Page 56 of Vengeful Guard

Being this close to Paige after weeks of not getting laid is giving me ideas I should not be having.

But feck me if that body of hers wasn’t made for sin.

My body reacts, same it has done since she came on my thigh.

This calls for drastic measures. A cold shower should help calm me enough that I can then exercise.

I head to the bathroom in my bedroom and get naked, opening the freezing water and immediately jumping under the jets.

My body cools down, yes, but my cock doesn’t.

Paige plagues me. She’s living rent-free inside my head, and there is nothing I can do about it. And the worst part is my body doesn’t get the memo that she’s off limits.

No matter how hard I try, the image of her undulating herself on me is burned in my eyelids, my brain cells, my soul.

I try to think of Darla, of any of the girls in the club, any other girls at all, but they all become one.

Paige.

Feck.

I go on automatic, trying to close off my mind and just do my thing, but as soon as I’m soaped up, my hand trails down my abdomen, grasping myself at the base.

I brace myself with one hand against the wall, pumping my fist and thinking about how Paige’s ass jiggled when she was climbing those stairs, how she rolled her hips against my thigh.

God, she’d been so soft and warm, and I know how hot she is, how beautifully she came apart on my thigh.

“Paige,” I gasp when I come, and that’s bad fucking news.

Any other time and any other girl, I would be running out that door and never looking at her again. This is a disaster waiting to happen.

But this is Paige. My assignment. My best friend’s sister. My boss’s daughter.

Her life is in danger. I can’t just leave her. I don’t trust anyone else to protect her.

As much as I’m willing to give my life for hers, I should stay away from her. I need to stay as far away from her as possible, but my job is to stay on her ass. Her juicy, gorgeous ass.

What the feck am I going to do?

I take a breath and dress in a simple pair of basketball shorts, foregoing a shirt.

I’ve noticed Paige checking me out. It’s more than clear she likes the way I look, and as petty as that might seem, I want her to be as revved up as I am.

I can’t be the only one hurting and wanting someone I can’t ever have. It’s only fair.

I go down to the basement, wrapping my knuckles and just going completely feral on the bag. I punch left, then right, then a flurry, never giving the bag a rest.

I get lost in my movements, everything else falling away. The world is me and this bag and all the pent-up frustration I have to unleash upon it.

What feels like seconds, but my body claims it’s hours, later I’m so into it that when Paige clears her throat behind me, I jump and turn around, breathing hard, arms up, ready to defend myself from a non-existent attacker.

I’m sweating profusely, so I grab my towel and dry some of my sweat with it.

Paige’s eyes move up and down my body, and it’s all I can do not to smirk at her.

“See something you like, princess?” The smirk I was avoiding spreads across my face before I can stop it.

She wrinkles her nose. “No. Also, ew, you’re all sweaty.”

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