The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Thirty-Six

S he was going to be mine.

Withdrawing my hand from her bikini, I brushed my wet finger across her lips, then tilted her head back and slammed my mouth over hers.

Pussy, chlorine, desire.

I could’ve taken her right there.

But her son was in the room.

Releasing her, I reached around her for the juice and two bottles of water. “Come and eat.” I shut the fridge.

Her forehead fell to the closed door, and her hands splayed out against the white surface. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispered as a tremor went up her back.

Picking up the plates, I smiled.

“Oh no,” she pointed at me. “You don’t get to smile right now. Not after doing that to me.”

I kept smiling. “What did I do?”

She glanced at the couch and her son, who was half asleep. “You know damn well what you did.”

Walking past her with the plates, waters and juice, I brushed my lips against her cheek. “Come and eat.”

Her hand went to where I’d kissed her. “You don’t want to do that,” she warned as I sat down next to the boy.

“Do what?” Setting the plates on the coffee table, I held up a water and the bottle of juice in front of her son, then raised an eyebrow.

He pointed sleepily at the juice.

“Feed a six-year-old on a white couch,” she answered.

I smiled at the boy and opened the juice, handing it to him. I knew he would prefer it over water.

Smiling back, he sat up and signed thank you before taking it and drinking half. Then he pointed at his plate. Is that mine?

Yes , I answered . Cheese sandwich and fruit okay?

He clapped his hands once. Yum!

I put his plate on his lap and took my own before glancing over my shoulder. “Coming?”

Still standing by the island in her sexy-as-hell bikini, she stared at us for a moment, then shook her head as if to clear it before glancing nervously at the dining table. “He really should eat at the table.”

Leveraging my tone and my gaze, I tested her. “Come sit down, Mercy.”

She didn’t even hesitate. She came and sat. But then, because she was aptly named, she gave me attitude. “Don’t think for one second just because I came and sat down, I was doing what you said or that you can order me around. I’m hungry, and I’m not going to be rude to my host. If you want to eat on your white couches with a six-year-old, then fine. That’s all on you.”

I set her plate on her lap and brought my mouth to her ear. “Later, when you’re under me submitting, I’m going to make you come so hard.”

Goose bumps raced across her neck. Breathing heavier, she said nothing.

I kissed her neck once. “Eat.”

With a shaking hand, she picked up her sandwich. Then, with a tremor in her voice, she gave as good as she got. “You’re still going to get crumbs on your couch, Mr. Vos.”

I glanced at her son.

His eyes glued to the TV, he had a juice mustache, a lap full of crumbs and a piece of watermelon dripping from his hand.

I didn’t give a single fuck.

“Growing up, I never had a couch to eat on.” Or a TV I was allowed to watch cartoons on.

She turned to look at me.

Leaning back, I put my feet on the coffee table and took a bite of my sandwich.

Sorrow filled her eyes. “Preston.”

“Eat, Mercy.” I didn’t want her sympathy.

“Did you—”

“Eat,” I warned. But then I put an arm around her shoulders.

She settled into me and picked up her sandwich.

I waited till she took a bite. “Now you know the first thing about me.”

Chewing, swallowing, she contemplated. Then she took a sip of her water. “I know two things, actually.”

Sinking my hand into her thick hair, I sifted my fingers through the soft strands, but I didn’t engage. I waited.

She leaned her head back to look up at me, and half her mouth tipped up. “You cook almost as well as you kiss.”

I gave her the half smile back. “I fuck even better.”