I down the rest of the glass and set it down before moving towards my security system on the wall to disarm it, slip on my outdoor slippers, and move out the front door before I can stop myself. I don’t feel nervous walking out here alone despite it being almost two in the morning; my gate is securely monitored twenty-four-seven as is the gate wrapped around the entire community. I’m a few steps from Damian’s door when it flies open and his piercing blue eyes that are darker than usual land on me.

  Eyes that are confused. Angry. Maybe something else.

  My gaze drops down on instinct because fuuuuuck he’s wearing gray sweatpants and it’s doing little to nothing to hide what’s beneath them. My eyes dart away quickly and into his which are narrowed at me. He’s close enough for me to smell him and he smells so fucking good. I don’t detect any cologne, it’s just his natural essence which I don’t know how to describe as anything other than just raw sex.

  “What are you doing out of the house at two in the morning, Shay?” I’m pulled from the thoughts of how to get his scent ingrained in my skin by his biting tone.

  “I—”

  “When I set the alarm that means there shouldn’t be anyone entering or leaving,” he interrupts.

  “I disarmed it,” I say guiltily, feeling like I’m being scolded. “I’m not a prisoner, Damian. I can come and go as I please, you know.” I cross my arms over my chest defiantly and briefly scold myself for not changing into something that showed a little more skin. The sweater shows off my stomach but my tits and my legs are some of my best features and neither of them are on display.

  “You told me you weren’t leaving.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Then what are you doing here?” He crosses his own arms over his chest allowing me to see a hint of his tattoo just over his bicep. I know he has quite a few all over his body. A beautiful and intricately designed compass on his chest, a wolf on his arm, a lion on his back, and a cross with some initials on his upper arm that I’ve been too nervous to ever ask who they’re for in case it’s related to a painful memory. The words Dum vita est, spes est are on his forearm which I researched after I first saw them and it means, while there is life, there is hope, and several others scattered over his body.

  Realizing that this isn’t happening the way I envisioned it, I opt for the truth. “Well, Veronica and Derek are breaking the rules of their arrangement and I can hear it. So, I…was wondering if you were awake and if I could hang out here for a little bit. Jeremy left,” I tell him, though I’m sure he’s already aware of that. He narrows his eyes at me like he’s not totally buying what I’m selling so I continue. “Can I come in?”

  I can tell he wants to protest but he steps to the side and lets me in before slowly shutting the door behind him.

  “We need to get something straight, Shay,” he says and I already know he’s about to call me out for attempting to seduce him. Part of what makes Damian so good at his job is his ability to read a situation very quickly, so I’m sure he’s figured out why I’m really here. Besides the fact that I’ve got noise-canceling headphones that I could use to drown out the sounds of Veronica and Derek, I’m a heavy sleeper who can sleep through most anything, especially after I’ve been drinking. Two facts that Damian is well aware of.

  I turn around to face him and he’s standing in front of the door, taking up most of the space with his large frame.

  “Okay?” I tuck a wavy hair behind my ear and take a deep breath when something I hadn’t noticed when I first entered the guesthouse hits me in the face. I turn my head to the side, scrunching my nose as I try to make sense of what I’ve noticed when the words leave my mouth before he can speak. “Did you have a woman here tonight?” There isn’t a rule that he can’t have a woman over and he does have days off, so I suppose he could have a girlfriend or a fuck-buddy, but I assumed I would know that. Yet, I smell perfume. It’s fresh like someone was just here and I showered after the pool and didn’t put…wait…

  “No.” He grunts and he takes a step closer to me. “Shay—”

  “It smells like…me? What I wear.” I put my nose to my wrist, wondering if maybe I’d absentmindedly sprayed some, but I only smell my moisturizer and the scent of the toner I’d used on my face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells me. “There hasn’t been a woman here tonight, and you shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not going down this road again with you, Shay.” He stomps past me and I spin in a circle to follow him with my eyes as he moves into the kitchen area. His large television, which takes up most of the wall, is still on and I can see he’s watching Sports Center. A glass of whiskey is sitting on the coffee table in front of the dark gray sectional couch I’d custom ordered when I designed this room. I didn’t originally have a television quite so big but he switched it to this one once he moved in. Men.

  “What…road?” I ask.

  “The road where you,” he swallows, leaning against the refrigerator, “try to tempt me.”

  My sex clenches at his words like they have a direct line to it. “I didn’t realize—”

  He cuts me off with a look. “I’m a red-blooded man, Shay, and even the most disciplined man has his limits.” My heart begins to beat faster because he’s never said anything like this to me before. “And now you’re—” He stops and clears his throat. “You should go.”

  I feel a flash of cold and then hot made worse by all of the clothes I’m wearing. It makes me want to shed them all. “I’m what?”

  “Feeling vulnerable because of Paxton and you trust me and I get that but I can’t fill that void, Shay.”

  “This isn’t about that.” I correct him. It isn’t?

  “Oh?”

  “There’s always been something here. The way you look at me…” I remember Veronica’s words about how he looks at me and her ongoing theory that he has feelings for me. “I’m not the only one that’s noticed.”

  When he rubs a hand over his jaw and looks away from me, I notice a slight pink tint in his cheeks. I wonder if he’s embarrassed that I’m calling him out or if it’s the alcohol catching up with him. “Looking isn’t touching, Shay.”

  “So, you admit you’re looking, and that you want to…” I whisper, “touch.”

  “No.” His voice is deep and gravelly and again has a direct line to the space between my legs that throbs for attention, reminding me why I came over here in the first place.

  I take a step closer and drag my index finger along the dining table as I make my way around it to get closer to him. “You’re telling me, as disciplined as you are, that you wouldn’t be able to separate your job from…” I bite my bottom lip and raise an eyebrow, “something else you could do for me?” I’m now in the kitchen with him and I don’t even attempt to hide the way my eyes move slowly down his body to his groin and back up. I move closer and when he makes no effort to move, I wonder if I’ve got him. “It must be tough. Finding someone to…take care of things.”

  His eyes trace my face and down my body and part of me wants to take off my sweater to expose my sheer red lacy bra but I worry that might kill the moment we’re in.

  He doesn’t respond to my statement so I continue.

  “Has it been very long?” There’s still about three feet between us and I inch slightly closer to him. He doesn’t respond again. “It’s been a minute for me.” I bite my lip. “Six weeks or so. Even longer if we’re talking about…if it was really good.” I chuckle and I hate that it makes me feel inadequate. Like it was my fault that Paxton never made my orgasms a priority like I made his.

  His jaw ticks and he narrows his gaze. “He didn’t make it good for you?” Something that looks like concern flashes in his blue eyes and it makes my toes curl. As if he could somehow protect me sexually the way he protects me physically.

  “It wasn’t usually his main concern in bed. I mean don’t get me wrong, there were times I did but—”

  “Every time.” He grunts and the two words hang in the air like what I hope to be a promise.

  “What?” I ask, desperately needing clarification.

  “A woman needs to come every time.” My heart picks up speed again listening to him talk about a woman’s climax. “Preferably before I do.” He shrugs. “And after.” A spark shoots through me and congregates between my legs. It begins to throb in time with my racing heart.

  “Oh.” I let out a breath, the alcohol and this conversation making my skin prickle and my cunt get slicker with each passing second. “You didn’t say how long it’s been for you.”

  “A while.” He stares at me, and then, just when I think he’s going to take a step closer to me, he breaks our gaze and moves to his living area to pick up his glass of whiskey. He drains the entire contents before slamming it down on the coffee table so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break. I jump at the noise and then he’s moving back towards me fast, crossing every line he’s drawn between us, and on instinct, I take a few steps back until I feel his kitchen counter at my lower back.

  “I would make you come every. Fucking. Time,” he whispers and my sex clenches at his words and at how close he’s standing. We’re about as close as two people can get without touching as he peers down at me.

  I drag my eyes over the hard planes of his chest and his arms, willing him closer, willing his hands to touch me, his arms to wrap around me. There are so few times I remember him touching me and I only recall his arms around me twice. Both times occurred the week my parents died so there wasn’t anything to those touches besides sympathy and comfort.

  I draw in a short breath trying to stifle the moan sitting in the back of my throat. “How?”

  “How would I make you come?” I nod, words escaping me and a smile pulls at his lips. “Well, that depends.”

  I swallow. “On?”

  He shrugs. “What you want first.”

  “First?” I whisper. “Touch me.” This whole time I’ve been here, through this entire erotic dance he hasn’t touched me once and I’m ready to jump out of my skin. “You never touch me.”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  It’s as if his words click and suddenly, I’m wondering if Veronica’s theory isn’t totally off base. “Because you want to.”

  His index finger starts at my wrist and drags up my arm to my shoulder leaving goosebumps in its wake. Then he takes another step closer so he’s right against me. My breasts are pressed against his torso and I angle my head to look up at him. His other hand finds my hip, tracing up before dragging his finger across my stomach, circling my navel lightly and I feel like I’d sell my soul to the devil in this moment to feel his hand drag over my pussy in the same way. His touch is so light, and yet, I’m hyper-aware of every place he’s touched in the past two minutes. “I can’t…touch you out there.” He motions towards the door and I nod in understanding.

  “Can…I touch you?” He nods once and I run my hands up his torso and his chest, rubbing him with both hands. I drag my hands up his abs, feeling each one of the hard ridges. “I want to come…” My buzz is starting to wear off and my boldness leaves with it but the high of this space with Damian fuels me. I’m high on this and him and his scent and the way he’s looking at me and the fact that he’s still got his hand on my hip, gripping me tightly. “On your tongue.” And then I remember some men don’t do that and while Paxton did, it wasn’t that often. Certainly not as often as I did. I bite my lip but hold his gaze. “I mean…if you do that kind of thing.”

  His eyes haven’t left mine as he raises his hand higher and rubs the skin just beneath my breast. “I do that kind of thing.”

  Fuck. Me.

  His hand drops from under my sweater and finds the waistband of my leggings. He pulls them gently before letting them snap against my skin and I whimper. “Damian, don’t tease me.”

  “Oh? You mean the way you’ve been teasing me the past five years?”

  A smile tugs at my lips at his playfulness. “I didn’t…think you noticed.”

  His hands drag up the sides of my body, sliding up the slope of my neck and then his thumb drags across my bottom lip, dipping slightly into my mouth. “I fucking noticed, Shay.” His thumb falls from my lip and then his head is moving slowly towards mine. I reach up on my toes to meet him halfway and just before our lips touch, Damian’s phone beeps just as I hear the sound of a door slamming. It breaks the sensual haze we are in and we both snap our gazes towards the interruptions.

  I hear the distant sound of Veronica yelling just as Damian pulls his phone from his pocket. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls, storming towards the door. I scurry behind him but he turns around to glare at me. “No.”

  “What do you mean no?” I ask. “If something is wrong with Veronica…”

  “You and I both know she and Derek just got into a drunken argument. So no, you do not need to go out there. You stay here,” he says and I can hear the implication. How would we explain this?

  I watch from the window as Damian walks outside and Veronica looks at him, points at Derek, and makes a motion with her hands that is probably along the lines of we’re through.

  For tonight, I automatically think and mentally curse my best friend and her fuck-buddy slash boyfriend for being on their usual bullshit and ruining everything Damian and I were working towards. Especially since they’ll be fine in two days, if not tomorrow.

  Derek and Damian talk for a few moments before I see one of Derek’s security’s cars. He gets in and heads down my long driveway. I’m waiting for my phone to beep with a text from Veronica, and I suppose I should probably go back to the main house before she realizes I’m not there.

  Damian comes back in and lets out a sigh. “Who knows what they’re even arguing about.” He waves me over. “Let’s go, I’ll walk you back.”

  “But—”

  “No.” He pins me with a glare. “This…I let things get too far, and I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “This is why I like to keep lines clear and I don’t drink and I certainly don’t need you here.” He points around the guesthouse.

  “So that’s it? I understand that maybe with Veronica here it isn’t the best idea but…not…ever?”

  He takes a deep breath and looks around the room avoiding my gaze. “No.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, let’s go.” He stands at the open door waiting for me to leave.

  “Damian—”

  “Shay,” he barks and I frown at the tone he’s taking with me. Especially after everything that’s transpired here. I feel humiliated and rejected, and his attitude towards me like this is all my fault is not helping. I move towards the door, my eyes narrowed at him because now I’m fucking pissed. He grabs my elbow, keeping me in place. “I’m sorry.” His tone is soft and they match his eyes that seem as sorrowful as his words.

  I shut the door behind me and stand in front of it. “Don’t make me leave.”

  He puts his hands over his eyes. “What are you going to do about Veronica?”

  “If she hasn’t texted me by now, she’s probably asleep.”

  “It’s too risky,” he argues.

  “So? Don’t you ever take risks?” I counter.

  “When it comes to you? No.”

  I don’t know why the words warm me but they do, and I feel them in my chest and between my legs as they wrap around me. “Tell me this isn’t over.”

  He sighs. “I don’t know, Shay.”

  I swallow and take a step closer to him, running my hand up his torso again and then back down, allowing it to graze over his groin twice. My knuckles drag down his shaft and then I place my palm flat against his dick that’s slightly hard and I squeeze. “Are you sure?”

  His nostrils flare and then he’s pushed me against the door, his arms on either side of me, his face a mere inch from mine and I wonder why he hasn’t kissed me yet. “Next time you touch my dick, it’s going in your mouth.” He takes a step back and I struggle to breathe after having him in my space. He shrugs cockily. “If you do that kind of thing,” he says repeating my words back to me.

  I open the door behind me, realizing my best game plan is to keep him wanting more and maybe not while Veronica is sleeping over. “Oh, I do all kinds of things.” I give him a wicked smirk before I’m out the door without another look back, despite the fact that I know he’s right behind me.

  Me: Can we go for a run?

  Damian: Of course, when will you be ready?

  Me: 20 minutes?

  Damian: So, by that you mean 35?

  Me: *middle finger emoji*

  Damian: I’ll be ready in 20.

  I really don’t want to go for a run but I do want to parade around Damian in tight spandex shorts and a sports bra. I’m still buzzing from the events of last night. My skin tingles from where he touched me, and the spaces where he alluded to touching me ache with the thought of him there.

  Goddamn, he is so fine.

  “Next time you touch my dick it’s going in your mouth.” I squeeze my eyes shut thinking about the delicious orgasm I gave myself last night when I got back to my room. I was wound up so tight by my night with Damian that I was ready to come the second I glided my finger over my clit. I didn’t even need my vibrator.

  Okay, I did use it after, but it only helped marginally. At this point, I don’t think I’m going to know true relief until Damian Hunt is between my legs.

  “I do that kind of thing.” My mind remembers. In reference to my pussy. Him eating it.

  I wave a hand over my face trying to calm myself and my pussy down. I pull on the pale purple spandex shorts and sports bra that matches because this color makes my skin glow and the shorts make my ass look fantastic.

  And Damian runs behind me so…

  I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, grateful for the natural wave it’s sporting today from my curls from yesterday. I put on a headband to keep any stray hairs out of my face and protect my edges and grab my phone and my AirPods. Sometimes I run in silence, but I feel like music today to drown out the roaring thoughts of wanting my bodyguard to fuck me until I don’t know my own name.