Page 42 of Vengeful Guard

I let out a breath through my nostrils, trying to calm myself.

Feck.

I pull back, and Paige huffs out a breath, focusing, punching again, and this time, it’s weaker.

“Keep your momentum. Keep that wide stance, and then try to move your leg forward as you punch.”

She goes back to the wrong stance again, and I grunt, spreading her thighs with one of my own again without even thinking about it. Or maybe I am thinking about it, somewhere in the back of my head. Maybe I’m thinking about what those thighs would look like spread out in front of me. Beneath me.

Paige gasps out a little moan, and I wait for her to push me away.

I’m growing hard against her hip, and I know she can feel it, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Little princess,” I murmur in her ear. “You all pent up?”

She doesn’t answer, but she rocks her hips back against me, and I work my thigh between her legs, pressing it up to put pressure where I know she needs it.

God, she is so hot through the fabric. Searing me through the sweats.

Paige rocks her hips awkwardly, and I hold her hips in my hands, moving her back and forth, flexing my thigh to give her more pressure.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I certainly shouldn’t be so diamond-hard in my sweats that I can barely stand myself.

But she’s eager, rocking her hips as I move her, grinding down against me, little moans coming out of the back of her throat in a rumble.

“Oh, god.” The tremble in her voice does something to me.

Then she rocks forward, letting out a low cry, and I know that she’s arrived at her peak.

As soon as she starts to breathe out through her mouth, coming down, guilt and panic wash over me.

What the hell am I doing?

Of course, there’s some part of me that’s beating on my chest as an animal at being the one to give her pleasure. She’s beautiful, her curves won’t quit, but...

She’s Paige Burke. Declan Burke’s little sister. Patrick Burke’s daughter. And I just made her come on my thigh.

I wrench away from her, putting my hands up.

“Maybe we need to set some boundaries.” I rub a hand over my mouth, which has gone dry.

Paige turns, frowning. “What do you mean, boundaries?”

“I shouldn’t be touching you so much. You’ve got to work on your stance, but I... I crossed a line.”

Her cheeks flush pink, lips parted.

God, I want to run my tongue through those fluffy pillows, take her mouth, own it.

She looks away, and thank god, because the fog in my head clears, and I can focus on anything else but kissing her again.

“Okay.” She looks at the floor. “Boundaries.”

“I don’t touch you more than I have to. And when we spar, it’s only punching.” I pause, trying to lighten things up a bit. “Above the belt.”

She smiles slightly at that, and I feel a little less guilty.

She enjoyed it, right? It’s not like I’m taking advantage of her. She’s twenty-seven, not a teenager anymore, as much as that would make things much easier now.

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