Chapter One #2
“I don’t like him,” I say firmly, turning back to folding my clothes. “Now, clear out of my room and get some rest. We have a long flight to catch tomorrow.”
“Who cares, we’ll be flying in style on the Rossi jet anyway!”
“No whining, everyone out!”
A series of protests and groans echo in the room, but movements follow as they bid me goodnight and leave my bedroom. I don’t release the air I was holding in my lungs until the door shuts, and I am finally alone in my room.
Get a grip, Elena!
Soon, I’ll be done with my PhD in art history, and I can’t afford any distractions over some physical attraction! No more thinking about bodyguards or their muscular bodies and dark cool eyes—
I jump at the knock on the door, clutching my heart as I get to my feet. I open the door expecting to see one of the girls asking to sleep in my room, but my breath catches in my throat when I am met by the large frame of my bodyguard.
Christ, he’s so big.
“Miss Marino,” he says in a deep baritone that sends my heart racing as it always does when he speaks to me.
“Um, hi, hey, what’s up… What’s the matter?” Jesus Christ, Elena! “I mean, is something wrong?”
Amusement seems to dance in his eyes, and I feel my cheeks flush. “We need to review the schedule for the trip home tomorrow,” he says. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“No, sure, I mean, I don’t mind.”
I close my eyes tightly in mortification and move aside to let him in.
I give myself a second, willing my heart to calm down before shutting the door, essentially leaving us alone inside my bedroom.
I realize too late what I’ve done and question if it would be awkward to reopen it now or just leave it closed.
He takes the decision from me when he turns to speak to me.
“The plane leaves at eleven, so we need to be on the yacht by nine,”he says, and I try to focus on his words instead of the way his presence fills the room.
That face…all those angles. Christ, those eyes could tempt a nun. So blue, like the sky on a clear summer day but still, they carry such depth…and secrets. Such heat.
“You’ll have to be up by seven if you don’t want to rush through the morning…”
How can someone look so good in a simple black suit and white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar now, revealing hints of tattoos on his chest. I’ve gotten peeks at those tattoos for weeks, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious what they—what he looks like naked. All those muscles, firm and ridged.
I want him.
“Miss Marino?” My eyes snap to his, flushing when I realize I can’t remember a single thing he just said. My heart jumps to my throat when he arches a single brow, those stunning eyes wiping every thought from my brain. “Are you alright?”
Am I?
I don’t know anymore.
“I’m fine,” I stammer, running a shaky hand over my neck, suddenly hot. “You said we need to be at the airport by seven–”
“Eleven.”
“Oh…right.”
“Are you feeling sick?” He takes a step forward, and a shudder runs through me when he brings the back of his hand to my forehead. “You can’t be drunk. You didn’t have a sip of champagne tonight.”
I bite back a whimper when he brushes hair from my face with fingers that are scarred and calloused. A move that dampens my panties with moisture.
He’s right, I didn’t have a sip of alcohol tonight, but then, why do I feel drunk—lightheaded and achy?
“Maybe I am sick,” I whisper, lifting my eyes back to his. My knees go weak by what I read in those haunted eyes—except they aren’t so haunted now. There’s heat in those eyes. Hunger..
I should look away.
I should step back, put distance between us.
Pretend I don’t notice the way his pupils dilate or how his breathing changes.
Those long fingers still touching my skin definitely shouldn’t send my pulse racing or my breath coming in short pants.
And all those raw emotions on his face—the hunger and desire barely restrained—I should ignore them all.
I want him.
Desperately.
“Elena,” he rasps, seconds before his mouth comes crashing down on mine with a deep groan.
I gasp against his mouth, grabbing onto his jacket when my knees buckle.
The hand on my jaw slides to my back and cradles my nape as his mouth moves over mine gently…
seeking. He holds me in place as he angles his head to the side, his mouth slanting against mine over and over again until I’m flushed all over, trembling in his arms for more.
“Roarke,” I whimper, sliding my hands under the coat and touching that firm body over the shirt. So warm and solid. So strong. “Please.”
I don’t know what the hell I’m asking—begging for. Maybe for this moment to never end. For his lips to stay locked on mine.
It’s wrong.
He’s…wrong for me.
But I want him. Kissing me. Touching the places where I ache the most, relieving the pressure.
Please.
His fingers slide into my hair seconds before he slips his tongue into my mouth, and I groan when it grazes mine. And then he’s kissing me, his breathing labored as his tongue strokes mine. I whimper with need, running my hands over his stomach and chest as he deepens the kiss.
His free hand slides down my body, and I moan into the kiss when his palm kneads my ass, pulling me flush against him until I can feel the hard press of his manhood.
Something snaps in him as he breaks the kiss, and his mouth traces down my throat.
“A chroí,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough with that Irish lilt that makes my knees weak.
“You smell so fucking good. I bet you taste just as delicious.”
I gasp when he nudges me down on the bed. I’ve barely found my bearings when the large man drops to his knees beside the bed.
“Roarke?” I whisper, surprised. He doesn’t seem himself. “W-what are you doing?”
“You’ll like it,”His eyes lock on mine, dark and intense. “Do you trust me, Elena?”
The question hangs in the air between us. My heart pounds, but I nod.
“Good girl,” he rasps, and the praise sends heat flooding through me Kneeling beside the bed, eyes dark with lust, he looks nothing like the man who’s protected me for the past two weeks. He would scare me if my lips weren’t tingling from the kiss. If my body wasn’t trembling for him.
I gasp when he grabs my ankle and pulls me to the edge of the bed, sliding those rough, calloused fingers under my dress and up my bare thighs, leaving a storm of heat behind every caress.
Those heated eyes stay locked on mine when he grabs my panties and slowly tugs them down my thighs and down my legs, then completely off.
“You’ve been tempting me all day,” he growls, leaning forward and pressing his mouth on the side of my left knee, sending a shiver rolling through my body, my core flooding with arousal.
“Do you have any idea how you looked standing on that beach, in this sexy little dress?” His breathing is heavy and hot against my inner thigh.
“Tempting me to take what I’ve been wanting, to taste your sweet little pussy. ”
“I…Roarke…oh God!” I cry out and fall back when I feel his tongue trace my seam, his groan echoing in the room as he teases my folds into opening. “Wait, you…we can’t—”
“Yes, we can. I just want to give you pleasure, a chroi..”
My back arches off the bed with a sob when his tongue grazes my clit. “Oh God!” Tiny volts of electricity shoot through my body, shocking my system.
“You taste better than I ever imagined,” he growls against my flesh and I whimper as he brushes his nose against my slick sex, groaning as he inhales. “So sweet. I can’t wait another minute!”
He runs the flat of his tongue along my sensitive flesh, causing a storm of heat to roll through my belly and spread to the rest of me. I cry out, toes curling and fingers twisting in the covers as he starts to lick my pussy, with hot, hungry strokes.
I’ve read about this. I’ve studied human sexuality from an academic perspective, read papers on physical intimacy and arousal, but no book, no research paper, or article described the storm of heat that rolls through my body.
The need, primal and desperate, as my bodyguard laps at my wetness in the most obscene way.
His beard scratches my inner thighs, his breathing labored and a hungry tongue seeking…
“Oh God!” I sob, thighs trembling against the man’s shoulders as he drags that sinful tongue between my folds, wickedly suckling my clit and stealing air right from my lungs.
I can’t breathe. Or think. Or speak, as the words sputtering out of my mouth are a series of sobs and pleas.
His fingers slide up my stomach, under my dress, and I cry out when he palms my aching breasts, sobbing when those rough digits clamp around a sensitive nipple. I thrash on the bed, fingers tearing at the beddings as my body trembles with the threat of a release so strong it could sink me.
So close.
“Oh God…Roarke!”
I scream out his name as pleasure rips through my belly, causing me to spring up from the bed, violent tremors rolling through my body.
His hand pulls me back in place, that sinful mouth moving hotly over my trembling body, suckling gently at my clit, turning the violent tremors to sparks that have me curling my toes and sobbing, until I can’t take it anymore.
I’m still shaking when he pulls back, gently removing my legs from his shoulders. His chest is heaving and I spot the large bulge in his pants when he straightens up. I reach for him, my hand trembling as I touch his chest, wanting to feel more of him.
He jerks back as if burned. I don’t know what I expect to see when I lift my eyes to his face, but it’s not the sheer horror written on his expression.
“Roarke?
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that!” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, but he’s not looking at me. My heart aches, but before I have time to react, he turns around and storms out, without once glancing back at me.
I slowly tug my dress over my exposed thighs, feeling confused and embarrassed, hating myself a little for losing control over a man. I draw my knees to my chest and bury my face between them, trying and failing to regret my first kiss—one that I just shared with my bodyguard.