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Blake's hand connected with Savannah's ass once more, the sound echoing in the dim room. He could see her body trembling as the tension built inside her, her knuckles white as she gripped the chair.
"Blake . . . I . . ." she panted, struggling to form words. Her hips bucked against his hand, a desperate plea for more.
"Tell me what you want, Savannah," he demanded, his voice rough with need. “You want to use your safeword? You want me to stop?”
"No. Don’t stop. More . . . please," she whispered, and he complied, his strikes growing harder and faster. The air filled with their heavy breathing and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh.
As Blake continued, something unexpected happened—Savannah let out a cry that was part pleasure, part surprise, and then she shuddered violently, a slick wetness dripping down her thighs.
She had just fucking orgasmed.
Oh my fucking god.
"Shit," he gasped, stepping back and staring at her quivering form. Her body still trembled as she rode the waves of pleasure. He hadn't expected that—hadn't intended for it to go that far. But there had been something so raw and primal about her reaction that it left him panting with desire.
"Blake," Savannah whispered, turning to face him. Her eyes were wide, searching his own for reassurance, validation. "What just . . . what does this mean?"
He hesitated, his gaze darting away from hers as he tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside him. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice strained. "I didn't plan for this to happen."
"Me neither," she murmured, biting her lip. "But it felt good. So good. Does that make me . . . strange?"
"No," he said firmly, looking back into her eyes. "You're not strange, Savannah. We're just exploring new territory here. Together."
"Together," she repeated, her voice soft and vulnerable. "So . . . this doesn't change anything between us? You’re still my bodyguard? We’re still on a mission?"
Blake nodded. "We still have a job to do, and we're going to see it through."
"Okay," she whispered, nodding slowly. "Thank you. For everything." She looked down at Blake’s groin. “Is there anything I can do for you now? In return?”
Blake clenched his jaw, the scent of their mingled arousal heavy in the air. It was a dangerous cocktail, clouding his judgment and thickening his cock so intensely it was almost painful.
"Leave," he growled, his voice barely controlled. "I need a moment."
"Blake, I—" Savannah's eyes widened at his sudden harshness, but he cut her off.
"Please, Savannah. Just . . . go."
She hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face before she nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Alone, Blake let out a ragged breath and ran a hand through his hair. His heart pounded in his chest, a part of him yearning to chase after her, to pull her back into his arms. To sink his erection deep between her reddened cheeks.
But another part—the part that had spent years honing discipline and focus—raged against the unexpected attraction. It was too messy. Too distracting. Too dangerous.
"Get it together, Marks," he muttered, pacing the room. But right now, he didn’t know whether to jerk off or smash his fist into a wall.
In fact, he did know. He only had one option.
He smashed his fist into the wall.
Pain shot through his knuckles as his hand made contact with the brickwork.
Shit. It had been a long time since he’d punched the goddamn wall. Not since Chloe died.
What was happening to him?
Chapter ten
SAVANNAH
