“What is it?”
“If you do everything for me,” I ask, as a touch of unease washes through me, “doesn’t that make me like a child?” I shake my head, unsure of any of this.
“Not at all. You’ll always have full autonomy. You can walk away at any moment.” I can hear the implication in his tone.But you won’t want to.
How much of this is “practice” and how much of this is because he wants to do this with me?
Can I trust Thayer?
He’s the one Nicolette sent me to. He’s my brother-in-law’s brother...
Would Nicolette send me to Thayer if he can’t be trusted?
Does she know what this place is?
We stand so close I can feel his breath on my skin. The raw, powerful masculine scent he wears makes me want to run my hands all along his hardened muscles and the flat, solid planes of his stomach.
I’m not sure that’s allowed.
What would it take for him to allow it?
I’m not sure the wordallowever crossed my mind when it came to men, but with him… it’s almost instinctual. I know before he tells me that permission and rules will play heavily into whatever it is we’re going to do.
“For now, we need sleep,” he says, still holding my gaze. Wordlessly, he traces his fingertip along the bridge of my nose, across the outline of my lips, down the length of my jaw. The places he touches feel electrified.
“Sleep,” I repeat with a nod. The backs of my eyelids feel so heavy, I know I need sleep, but it’s hard to reconcile my need to rest with the thrilling curiosity vibrating through my body. “Are you going to sleep, too?” I have this strange suspicion he’s going to work while I sleep, or sit and watch me, and I don’t know how I feel about that. The other reason I ask is because there’s only one bed in this room.
“Yeah, baby,” he says softly, his voice gritty with exhaustion. “I’m going to sleep, too. C’mere.”
He curses harshly under his breath, almost as if he’s angry.
I’m so tired, I can hardly hear him, but it sounds as if he says, “Why do you have to be so perfect?” I look down at myself, a little bemused.
Is that really what I heard? Perfect?Me?
Somehow, he’s got the satin pajamas in his hands. Somehow, I end up in his lap as we sit on the edge of the bed. He pulls the shorts on slowly, the soft material gliding over my skin with ease. It’s so comfortable it feels like the height of luxury. Next, the tank.
“Get under the covers,” he orders. He folds the corner of the bed down as I climb in, my body craving the comfort and rest I need so badly. I sink gratefully onto the pillows, my eyes already closed. I sigh contentedly. This bed feels as if it were made for a queen.
I’m dimly aware of water running in the bathroom. Lights dimming. A rustle as he changes out of his clothes. The bed beside me sinking a little when he climbs in beside me.
So much has gone on today, I wonder if I’ll have a hard time letting it all go, but when I feel the comforting warmth of his body next to mine, I find it easier than I thought.
The heavy weight of his arm strewn over my body. My back against his chest, he curls his strong body around me so I’m cocooned in his warmth and strength. I’m struck with the irony—the very night I resist having a bodyguard assigned to me, I end up taken into the custody of a man who will master me and guard me more intensely than any bodyguard ever would.
I like the warm feel of his skin against mine. I like the feel of his body next to mine. His strong length curls beside me, spooning me from behind.
My breathing begins to slow. The excitement he built earlier begins to ebb, still present but muted under the weight of sleep. He whispers something to me, but I can’t hear him. I’m already halfway to sleep. Seconds later, I’m dead asleep.
I turn over in the middle of the night and press my body to his back, my arm over him. It feels right and natural to curl up against him, like we’re born to sleep in the same bed. I listen for his heavy breathing while I’m falling back into sleep myself. Maybe he never fully sleeps. Maybe he’s always on alert.
I wake the next morning long after the sun’s risen. Thayer’s still beside me. In the early morning hours, I turned back over, and he resumed his place at my back with his arms locking me in. Our legs are entwined. I blink, wondering if he’s awake, when the hard length of his cock presses up against my ass and answersthatquestion.
“Do guys get hard when they sleep?”
At first his only answer is a groan, before he nuzzles my hair and inhales.
Energized and rested, I’m feeling a bit more curious. I wriggle my ass against his crotch to see what he does.
