Page 46 of Her Remarkable Protector

Chase stares at me—apologetic, embarrassed, lost.

“I’m desperate.” I defiantly sit on the edge of the bed, unconcerned that my dress shirt rides up.

“Well…” he says without finishing his sentence.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.” Truly, this baby-induced insomnia is hitting me full force now—it’s worse than being drunk or drugged.

I cross my legs, exposing just about all of my thighs, a challenge to his patience while making it crystal clear he shouldn’t test mine.

He steps closer, warming up. “What kind of help are you after, Honor?”

I lean back, my arms braced behind me on the mattress for support. He gulps, perhaps still scared I might actually take him up on the offer.

“Whatever it takes.” The words come out raw, a quiet cry wrapped in resolve. And I mean it.Whatever it takes.

I recline on the mattress as he approaches the bed. There’s a moment of hesitation, but he finds something in me that boosts his confidence. It’s clear to anyone that I’ve willingly surrendered myself to his mercy.

“So you weren’t playing,” he rasps, the hunger in his eyes unrestrained, his voice unreserved.

My legs fidget restlessly, and Chase wastes no time in parting them.

“Are you sure, Honor?” His fingers linger tantalizingly close to the crotch of my panties.

“Chase, just do it. Please!” I implore, the plea burning on my tongue.

He springs into action with an underhand grip on my ass cheek. I’m his playground now.

His beard brushes against the skin of my inner thighs, prompting me to release a long breath. His hands glide along the sides of my legs, a motion as if he’s smoothing silk.

The void in my world, barren of closeness, makes itself painfully known. It’s only a touch, how can it feel so divine?

Who needs meditation? Whatever Chase is doing to me, I feel unmoored, as if control has been ripped away entirely. Just this one time, I’ll allow it to happen. After all, as the alpha’s favorite lioness, I deserve some privileges.

16

CHASE

Is this really her? Am I really here with Honor Deveraux? The woman who unnerved me the moment I saw her photo. The woman I once planned to address as ‘Ms. Deveraux’ forever, keeping things strictly client-bodyguard.

Now my hand is removing her panties, taking my time to admire her folds, relishing in her scent. While I do so, her smooth, toned thighs cradle my head, her body heat rising to me. My tongue begins to trace circles around her clit.

“Yes. There,” she sighs.

They say every man has his own pet spots on a woman’s body. Mine? I never have it, until now. Her folds and the nub of her clit are capable of rendering a man hopeless. But it’s the apex of her thighs that undoes me. My every move, every friction it creates, cause her to respond. Desperate. Visceral.

Her fingers weave through my hair, toying with the strands before pressing against my scalp. “Chase.”

The call, along with the steady stream of her arousal, convince me that she’s mine.MyHuckleberry. Even if only for now.

How did I get so damn lucky to be this close to her? Tasting her? Sure, maybe I’m just doing her a favor. She needs sleep, and once again, I’ve become her ‘when all else fails’ guy. But in the most honorable way. She wouldn’t have asked me on a whim. She wanted this—needed it—more than my desire to be something beyond just her bodyguard.

And as for Lady Huckleberry? She’s done keeping her distance. The only battle now is the one against her orgasm. The tentative move of her pelvis lays bare her struggle to decide whether to let go or to extend her pleasure.

“What do you want me to do, Honor?” I rasp.

“Keep going!” she demands, though her voice lacks the strength to match the authority she’s reaching for. Still, I don’t hesitate. That’s what a man does—he listens to his woman.

“Harder.” Her faltering whisper seems at odds with the urgency of her plea.

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