Chapter 7 #2
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 answers that question.
“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.
He slams his hand against my ass. “Stop that.” My clit throbs. Guess I got my answer, then. He wants me to obey, and my body likes punishment. This kind, anyway.
“That turns me on,” I whisper.
There’s a brief pause before he asks, “What does?”
“When you smack my ass.”
“Of course it does,” he half groans, half sighs. “Lie still, Savannah.”
I obey and lie still. But I have questions. “So what are we supposed to do, not touch each other?”
He groans again.
“Why do you keep groaning?”
At first, he doesn’t respond. When he does, he rolls me over so I can look at him. Oh, God, that was a mistake. If I thought I could control my urges before, it’s impossible now.
Thayer is devastatingly handsome. Bare-chested, I get a full view of his sculpted body, all coiled power and honed muscle, from the breadth of his neck to his powerful shoulders. I reach out to touch him when I realize this is something I need to ask him.
“May I?” I whisper.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, then nods.
My heart races as I reach a hand out to trace the stubble that lines his jaw. I cup his face just to feel the emanating heat, and the roughness of his whiskers. I run a thumb along the fullness of his lips.
“I’m guessing we’re going to be here a while,” I say, giving voice to the thoughts we’re probably both having. “This won’t be one night, will it?”
“I can’t say for sure,” he says quietly. “But if I were to guess, yeah. This will be a while.”
I swallow. “So maybe we should get to know each other a bit more?”
Holding my gaze, he kisses my thumb. My pulse quickens even more. Next, I draw my hand down his neck to his shoulders, feeling the latent power and corded muscle. God, what it would be like to be beneath a man like him, to be overpowered and submitting to him.
“You asked why I keep groaning,” he whispers, as I feel the velveted steel of his arms, his chest, his back, every perfect masculine inch of him. “Because I want to do the right thing. I want to protect you. But you make it impossible.”
I feel my lips turn down in a frown. I watch as his gaze traces the curve of my mouth. My hand rests on his back. I’m afraid to touch anywhere else.
“Why?” I ask. “I’ve done what you told me to.”
I don’t expect him to move as quickly as he does, but the next thing I know, I’m pinned beneath him. He captures my wrists and pins them to the bed as he fully demonstrates just exactly how much control he has over me.
“You don’t know me, Savannah.”
I release a breath. “Maybe I want to. Maybe you don’t know me, either.”
I watch his gaze darken before he shakes his head and whispers, “I want to destroy you.”
That should scare me.
Then why does heat and need throb between my legs? “I want to ravage your body and hurt you. I want to lay you across my lap and spank you. I want to punish you until you cry, then kiss it all better and reward you by making you come for me.”
Oh, my.
“Then why don’t you?” I ask, before I can stop myself. Okay, that didn’t come out the right way.
His deep chuckle unnerves me. There’s something unhinged about it.
“My job is to protect you, Savannah.”
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re definitely not a fucking child,” he says with another one of his groans.
I wriggle my wrists and narrow my eyes. “Then maybe I have a say in this.”
His eyes seem to pierce right through me. My heart beats faster. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head.
“Um, excuse me? Why don’t I?” How does he know what I know and what I don’t?
“Have you ever done anything kinky?”
I try to look away, but he grasps my chin and forces my gaze back to his.
I lick my lips. “No, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious,” I respond.
“I’ve only had lackluster sex, and it was so bad I regretted it.
” I swallow and lick my lips, watching as his eyes follow my tongue.
Even pinned beneath him, overpowered like this, I feel sexy and in control.
“I want to see. I don’t want to hang out around here being the only kid not invited to the party. ”
“Christ,” he curses. Then he nods, as if making up his mind. “So you have a fantasy in your head about what it’s like? I’ll show you what you want. But you’ll see, Savannah.” His eyes flash in warning. “It’s nothing like your romance books make it out to be.”
Well, that stings.
Jerk.
“How do you know I read romance?”
“It’s no secret. We all know you read romance. Nicolette told us.”
I will pay her back for this.
“Then what’s it like?” I ask. “I want to know.”
He studies me for long seconds as if deciding what to do with me. Finally, he shakes his head.
“I can’t answer that. I have to show you. It can be scary and erotic, educational and calming, and pretty much anything you want it to be.” Releasing me, he pushes out of bed. “Don’t move.” Shaking his head, he mutters, as if to himself, “I’m going to hell for this. I am so going to hell for this.”
Why does that excite me?
His boxers are tented in front of him, showcasing a gloriously long and thick hard-on, but he doesn’t seem bothered or embarrassed. My sex clenches.
“Stay there. Lace your fingers together behind your head.”
Uh-oh.