Page 67 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Theora stifled a startled cry as Argos turned her to face the wall, lifting her leg to rest on the backless bench beside them. She caught her hand on the wall, then jerked away from it in disgust.

“Be gentle, Argos,” she warned, wiping her hand on her skirt.

He leveled his cheek with hers, and she found herself biting back another yelp as his large hand wrapped around her throat, with just enough pressure to alert her of his presence…pressure that suddenly made her desperate for what he was about to do. “We both know you don’t want me to be gentle.”

She breathed a swear, her heart fluttering in anticipation. But he was already pushing the hem of her long dress farther up her leg, slow enough that she didn’t miss a moment, and sliding his hand down her panties.

Theora shifted, backing into him, but her ass pressing against things didn’t improve her already fired nerves. She grabbed his hand, her pussy throbbing from his warm fingers against its lips.

Her fingers trembled against his hand, her body begging her to let go.

“Command me to stop at any time.” At his words, his gravelly voice, she felt more wetness gather. He lifted her up by the throat and she moved with him to keep her breath…though part of her craved the full, possessive pressure of his hand.

Theora let out a breath of laughter that broke into a nervous swear, desire and stubborn will battling each other to make her voice tremble.

He was her husband, after all. Technically. For now. There shouldn’t have been any shame in him touching her. Besides, this wasn’t personal, solely duty. It wasn’t like he’d ever made sexual advances on her before—he couldn’t, really, until she accepted his trophy, and that was never going to happen. He felt nothing, just like always. He was just good at his job. And she felt nothing for him…right?

…Right, Theora?

He separated her hot lips with his fingers and she shifted, arching her back slightly to let him in. She inhaled sharply as he pressed his finger inside her, stealing her wetness, but this time she couldn’t stop him.

Sovereign…she didn’t want to stop him.

This didn’t feel like duty…it felt like an amorous caress, all her nerves coming alive in every corner he touched. He drew circles on her clit and she whimpered, closing her eyes, her steady breaths gradually becoming shallow. She bit back a small cry, fighting to keep herself quiet.

He smelled soft, as contradictory as that seemed, like her vanilla soap and chamomile room spray. At the same time, the heat of his body filled her with a sharp adrenaline, like the rush after a good workout. It was an addictive, oddly soothing sensation that made her want to lick his skin, bite him just to get closer, make him hers—and the frustration that he held her steady by the neck and she couldn’t turn to do so only increased her want.

…What a bizarre thought.

“Slower,” she gasped, then froze, shocked by her own command. But Argos was excellent at taking direction, and her body melted against his, her shock lost to her senses.

She let out a primal moan, but as soon as she slapped her hand over her mouth, Argos took hold of her wrist and pinned it to the wall before them. “Argos,” she begged—for what, she couldn’t even remember. She shifted forward, forgetting about decorum completely to lean her forehead against the wall as her husband’s protective heat pressed in behind her.

“There she is,” he praised in her ear.

And from there, Theora couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried, her cries climbing along with her nerves to the peak.

This wasn’t sex, was it? Not in the word’s common use, anyway. She shouldn’t have been enjoying it so much. But his hand felt so good against her. She wanted that hand against her every day. She wanted to wake up to it, like a ritual. She wanted it hiding under her skirt at the breakfast table, like a game.

But more than anything, she realized, she wanted it to mean something more than just Honor.

She wanted twenty more minutes of this. An hour. A lifetime. But all too quickly, a cry tore out of her as she felt the release, a sound she’d never heard from herself before that echoed off the water and stone. She grabbed hold of Argos as another spasm went through her, her knees threatening to buckle. He held her steady for a moment. All she could hear was her quick pants, feel his warm breath against the back of her neck.

Kiss me, Argos, she wanted to beg, I don’t want this to end.

Instead, he laid his jacket on the bench before easing her down to sit on it. She closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against the wall as she struggled to catch her breath, gain composure. It seemed impossible with her legs still shaking as they were, her undergarments soaked through, her pussy throbbing and pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own.

Sovereign reigns…She’d never imagined anything like that was even possible. To come so hard that way…She’d clearly never had a real orgasm before, if that was how it was supposed to feel.

When she opened her eyes all she could see was her husband—literally, as he stood close, ready to steady her if need be. All she could see was the bulge pressing against the fabric of his pants.

But she only saw it for a moment before he tilted her chin up to look at him. He gave her their loving salute, lingering on her bottom lip.

Sovereign. He must have wiped them off, but his fingers smelled of her, still. Like every little intimate fold he’d explored. It disturbed her as much as excited her. She had an irrational urge to take his fingers into her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, dying to ask for it. She shifted her hips, pressing her thighs together to hold herself back.

At her movement, her husband’s gaze flicked over her.

“You want more?” he asked, a deep, quiet growl that threatened to undo her all over again.