, the steady thump of his heartbeat against my shoulder blade. His scent surrounds me completely now, smoked leather and woods and saffron wrapping around me like a second skin.
And before I can think—before I can process or plan or do anything remotely sensible—his free hand cups my jaw, tilts my head back, and his mouth crashes down onto mine.
The kiss is?—
Oh.
Oh God.
The kiss isperfect. Electrifying. The kind of first kiss that ruins you for all other first kisses, because nothing will ever compare to this specific moment. His lips are firm but not harsh, demanding but not taking—he's kissing me like he's asking a question and already knows the answer, like he's been thinking about doing this since the moment we made eye contact.
My brain short-circuits. Completely. All the careful walls I've built, all the armor I've been wearing, all the ice queen bullshit I've been projecting—it all dissolves like sugar in hot water. There's nothing left but sensation: the pressure of his mouth, the taste of him (whiskey and something sweet), the way his grip on my jaw is possessive and gentle at the same time.
I should push him away. I should use the self-defense techniques he literally taught me to break this hold and demand an explanation. I should be furious that he's touched me without explicit permission, that he's trapped me against him like I'm something to be claimed.
Instead, I melt.
My body goes soft against his, pliant, surrendering to the kiss in a way I've never surrendered to anyone. A small sound escapes me—something between a gasp and a moan—and I feel his arm tighten around my throat in response. Not restricting. Claiming. Like my reaction pleases him, like he wants to pull more of those sounds from my lips.
The kiss deepens. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him without hesitation, letting him in, letting him take. He tastes like expensive whiskey and dark chocolate and something uniquelyhimthat I want to memorize. My hands—useless, trembling things that they are—find his forearm where it crosses my chest and hold on like he's the only thing keeping me from floating away.
This is insane. This is absolutely insane. I'm being kissed senseless in a bathroom by a man I barely know, at an event I didn't want to attend, wearing a knife strapped to my thigh that I've completely forgotten exists.
And I don't want it to stop.
I've been kissed before. By Alphas who thought they owned me, by men who saw me as a commodity, by dates who were technically skilled but left me feeling nothing. I've been kissed in ways that were meant to dominate, to claim, to prove a point rather than share a moment.
This is different.
This is being ravished by someone who's paying attention. Someone who adjusts the pressure of his mouth when I gasp, who changes the angle when I lean into him, who kisses melike he's memorizing every response for future reference. It's overwhelming and perfect and absolutely devastating in ways I wasn't prepared for.
This is the first Alpha I've truly enjoyed being ravished by.
CHAPTER 6
Bodyguard With Benefits
~TANK~
My lips are firmly on hers, and I am absolutely, completely, irrevocably fucked.
I'm devouring this woman like she's the best meal my mouth has ever had the privilege of tasting—and honestly, that comparison doesn't even do her justice. She tastes like dark cherries and expensive wine and something uniquelyherthat I already know I'm going to be chasing for the rest of my goddamn life. Her lips are soft against mine, pliant, surrendering in a way that makes my Alpha instincts sit up and howl.
Focus, Terrance. You're supposed to be protecting her, not making out with her in a bathroom like a horny teenager.
But focusing is difficult—damn near impossible—when the omega in my arms is melting against me like butter on a hot skillet, making these soft little sounds that are doing dangerous things to my self-control.
This wasn't the plan. The plan was surveillance. Observation. Keep an eye on the target, make sure no one makes a move on her, report back to Julian with whatever intel I gathered.Simple. Straightforward. The kind of job I could do in my sleep after fifteen years of military service and another five in private security.
Nowhere in the plan did it saykiss her senseless in the ladies' room.
And yet here we are.
