Page 64 of Her Remarkable Protector

“But you don’t even know me,” I protest, my voice wavering.

His gaze holds. “Exactly. Because I don’t know you. And I want to. I want to be the man you let in. Sometimes, you don’t need reasons—you just trust your gut. And my gut tells me it’s you, Honor.”

I can’t look away. His words, his conviction, climb over what’s left of my resistance.

“So, you want to be my gentle giant?” I tease, my fingers brushing over his arm, strong and hard beneath my touch.

“Is that what you want me to be?” he asks, a faint smile brushes his expression.

“What else is on offer?” I challenge, and that’s all it takes.

His lips crash against mine, the kiss fierce and visceral. I’m not a woman in love, but I sure am on fire. He holds me as though he’s afraid I’ll slip away, and in that moment, I feel both consumed and grounded.

I haven’t forgottenwhathe is. But thewho he isstarts to take over me. The man he is—the one who protects, who stays, who sees me—that man is taking over everything I thought I knew.

My lips still fused to his, I unbutton my shirt. I press myself forward, hungry for contact. My breasts spill out of my bra, compressing against his steel-hard pecs.

He pulls back, his breath uneven. “What do you want from me, Honor?”

“For you to want me.”

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he murmurs, plumping my breasts until both nipples protrude out of the cups. “It kills me to think that I’ll never have you.”

“This is your moment—take it. All of me, just for tonight,” I moan.

He squeezes my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples. The energy flows downward in a prickly rush. It’s just the start, but I’m already speeding toward a high.

As if irritated by the restless fabric of my open shirt, he yanks it free, all urgency and no finesse—impatience winning out over elegance. Then he tugs his sweater over his head, the material straining as if it might rip apart any second.

“I don’t hold back, Honor.”

“Did I ask you to?” I counter.

The metallic click of his loose buckle is almost as thrilling as the stripping. Then his bare legs hold my attention. I still can’t get over the sheer size of his thighs, imagining the power behind them when they pump. Not iron—me.

He grips the waistband of my jeans and pulls me against him. His arms circle me, reaching my back to unclasp my bra.

My breasts burst out. Their weight and the tightness deliver a clear message:ready. Inside, they tingle with needs, spurred by the taste of his earlier touch.

“Honor…you’re going to kill me,” he groans.

“So, whether you have me or you don’t, you die anyway?” I tease.

“Something like that.”

Apparently, even in the afterlife, his appetite is indestructible. He feasts on me, his lips nibbling my nipple one by one, his hands digging into the flesh. My breasts react, like clay hardening in a kiln. He hisses, handling them more roughly as if sensing it too.

“You’re too easily turned on,” he comments. “Let’s hope that works in our favor.”

With a shove, he sends me sprawling back onto the bed, as if eager to uncover the answer—and me, as he scoops up my ass and pulls my jeans off. His hand slips under the string of my panties, driving them down my legs in an unbroken motion.

I stop him from doing the same to his own underwear. He flashes me a look of disapproval but ultimately concedes when my foot drop onto his groin, toes dancing around his swollen testicles, then climbing to massage his shaft.

I curl my toes, hooking the elastic band. It stretches, revealing his pubic hair. I pull it down, inch by inch, until the base of his shaft comes into view.

Holy Montana…

Finishing the stripping is proven beyond the capability of my foot, thanks to his out-of-control bulge. So my hand comes into the party, and I’m there. His well sculpted cock springs out—long, hard, solid, painfully stretched. I kiss it, suck it, lick it like I’ve never known a man before.

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