“Speaking of communications.” I pull my own encrypted device from my chest rig.
I tap the screen once to wake it up. I slide it flat across the smooth granite. It stops exactly one inch from her fingers.
“Care to explain this one?”
Her gaze drops to the illuminated screen against her will.
A deep, violent flush creeps up the elegant column of her neck. The crimson stain spreads rapidly across her cheeks.
It is the newly created security group chat. Her message sits there in bright, undeniable green pixels.
I just had one of the best orgasms I’ve had in years masturbating to the images of my three new bodyguards. I honestly don’t know if I want to run away or get on my knees for all three of them.
She stares at the words like they are written in a foreign language.
“I…” She swallows hard. Her throat clicks in the quiet room. “That was meant for my best friend.”
“Clearly.” I don’t break eye contact. I watch the frantic pulse beating wildly at the base of her throat. “But it came directly to us.”
She squares her shoulders. She forces herself to look away from the screen and directly into my eyes.
“It was an absolute mistake.”
“A mistake?” I tilt my head to the side. I let my gaze drop to her lips for a fraction of a second. “Which part? The masturbation, or the sudden urge to get on your knees?”
Her jaw drops.
She snaps her mouth shut a second later. Her eyes narrow into furious slits.
“You are massively stepping out of line, bodyguard.”
“I draw the lines around here.” I plant both hands flat on the counter. I lean directly into her airspace.
“You’re shaking,” I point out. My voice drops to a lethal, vibrating calm.
“I am angry. There is a very distinct difference.”
“You’re terrified.” I push off the counter. I take a slow step around the island, eliminating the barrier completely. “And you’re incredibly turned on. Your nipples are hard against that silk, Principessa.”
She gasps. She crosses her arms tighter, hugging herself defensively. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I take another step. “Like I’m picturing exactly what you look like on your knees?”
“Stop it.” Her voice trembles.
I don’t stop. I walk right up to her.
She backs up. Her bare heels hit the cold marble tile. She keeps retreating until her spine hits the humming stainless steel refrigerator.
I box her in. I plant one heavy, gloved hand on the metal door right beside her head.
I am six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier. I cage her in completely.
She doesn’t cower. She tips her head back to maintain eye contact.
I inhale, the sharp, sweet scent of her arousal punching straight through her expensive perfume. Rose mixed with the raw, heavy musk of a woman who is already soaked and dripping for me. The scent is intoxicating. It makes my cock throb with a vicious, demanding ache against the heavy denim of my jeans.
“I don’t take orders well,” she breathes. Her chest heaves against my tactical rig.