Page 140 of The Bodyguard Situation

Her head rolls back against the mattress, lips parted, eyes glassy and wild. “Don’t you even think about stopping.”

I shift her legs up, folding them toward her chest so I can go deeper, harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room like a goddamn rhythm. Her guttural groans only encourage me to fuck her harder.

“You wanted to taste me on your knees?” I pant, thrusting deep enough to make her cry out. “Now I’m going to fuck you until you’re a Calloway.”

“Yes. Yes, please?—”

Her voice breaks on the last word as I slam into her again, her breath catching with every stroke. I reach between us, rubbing her clit in tight, punishing circles that make her body jerk beneath me. She’s already so close again. I can feel it in the way she trembles, the way her thighs start to shake, how her pussy clenches, like she’s trying to drag me in deeper than I can go.

“You’re going to come again,” I order, voice feral. “On my cock.”

Her eyes roll back, her lips parting in a silent scream as her body seizes around me, orgasm tearing through her like a lightning strike. She spasms beneath me, sobbing my name, her pussy milking me so tight that it takes everything I have not to come with her.

I grab her hips and flip her over before the last wave even finishes, dragging her up onto her knees, her ass in the air, back arched like a fucking dream. I slide back into her from behind, gripping her hair as I drive into her again.

“Look at you. So fucking beautiful,” I growl in her ear. “And completely wrecked for me.”

“Only for you,” she chokes out. “Only ever for you.”

I thrust into her again, and again, and again, until I feel the pressure in my balls, in every fucking nerve in my body. She’s tight, soaked, clutching me with every pulse, and I know I can’t last much longer. I’m barely holding on.

“Come inside me. I want all of it,” she gasps, holding the comforter with tight fists.

My whole body locks as I thrust deep and come with a roar, emptying into her in thick, hot waves. My cock twitches inside her as I ride it out, breath ragged, muscles burning. We collapse onto the bed together, tangled and heaving. Her body is pressed against mine, both of us slick with sweat, shaking with aftershocks. I bury my face in her hair and wrap my arm tight around her waist.

“Harp,” I whisper, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

She laughs, satisfied, snuggling closer. She looks into my eyes and grins. “At least you’ll die happy.”

She’s not wrong.

* * *

By the timewe return to Manhattan, everything feels louder.

Even the air is hotter, more humid, like the city’s already gearing up to test our patience this summer. The Charger glides into the private garage beneath my building, but I barely register the motion. Harper’s next to me in the passenger seat, hair curled over one shoulder, sunglasses on despite the overcast sky, legs crossed like she doesn’t realize how much she’s ruined me.

She’s wearing the ring that was always meant to be hers. It’s an oval spark of forever that holds more sentiment than any diamond ring I could’ve created for her. I catch her twisting it now and then, like she’s making sure it’s still there. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how fucking beautiful she is without even trying.

Tonight, Asher is throwing a get-together—part cocktail party, part networking trap, part power play—but underneath it all, it’s just his way of making sure people don’t forget how he can ruin them if he wants. It’s private. Exclusive. A cashmere-and-caviar kind of night. Everyone who’s anyone will be there, except Easton and Lexi.

Easton texted me earlier, saying Lexi will deliver their triplets any day now and she’s on bed rest until the babies come. We’re all pretending not to hover, but the truth is, none of us are more than one text away. If Lexi sneezes twice in a row, Easton will put the entire Calloway family on lockdown.

I reach for Harper’s hand, leading her into the elevator. She’s wearing a black satin dress, with a scandalous little thigh slit, and no back. She wore it just for me and knows exactly what seeing her so dressed up does to my self-control.

I lean in close, whispering in her ear, “If you’re trying to make it impossible for me to focus tonight, you’re doing a great fucking job.”

“I am,” she says boldly.

She kisses the edge of my jaw just as the elevator opens, and we step into Asher’s townhome that’s an entire building. And just like that, the temperature shifts.

People are everywhere—men in tailored suits and shiny shoes, women in heels that could kill a man if they were aimed in the right direction. Waitstaff move around the large floor with trays of champagne and charcuterie. Music hums from invisible speakers, just enough to let people talk without revealing too much. The last time I was here, Weston proposed to Carlee, and it feels like a lifetime has passed since then.

I spot Billie and Asher near the bar area. My cousin is wearing a midnight-blue gown, and Asher’s hand is possessively resting on the small of her back, like he dares anyone to look twice. She lifts her glass when she sees us, her mouth twisting up into something that says she’s ready to stir trouble.

Harper squeezes my hand. “Ready for this?”

I glance at her ring, then back up at her eyes. “I’ve already got everything I want.”

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