Page 26 of Savage Guardian

He stared at her, reading the emotions as they wrote themselves across her face. She was lying…at least partly. Shehadwanted quiet, to be alone, but it had not been preceded by the need to take a piss. Something drove her from the bar, and he was going to find out what.

Or who.

Clicking his tongue, he pasted on the smile that made every other woman on the planet set fire to their panties. He wasn’t so sure it would work with her…but what would it hurt? For some reason, it mattered to him thatshewas upset about something. He wanted to fix it, if he could. His DNA was comprised of the genetic makeup of generations of warriors—Celtic and Nordic—and the urge to protect Fae was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Even for Carrie. For the Aoibheal he’d met in that hotel room. The Aoibheal that was twisting and mixing him up inside and out, and he wasstilltrying to get both his heads straight—the one on his neck and the one in his pants.

It doesn’t help that you’ve spent all day with Carrie, harmlessly flirting but keeping your hands off, and are now with Fae, desperately trying not to drag her peachy ass to your club bedroom to fuck her through the mattress.

“Fae, that’s bullshit. I know something happened at the bar, and it wasn’t the urge to piss,” he prodded.

She bit back her words, her nostrils flaring, and there was the terribly delightful, angry fire in her eyes. Like honey oak embers, soaked in aged bourbon, and set ablaze.

God, he wanted to kiss that anger right from her body, drawing it into his body to drown it in his desire. Like he was drowning.

“Stop me,” he growled, leaning forward to wrap his hand around the back of her neck. He pulled her toward him, and she didn’t fight it. She melted into him, her chest moving in quick, gasping movements.

“Stop you from what?” she whispered, her breath hot against his face. She smelled of vanilla and the whisky she’d drunk at the bar.

He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, the need to pull away and take control of the situation was not as great a need as the one to drag her into his arms, take her mouth with his, and spend the rest of the night licking, nibbling, and pleasuring every inch of her thick, luscious body.

“Never mind, I won’t stop now,” he snarled, then crashed his mouth into hers.

With one hand still cradling the back of her neck, he slid the other to her hips, pulling her close enough for him to feel the hardness of her nipples against the hard, flat plane of his chest. Their heartbeats were in sync and frenetic.

Her lips were as plump as vine-ripened nectarines, soft, sweet.

Instantly, he was addicted. If he could only taste one thing his whole life, it would be her.

He groaned, slanting his head to press harder, nipping her bottom lip, and running his seeking tongue over the seam of her mouth. She grunted, then gasped, opening for him like the locked door to a treasure trove. Her hands trembling, she linked them behind his head, as if to hold him in place.

Fuck that, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Slipping his tongue inside, they both moaned at the sensation of hot, wet flesh against hot, wet flesh. Damn, she was more than sweet. She was a divination—kissing her was like calling down the blessings of the gods. Even better than he could have ever imagined, and he was a manwhore, he could imagine a lot. His cock swelling, he couldn’t help but imagine how delicious her pussy tasted. Would her cunt be as sweet and lush as her mouth, juicy and swollen and aching for his tongue?

Deepening the kiss, he felt her hands drop from his neck to grip tight to his shoulders, where she held on with her nails, digging in. The pain speared through him, right to his dick. The urge to throw her on her back on the couch, rip her clothes off, and pound into her was so strong, he had to loosen his grip on her hip in order to cup his own dick and squeeze. The pain-pleasure of it helped him draw back the ferocious longing enough to leash the beast from snapping and snarling at him to claim her utterly.

More than anything, in that moment, he wanted to know what it would feel like to be inside her, having her intimate heat wrapped around his hard, thrusting cock.

Take it. Take her—

The sound of pounding boots struck at him, breaking the haze of hot, aching need their kiss had stroked. Now, grudgingly aware of where he was, and what he was doing withwho, he tore himself away from Fae’s mouth.

Dazed, her whisky eyes clouded with desire, Fae gasped when the door swung open.

Twisting away from him, Fae jumped to her feet, nearly colliding with Grimm as he stormed into the room, his gaze immediately taking in the situation. The Irish fucker.

“You seen Trouble?” he inquired, still watching Hawk and Fae with far too much interest in his expression.

Alert and wary, his cock immediately deflating in the face of the interrupting Irishman, Hawk rose from the couch, looking toward a suddenly tense Fae. He moved to get between the ginger hulk and the smaller woman, the instinct to protect her—even from one of his brothers—making him move.

“Last I heard, he was headed to the Herb Garden to check the progress on the planting,” Hawk answered, his body strung tight. “Toke is excited about the new strain they’re adding to the rotation.”

Grimm flicked his gaze from Hawk to Fae, a smirk curling his lips.

“What’cha got here, brother? She doesn’t look like your usual pussy flavor.”

Fae gasped, making Grimm’s grin triple in size. The asshole lived for shock value.

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