Page 89 of The Bodyguard

No teasing. No flourish.

Andi let the statement hang there for a moment. “I love you too.” She lay back—naked, open, completely his.

He traced one hand up her thigh. Slow, reverent. Like she was something sacred, not someone who’d survived a war of her own making.

“You’re mine,” he said, almost to himself.

Andi didn’t argue. Didn’t even speak. Just nodded once, her breath catching as his hand moved higher.

He took his time.

No ropes tonight. No cuffs. No harsh orders barked in the dark. Tonight wasn’t about submission—it was about surrender.

Andi felt it in the way he kissed her collarbone. The way he trailed his mouth down the slope of her breast, over her ribs, pausing at every mark he’d left before—each bruise, each bite, each invisible brand.

When his tongue found her clit, she cried out, soft and sharp, one arm flung over her eyes. But he pulled it gently away.

“Prop yourself up on your elbows. Eyes on me,” he murmured. “Tonight, I want you watching.”

So she did. She watched as he kissed her thighs like they were the finest silk. As he licked into her slowly, teasing her open with soft circles and deep, luxurious strokes that made her body arch off the bed.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just gave.

Again and again.

Andi came with a moan she couldn’t hold back, her fingers curled in the sheets, her body thrumming with so much heat it felt like light.

But he didn’t stop.

He kissed her through it, coaxed her higher, dragged her back down until her second orgasm made her thighs shake.

Only then did he rise above her, eyes locked on hers.

She reached for him. He caught her hand. Twined their fingers together.

And when he pushed inside her, it wasn’t hard or fast or punishing. It was deep. Full. Worshipful.

Andi gasped, her hips rising to meet his, the stretch delicious and slow. He moved like he had all night, all year, all damn eternity to remind her what it meant to be his.

“You feel like home,” she whispered.

He kissed her temple. Her jaw. Her mouth.

And then he gave her everything, pounding into her with a relentless rhythm that wouldn’t be denied. When she shattered again, it wasn’t with a scream—it was with a sigh and a prayer and his name on her lips like a promise.

Afterward, he didn’t leave the bed. He wrapped himself around her, one hand at her waist, the other tangled in her hair. They stayed like that until the sun crept over the skyline and bled gold across the floorboards.

Andi stirred first. She looked at the man who had guarded her body, broken down her armor, and then handed her the world.

“You staying?” she asked again, knowing the answer.

Mitch kissed her shoulder. “Unless you tell me to leave,” he replied with a grin.

She smiled into the pillow. “Good. I’ve got a pretty big office to fill, and I could use a security detail who doesn’t flinch when I get bossy.”

He hummed low. “You’re always bossy.”

She turned in his arms, locking eyes with him.

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