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With a deft twist of his wrist, I shatter.
The soft silk sheets slide over my bare skin as I roll onto my side, reaching for Ben in the darkness. My fingers meet warm, solid muscle and the thump-thump of his heartbeat.
“You’re thinking too loudly again,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
“Sorry.” I bite my lip, tracing the hard line of his jaw. “It’s just—”
“Shh.” He pulls me closer, one large hand splaying across the small of my back. “Whatever it is can wait until morning.”
I sigh and nestle into the shelter of his arms. Ben is like my own personal fortress, keeping the world at bay. And yet, he is the source of most of my troubles.
Ben’s possessive display should frighten me, but instead it ignites a fire deep within. His hands move over my body with familiarity, stroking and claiming every inch of skin as his. I melt into his embrace, craving the escape he offers me from my worries and fears.
When his mouth descends to my breast, teasing my nipple into a rigid peak, I cry out softly. He growls in response, biting down until a shock of pain-pleasure spears through me.
“You’re distracting me,” he accuses, though his eyes gleam with lust. He cups my sex, stroking me to readiness. “We have business to discuss, and here you are, tempting me.”
I rock my hips against his hand, beyond caring. “Please, Ben.”
“Please what?” His fingers delve inside me, curling against my inner walls. “Tell me what you want, Flore.”
“You,” I gasp out. “I want you.”
He removes his hand, ignoring my whimper of protest, and rolls off the bed. When he returns, he’s fully dressed, his expression shuttered. I scramble to cover myself with the sheet, confusion flooding me.
Did I do something wrong? Hurt flickers in my chest at the thought of displeasing him in some way.
Before I can ask, he says, “I’m going out.”
“Out? But I thought—”
“Now, Flore.” His tone brooks no argument.
I nod, hiding my hurt behind a mask of indifference. We may share a powerful physical connection, but Ben remains as elusive as ever. Perhaps he will always keep a part of himself closed off from me, no matter how much I give him in return.
The thought leaves me hollow inside.
14
Ben
I curse under my breath as I stride down the hall, my hands curling into fists. Not at Flore—never at her. No, my anger is directed inward, at myself and my goddamned weakness where she’s concerned.
One touch, one kiss, and I’m ready to give her anything she asks for. My control, my restraint—all of it disappears in a haze of lust and longing whenever she’s near.
It’s unacceptable. As her bodyguard, my sole duty should be to protect Flore, not bed her at every opportunity. But my need for her is an addiction I can’t seem to shake, no matter the warnings echoing in my head.
Getting involved with a client is dangerous and unprofessional. If anything were to happen to Flore because I was too distracted by our relationship, the guilt would destroy me.
And yet, when I see the hurt in her eyes, the thought of pulling away from her is unbearable. I’m caught in a vice with no easy solutions, trapped by my own foolish actions.
The sound of her heels clicking against the floor has me pausing. I close my eyes, gathering my control, and turn to face her.
One look at Flore, and I’m lost all over again. She’s dressed in a little black dress that hugs every curve, her lips painted crimson and eyes lined with kohl.
Mine, the beast inside me growls, possessive and primal. I tamp it down, though not before stepping close and cupping her neck. The urge to mark her, to claim her in a way the world will see, rises swiftly.
“You have an appearance to make tonight at the charity ball,” I say, my voice rough with restraint. “Are you ready?”
