Page 14 of My Shifty Bodyguard

She gasps. “You were there. You saw me. You let me face a bear alone; you didn’t even run over to scare him off. I did that by myself, because you let me.”

“I never doubted you,” I say simply. “Not for a second.”

She chews her lower lip. “So sometimes fated mates give each other a little freedom. A little room to run.”

I stiffen where I stand. “So you know?”

“Yes. I know.” She steps closer. “And I’m not putting any pressure on you. You don’t have to make a commitment to me. You can do what you want.” Her voice drops, her breath brushing my jaw. “And I’m going to do what I want. Right now? I want to do this.”

Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me, her soft lips parting, inviting me in.

Something snaps in my spine. I don’t move, for one long heartbeat. I just feel. Her warmth. Her softness. The quiet exhale she makes when our mouths fit together like they were carved to match.

And then I respond.

My hands find her waist almost without my permission, gripping, pulling her the last few inches until she’s flush against me. Her kiss deepens immediately, greedy and sweet at the same time.

She tastes like cold March air and adrenaline.

Her fingers curl into my shirt, tugging, anchoring herself to me, and I’m gone—completely, stupidly gone. My entire body lights up, every nerve ending singing the same truth:

Mate.

Mine.

I kiss her back harder before I even realize I’m doing it, my mouth moving against hers with a hunger I’ve been barely holding together since the day I met her. Her lips part on a surprised gasp and that’s it. I’m lost, drowning in the sweetness of her, the certainty of her.

When I finally tear myself away, it’s because if I don’t, I’ll take her straight to my bed and seal the bond right here, right now, and I need to know that she’s ready. That she wants it too.

Her eyes flutter open, wide and dazed and beautiful.

“More,” she murmurs.

“You’re sure?” I growl.

“Dax! Stop treating me like I’m a porcelain doll.”

I’m not sure how we make it to my bedroom, just that one moment we’re in the living room, and the next my back hits the doorframe because she’s kissing me again and the world tilts.

My room is spare but warm: cedar walls, thick quilts in deep forest colors, a wide window cracked open to the cool March air. The breeze carries the scent of damp earth and early dogwood blossoms. It brushes over our skin, lifts the edge of her hair, makes her look wild and new and…mine.

Violet stands in the soft morning light, chest rising fast, pupils wide.

The door to my bedroom click shuts, and the outside world ceases to exist.

“I want you. I’ll have you.”

My gaze is fierce, hungry, and utterly focused on her. I don’t kiss her. Instead, my hands came up to frame her face, my thumbs stroking her cheeks with a slow tenderness.

“I need to taste you,” I murmur, my voice rough with need. “All of you.”

My mouth finally crashes down on hers. It’s pure, unadulterated claiming. My lips are demanding, my tongue sweeping into her mouth with a fierce possessiveness. She clings to my shoulders, her fingers digging into the hard muscle there, meeting my ferocity with a surrender that only fuels me.

I break the kiss and my hot mouth trails down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower, until he take one taut, pebbled nipple into my mouth. She cries out, her back arching.

I lavish attention on her small, perfect breast, tongue circling her nipple, my teeth grazing it with just enough pressure to make her gasp, while my hand cups the other breast.

“Oh,” she gasps.