Page 56 of Some Like 'Em Burly
Axel shakes his head, staring at the window now. “I’m good,” he mutters.
I glance at the window too, where a nearby street lamp glows through the drawn curtains. “Did you hear something out there?”
Axel’s frown gets impossibly broodier. “No.”
Oookay. My churning stomach settles a little, and I risk a few more steps toward the armchair. “Then why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?”
Finally, he looks over—and startles at my clothes. That brooding gaze turns hungry, roaming all over my body, and Ifeelit like a hot caress. Like a pair of bristly lips dragging down my throat.
My nipples press against the fabric of my top. Axel zooms in on them, eagle-eyed, and grips the armchair with those big, scarred hands until it creaks. His jaw works, and something rushes over me—the giddy sense of power that comes with seeing my effect on this man.
Hewantsme.
Maybe not forever, maybe not in more than a physical way, but the fact is undeniable: my temporary bodyguard wants my body badly. The flush rising on his cheekbones and the tendon popping in his neck give him away. Not to mention the way he shifts, wincing at his suddenly tight bike leathers.
I burst out laughing and give a little twirl. The faint sounds of gunfire and racing hooves float from the TV.
“Those aren’t slobby PJs,” Axel says, and his deep voice is strained, but there’s humor there too. He holds out a hand for me, ordering me closer with an unspoken command, and I’m more than happy to skip over to his armchair. When I get in reach, he wraps his fingers around my wrist, anchoring me there. “Where are your comfy clothes?”
I shrug. “These are comfy too.”
He eyes them doubtfully, and I don’t blame him. These shorts are so tight they ride up the crack of my ass, and my top bares so much of my chest that I shiver. There’s only one reason for me to put these clothes on, and it’s right there, straining against Axel’s fly. Is his bulge as big as it seems? If it weren’t an insane thing to do, I’d try to measure it with my hands.
But with any luck, I won’t need these clothes for much longer. Not if Axel gives in to the taut hunger that’s clear in everyline of his body; not if he strips me bare and does whatever he likes with me. Woozy heat fills me at the thought.
But… maybe it’s nuts to place all my trust in a man I only met a few hours ago, especially after the last guy I sort-of-dated turned out to be a complete worm. For a split second, doubt pierces me, and I tug carefully at Axel’s hold on my wrist.
He lets go immediately and settles back in the armchair—puts some distance between us, even though his gaze is still glued to my body.
I’m relieved and disappointed, all in one go.
“You got a sweatshirt or something?” Axel sucks the front of his teeth, still eyeing my dips and curves like he’s trying to commit them to memory. “Might be less… distracting.”
“Sure, I can put something on.” I don’t move, though. Not yet. Not until I’ve fully tried my luck. “But do you really need to focus when you’re guarding me in such a small room?”
Dark eyes whip up to mine. My bare toes scrunch into the threadbare rug, and my insides are so jittery right now that I can barely stand still.I want him, I want him, I want him.
“It seemed like you scared Peter pretty good earlier.”
Axel grunts in agreement, still staring like I’ve got him under some spell. His broad chest rises and falls beneath his dark red t-shirt.
“And the best way to be sure I’m safe is to keep me close, right?” I take a shaky step nearer. “Realclose.”
Axel makes a winded noise. Like I just kicked him in the gut.
And—
Can’t believe I’m saying all this. Can’t believe I’d ever be so bold.
Because I never, ever do stuff like this. Even after datingthat guy, I’ve still never kissed a man in my whole life. No one’s ever tempted me close or seemed worth the hassle; no one’s ever made my heart race or my breath turn ragged.
Honestly, I thought maybe my wiring was different. When I broke up with Peter, I declared to the universe that I was done even trying.
But ever since my first glimpse of Axel this morning, ever since this big, brutal biker loomed over me in the market… there’s been an itch under my skin. Aneed.
I want his scarred hands on my bare skin. Want his hot breath in my ear and his teeth at my throat; want him to push my legs wide and lay claim.
“I’m on duty,” Axel says at last, but his voice is pure gravel.
