Page 47 of Her Dirty Defender

The tension within me builds, coiling tighter and tighter until I'm on the edge, ready to fall over. Beckett's fingers fly over my clit, and that's all it takes. I cry out, my body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure wash over me.

Beckett follows soon after, his body tensing as he finds his release with a harsh grunt. He collapses on top of me, his breath hot against my neck as we both come down from our high.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies still connected. Eventually, Beckett pulls back, his eyes soft as he gazes down at me.

“George,” he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion. "Fuck, that was incredible.”

A plaintive bleat cuts through the blissful moment.

We freeze, the spell broken.

I turn my head to see Cheese Puff in the doorway, chewing on what looks suspiciously like?—

Beckett groans, dropping his forehead onto my shoulder. “Tell me that goat isn’t eating my shirt.”

I bite my lip, trying and failing not to laugh. “I could tell you that. But I'd be lying.”

Cheese Puff lets out another cheerful bleat, completely unfazed by the naked humans she’s walked in on.

Beckett sighs. “This is not how I pictured the afterglow.”

Chapter12

George

I'm still grinning as I nudge Beckett's ribs. “Welcome to small-town life. Where your walk of shame comes with a side of livestock.”

Beckett's lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Remind me to lock the door next time.”

Next time.The words send a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the draft from the open door.

He helps me sit up, his hands gentle as they brush my skin. “Here,” he says, holding a clean shop rag. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

I reach for it, but Beckett holds firm. “Allow me,” he murmurs, his voice soft and intimate.

He gently parts my thighs, and a blush spreads across my cheeks as he carefully wipes the shop rag across my sensitive folds, cleaning away the remnants of our passion. The cloth is soft, and his touch is tender, almost reverent, as he takes care of me.

I watch him, my heart fluttering at the sight of this strong, capable man kneeling before me, his focus entirely on my comfort. The moment is unexpectedly intimate, and a warmth hits my chest that has nothing to do with the physical act we shared.

Once he's satisfied that I'm clean, he helps me into my clothes, his fingers lingering on my skin.

Beckett frowns, looking around as he pulls on his jeans. “And where, pray tell, has that goat gone with my damn shirt?”

I'm about to make a quip about goat-proofing the workshop when I notice that Cheese Puff has abandoned Beckett's shirt in favor of a thin black cable.

Beckett's reaction is instant and telling. He tenses, and his eyes widen before he quickly schools his expression. “Looks like Cheese Puff has a thing for wires, huh?”

“What the—” But I'm already moving, chasing after Cheese Puff as she darts away. “Drop it!” I command.

The goat gives me a look of pure defiance before releasing her prize. I snatch up the half-eaten cable, frowning as I examine it. It's not vehicle wiring—it's too thin, more like...

I'm already moving, following the trail of exposed wiring. It leads behind Gloria, my temperamental air compressor, to a small black box tucked away in the shadows. More cables snake up toward the rafters, a web of equipment I’ve never noticed.

My hands shake as I yank the box free to examine it closely. It's not just wires. It's surveillance equipment. Small, high-tech, and expensive. Definitely not standard garage equipment.

I turn to Beckett. His body language shifts instantly. Gone is the playful lover; in his place stands a man coiled as tight as a spring.

“George,” he starts, his voice low and controlled. His eyes flick to the cable, then to me, assessing. Calculating. “I can explain.”

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