Page 97 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“Arthur!” I locked my arms around him and pressed my mouth to his shoulder to muffle my scream. Two strokes later, he followed me over the edge, slamming home and holding himself deep as he came, tangling my name with a curse. He pulsed and pulsed, his whole body shaking with it, until he was spent.

He stayed buried until the aftershocks released us both. He collapsed onto his left side and drew me with him, his arm draped across my waist. My leg remained hooked around his hips, his cock softening deep in me as we lay face-to-face without moving.

The heater clicked in the little room. The light buzzed above us. My heart kept racing, his heartbeat matching mine as the sweat cooled on my skin.

You just slept with your bodyguard in a black site in rural France.

Not a black site. A safe house. Somewhere you’re safe.

In his arms.

He traced a lazy line down my spine, and I nestled against his chest. He kissed my hair and breathed me in. The scent of sandalwood was gone. Without any of his bags, he wouldn’t smell like that until we found somewhere that sold his cologne.

And we needed clean clothes.

Although sleeping naked would save them for the night.

“Arthur?”

“Get some sleep, Gwen.” He held me snug against him as though sleep itself wouldn’t make him let go.

Words hovered on my tongue and slipped away. Or maybe they didn’t need saying. Maybe lying here, spent and boneless, with his arm around me and his heartbeat under my cheek, was enough.

He withdrew and dealt with the condom with more grace than I would have been capable of at this hour. A half-second later, he returned to bed and pulled me close, resuming his lazy strokes along my spine. His breathing deepened. And between one breath and the next, the world went dark.

Chapter 30

Arthur

Gwen was asleep against my chest, her leg hooked over mine and her breath warm on my collarbone. The harsh fluorescent light remained on because neither of us had gotten up to do anything about it. At some point during the night, we must have thrown off the thin sheet, leaving her gorgeous naked body uncovered beside me.

My ribs ached under her weight. The butterfly strips on my forearm pulled when I shifted, and my knuckles throbbed. Everything hurt.

And every part of my body wanted to stay exactly where it was.

My father’s voice whispered in my ear, right on cue: Emotional connections are dangerous.

He hadn’t used the actual words, but the message had underscored every single day of my thirty-five years. He’d shown it in every calculated handshake, every public performance with my mother, and every fake smile he tried to pass off as love.

Gwen stirred, her fingers twitching against my chest. She’d wake up soon.

I couldn’t be here when she did. Not like this. Not naked, not holding her, and sure as hell not lying in a bed where I’d fucked her.

Fucked her? Was that really what happened last night?

I’d slept with plenty of women, but this was… it was fucking different. I’d wanted to stay wrapped around her. Not because I’d blown my load and needed a nap, but because some foreign thing had lodged deep in my chest.

It was not right.

That feeling was going to screw everything up.

So I slid my arm out from under her, inch by inch. She groaned and rolled toward the warm spot I’d left, while I stood there, unable to move. The foreign thing in my chest nudged me back to the bed.

That’s your dick, Penn.

But was it? Or was it something else?

Check the perimeter.