Page 40 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

"Do you always pleasure women that way?" she said, without turning from the window.

He choked on nothing.

And couldn’t stop while she watched him cough and gasp. When he caught his breath, she tilted her head to the side a little.

"For a gruff man with more scars than a stray dog, you are easily shocked."

He leaned forward with his elbows on his lap, covered his face with his rough palms, and rubbed rigorously. He’d just barely calmed his member into submission. Just barely.

"Don’t even think about telling me we are not discussing this or giving me a one syllable response because I am very interested in this topic, and you know how persistent I can be even when I am not."

Dropping his head, he exhaled.

"Well? Do you?"

Matthew raked his fingers through his long dark hair, staring down at the floor, at her small feet peeking through the skirts.

"Um," his voice came out hoarse, almost croaky, "no."

"Hm." He could feel her turning her body to face him squarely. "Why last night then?"

He released a sound between a groan and a sigh. This woman was trying to kill him with the longest sustained erection he’d ever had.

"Why not last night?" he asked instead.

"I assumed it would be an act you refrain from until you were already intimately acquainted with your bedpartner." She crossed her legs with a lift of her skirts, likely deliberately, revealing her stockinged ankles.

Matthew sat up, leaned all the way back against the back support, and stared up at the ceiling instead. He puffed out a breath.

“You sound frustrated,” she said and he heard teasing in her tone. “Or unfulfilled,” she continued. “Perhaps too tense.”

He lowered his gaze and glared at her smug face. “What happened to leaving me alone to do my job?”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. "If you cannot do your job while sitting in an enclosed space, I’ve hired the wrong man. Anyway, don’t change the subject."

He raked his hair once more. Gripping the back of his neck with his hand, he met her gaze. "I wanted to taste you. Last night. I’ve been wanting to bury my face in your quim for days now."

She didn’t react overtly, but Matthew saw the rosy colour spread on her cheeks.

Good.

“I don’t always want to get that intimate with women I tup. Some are just convenient lays, physical release, impersonal. Others…” He looked at her pointedly. “I want to know as intimately as possible. Taste them, bury my face in them, bury my cock in them as deeply as they can take me.” To his satisfaction, she was turning crimson now, the flush spreading to her chest. He stared at her breasts rise and fall and felt his member harden.

He raised his eyes to hers. "Think you said I was the first man to do that to you?"

Her smile faded. Not entirely, the ghost of it lingered at the corners of her mouth, but the teasing warmth left her eyes. In its place, caution.

"Yes," she said. Her voice was steady, but he heard the effort in it. "You were the first."

Matthew waited, feeling a mixture of smugness and possessiveness. But also, reluctance to allow himself these feelings.

She looked out the window again. The grey light carved her profile sharper, older.

"I was engaged once," she said. "A long time ago. We were intimate. A few times." A pause. "It was not a memorable experience. For either of us, apparently."

"What happened?"

"He left me for a widow." Her tone was light, almost careless, but her fingers had curled into the fabric of her skirt. "Told his friends I was boring. Prudish. The rumours spread. My family attempted to marry me off to some impoverished lord in the north. I declined." She turned back to him, and her smile was thin. "I've been declining ever since."