Page 24 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

"I'm going to check the perimeter once more," Varnok announces, interrupting my thoughts. "The balcony has insufficient security measures."

"Knock yourself out," I mutter, massaging my temples.

While he inspects the balcony doors, I change into more comfortable clothes—silk loungewear that feels like heaven against my skin after hours in formal diplomatic attire. I pile my hair atop my head in a messy bun and wash the makeup from my face.

When I emerge, Varnok is examining the suite's security panel with intense focus. He's removed his formal jacket, revealing a tight-fitting undershirt that does nothing to hide his impressive physique. The red scales covering his arms catch the light as he moves, creating patterns that draw my eye.

I sink into the plush sofa, knowing sleep is a lost cause. My mind races too much—reviewing negotiation strategies,replaying Kallus's smug expression, feeling Varnok's hands on my waist...

"Computer, play music. Something relaxing." Soft jazz fills the room, a saxophone crooning low and sweet. "God, I could use a drink."

Before I can reach for the room service menu, Varnok abandons the security panel and plops down heavily beside me. The sofa dips dramatically under his weight, sliding me a few inches closer to him.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" he asks, digging a metal flask out of a pouch on his belt. The flask looks old, with intricate engravings etched into its surface. He undoes the cap and hands it over.

I take it with open suspicion. "What is this, Vakutan rot-gut deathrattle blood wine or something?"

I sniff cautiously and frown in confusion. "It smells like brandy, from Earth."

"Because it is brandy, from Earth," Var says with a hint of amusement. "My people are fine warriors, and expert engineers. But when it comes to the finer arts of fermented beverages, they are somewhat lacking."

I take a tentative sip. The liquid burns down my throat, spreading warmth through my chest and into my limbs. My skin flushes, and alarm bells ring in my head. Oh no. Var is already looking too damn good as it is. The last thing I need is lowered inhibitions.

"Thanks, but no more for me." I hand the flask back quickly.

"Is it not good?" His ridged brow furrows in concern.

"That's not the problem," I reply, looking away.

The silence stretches between us, filled only by the sultry saxophone. I'm acutely aware of his massive presence beside me, the heat radiating from his body, the subtle scent of him—something like sandalwood and metal.

Var puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes gently. My heart thunders in my chest, and I can't seem to breathe properly.

"If you're growing impatient, we can skip the brandy," he rumbles, his voice dropping to a register that sends shivers down my spine.

I stare at his hand on my leg—red scales against pale silk, powerful fingers that could crush stone resting with surprising gentleness on my thigh. My mouth goes dry. Every logical part of my brain is screaming that this is a terrible idea. I'm here on a diplomatic mission. He's my bodyguard. We're completely different species.

But logic seems very far away right now.

My head spins from the brandy, or maybe it's just the overwhelming presence of Varnok. I can't think straight with him this close, his hand on my thigh, his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that borders on feral.

"I've been dying to taste those amazing lips for days," Var growls. His voice rumbles through me like distant thunder, making my stomach flutter with anticipation.

Before I can even process his words, he's moving—a swift, decisive motion that pins me against the back of the sofa. His massive hands grip my shoulders, pulling me into him. His kiss is deep and claiming, hard and fierce, and it ignites something primal within me.

My hands fly to his chest instinctively, fingers splayed against the firm muscle beneath his undershirt. I'm caught off-guard by the suddenness of it all, but his kiss consumes me, and any resistance I might have mustered melts away under the onslaught of his passion.

I throw my arms around his huge neck, surrendering to the moment, to the unspoken desire that's been simmering between us since we first met. I kiss him back with equal fervor, ourtongues dueling in a dance as heated and desperate as the one we shared on the dance floor earlier that evening.

With a boldness that surprises even me, I climb up onto his lap and straddle him. The leather of the sofa creaks under our combined weight. I can feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against me through the fabric of our clothes, and I grind against him shamelessly, relishing the low growl that vibrates in his chest.

His grip on me tightens, fingers digging into my hips with bruising force. I'm vaguely aware that I should probably be concerned about the strength he's displaying, but all rational thought is driven from my mind by the raw need coursing through my veins.

Suddenly, Varnok pushes me away from him slightly, though I remain rooted on his lap. His dark eyes bore into mine, full of challenge and barely restrained hunger.

"You think you're in charge?" he growls, the words sending a thrill down my spine.

I open my mouth to retort, to assert some semblance of control, but before I can form the words, he rips my top in half as easily as if it were made of paper. The sudden exposure sends a jolt of shock through me, followed by a rush of heat that pushes me even closer to the edge.

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