Page 8 of My Bodyguard’s The Boss

“Dominic’s not here,” Austin said, proud of how steady his voice was. “You don’t have to go all protocol when he isn’t here.”

Not like he’s all about the protocol anyway, he added silently to himself. For as fantastic as Dominic was at his job, it wasn’t protocol to grab your client’s face when you told him to go to the car. And it sure as hell wasn’t protocol to make him brush his teeth while he was wasted or put him to bed.

Austin had been convinced that memory was a dream for a long time. Until tonight.

“I just don’t want him to think I’m not doing my job,” Brent said, watching him in the rear-view mirror.

Austin let his voice sharpen. “You’re not coming back here, Brent.”

Brent blinked with surprise. The driver, Hatter—who was usually on the day shift but swapped around tonight due to some annoying kid-related stuff Austin didn’t listen to—glanced over at Brent with his brows raised. Austin didn’t often bring out his acting voice when he was off the job.

Like everybody else in Austin’s life except for his brother, father, and Dominic, Brent immediately caved to whatever he was saying in his scary voice.

“Got it,” he said.

Austin sagged back against his seat, relieved. If Brent came back here, he would see how mortifyingly hard Austin was. He couldn’t deal with that right now.

The car door opened. Austin crossed his legs in panic as Dominic leaned down and looked into the front seats.

“Out,” Dominic told Brent. “Your shift is over. I’ll take it from here.”

Brent and Hatter looked at each other. Dominic was in charge, but he’d never dismissed anyone before their shift was over before. Not that Austin knew, anyway. It was hard to care when all the blood in his body had fled from his brain straight to his cock, which throbbed as he watched Dominic take control like this.

“But,” Brent began. “My wife’s picking me up from the house.”

“Mr. Wayne will pay for your taxi,” Dominic said. “Out.”

Brent and Hatter traded another look. Then Brent climbed out, closing the door behind them.

“What was the problem?” Hatter asked, rubbing the steering wheel nervously. “Just a car backfiring, right?”

“No, it was a gunshot. They found it in the wait staff lockers. They think someone snuck in with a stolen uniform.”

“What?” Austin said. “Why? Did they have a target?”

“We’re looking into it,” Dominic said. But there was something in the tight line of his jaw that told Austin he already had his suspicions.

Dominic slid into the backseat and nodded at Hatter. “Hatter, let’s go.”

The limo pulled into the street. Dominic pressed the button that rolled up the partition, and Austin watched it ease into place with his heart in his throat. Was Dominic even going to acknowledge it? He felt like he was going crazy. He was so hard, and Dominic had just touched his face.

“Why did you make Brent leave?” Austin asked breathlessly, staring into the dark partition that turned the backseat into its own little world.

“Couldn’t take the risk,” Dominic said, checking his watch, the deft, simple movement somehow making Austin even harder. “He’s good at his job, but he’s not very discreet. Hatter knows to keep quiet if he hears something he shouldn’t have.”

Austin’s chest flared with wild hope. He squeezed his crossed legs together, barely able to gather enough spit to swallow.

“Why? Are you going to kill me or fuck me?” he managed. He even gave Dominic a lazy grin, but it went wobbly at the edges when Dominic looked at him straight-on.

This was happening. It had to. Even if Dominic were actually here to kill him, Austin would enjoy Dominic’s hands around his throat for a few seconds before he started thumping the partition for help.

Dominic didn’t even look down at his lap. He was staring squarely into Austin’s face as he asked, “Did you touch yourself?”

“What? There were two guys in the front seat,” Austin protested. Then he rubbed his crossed legs together, the hard pressure making him wince. He had squeezed himself. Under the guise of adjusting himself, but still.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted grudgingly.

Dominic’s expression didn’t change. “Did I give you permission?”