“I don’t give a fuck about the job. I care about you.”
“You can’t,” he argues, but it’s weak, his resolve crumbling visibly.
“I do.” I lean in, my forehead resting against his. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t want it. But here we are.”
“I don’t want to be the reason—”
I kiss him again, harder this time, swallowing his words. My hand moves to his throat, not enough to restrict his breathing, just enough for him to feel it. To feel who’s in control. His body responds instantly, melting against mine, a small whimper escaping him.
When I pull back this time, his eyes are glazed. “Stop trying to protect me,” I tell him. “That’s my job, not yours.”
“Not anymore,” he reminds me. “You won’t be my bodyguard anymore.”
“I’m still going to protect you,” I promise. “Job or no job.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re mine.”
16
Wyatt
Because you’re mine.
Three simple words that manage to crack me wide open, exposing every raw nerve I’ve spent years protecting. I should be terrified. I should be running for the fucking hills. Instead, I’m backing toward my bedroom, eyes locked with Gray’s, heart galloping.
He follows, each step unhurried. Like he knows I’m not going anywhere. Like he has all the time in the world to catch me.
My back hits the bedroom door, and I fumble behind me for the handle, pushing it open. I step inside, the dim light from the city filtering through half-closed blinds, painting stripes of shadow and light across the floor. Across Gray’s face as he follows me in.
He closes the door with a soft click that sounds final. A boundary between what we were before and whatever we’re about to become.
“Gray,” I start, not even sure what I’m going to say. My voice comes out embarrassingly breathless.
His expression shifts, something darker taking hold. “Don’t. Move.”
The command freezes me in place. It’s not loud. It’s not harsh. But there’s an unmistakable authority in those two wordsthat makes my muscles lock and my dick throb. My hands hang uselessly at my sides as Gray begins to move.
He circles me slowly, like he’s taking inventory. His gaze travels over me, lingering on my throat, my chest, lower. I feel exposed, though I’m still fully clothed.
“What do you want, Wyatt?” His voice vibrates through my bones.
“You,” I answer, because it’s the simplest truth I know right now.
“Not specific enough.” He completes his circle, coming to stand directly in front of me. “Tell me exactly what you want from me.”
I swallow, remembering that first night in this apartment, when I was on my knees. “I want you to ruin me,” I whisper. “Like you said you would.”
Surprise flashes in his eyes.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, but there’s no rejection in his tone. Just warning.
“Then show me.” I’m vibrating with need, desperate for him to touch me, to take control. To make the decision for both of us.
Gray takes a step back, his face settling into resolve. “If I do this—if I give you what you’re asking for—you need to understand what I expect.” His voice drops lower. “Complete obedience. No hesitation. No second-guessing. When I tell you to do something, you do it.”
I nod quickly. “Yes. Anything.”
