Guarded: A Bodyguard Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 5)

by Rowena

  I let her ramble on, enjoying watching how animated she is when she’s stuck in a twisting train of thought.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked.

  “I just love you. That’s all. I’m glad we’ll be together.”

  Instead of moving into my condo, however, we’ve both moved into a totally new space—a two-bedroom apartment. She has converted the extra bedroom for her business use.

  We both like starting sort of fresh, and I took all possible security measures for the new place from the beginning.

  I now rent out my condo.

  As for work, instead of the reserves, I arranged to work in a security firm, get official training for this kind of shit.

  I can be where Angel is most of the time, and it won’t necessarily be as shitty as I imagined.

  I can work in corporate protection, look out for CEOs and other execs.

  Oh, and I finally tracked down Butch.

  We had a talk, and I’m pretty sure he’s over the whole thing for real this time; he won’t be a problem for me again.

  Turns out he deliberately didn’t confiscate Angel’s phone as he was supposed to; he didn’t take it to the agreed-upon location to mislead anyone who could be tracking her.

  He’d decided at the last minute not to work against me, giving Angel a shot at being rescued without letting Leonard know he’d been betrayed by leaving her phone near her location.

  In the meantime, this engagement ring is burning my pocket.

  I’m going to pop the question soon—probably as soon as she gets back from the movies with Kiara.

  It’s been just a few glorious months of being together, but why wait, right? Nothing has ever felt this natural.

  Being engaged will probably help her feel even better about her decision to engage in cohabitation, impressing upon her how serious I am about her, about making a life with her, spending my life with her.

  It’s strange feeling this open, this much for one person.

  What power she has over me!

  I rehearse the proposal again, trying to find the right words.

  It seems like it should be simple—just drop to one knee and ask, right?

  I don’t think she’ll turn me down. Why am I so nervous?

  The front door opens and closes, followed by the sound of her putting down her keys, her purse.

  “Oh my gosh! Both Kiara and I got recognized today—her on the way there, me on the way back. It wasn’t annoying or anything—I mean, we’re able to do what we’re doing because of the fans, but do you have to corner someone in a bathroom? It feels a bit weird, that’s all. She got asked for her autograph, I was asked for a photo…what’s wrong?”

  I’ve been walking up to her silently and now I’m just a few feet away from her; she’s within arm’s reach.

  I close the remaining gap and grab her hands.

  “You know I love you, right? A lot. Maybe too much.”

  “I don’t know about that last part,” she says with a smile. “But yes. And I love you too.”

  Still holding her hands, I drop to my knees, releasing one of her hands to grab the ring from my pocket.

  She sucks in a breath, one hand covering her mouth. “Oh my god,” she whispers faintly.

  I take a deep breath. “W…?”

  “Hell yes!” she says, helping me slide the ring on.

  I laugh, and I’m barely back up on my feet before she says, “Does this mean our kid won’t be a bastard?”

  I glance down at the hand she now has over her flat tummy.

  It takes me a split second to process her words. “Um…”

  “First trimester, lack of a period clued me in. And also, my sudden aversion to certain foods. I took a home test, followed it up with a doctor’s visit a few days ago, and I was trying to figure out a good time to tell you. This seemed like the one!”

  She’s still smiling but looks sort of scared, as if she’s not sure how I’ll take the news.

  My poor baby. Doesn’t she know how much I adore her? How many times do I have to say it? How many ways can I show it?

  I’ll happily spend the rest of my life figuring it out.

  “I’m the luckiest man alive,” I say before kissing her hard and long.

  Then I pick her up and spin her around joyously, wondering at the many ways she’s able to make me happy, over and over again.

  I sure as hell look forward to many more.

  If you enjoyed this story, please leave a review!

  PLEASE NOTE: Some of the other characters have (or will have) their own stories. Derek’s story is currently available in Sculptor (takes place before Guarded) and Kiara’s love story is coming soon!

  Check out Rowena’s Amazon Author page for other steamy stories such as Penalty (a new adult sports romance), Bossy (a billionaire boss office romance), and Fated (a BBW billionaire romance). Mafia romantic suspense novel also available.

  Join Rowena’s mailing list for news about upcoming releases, sales, giveaways, etc. here!

  UP NEXT: an excerpt from Sculptor (a military alpha male romance).

  SYNOPSIS: She has no idea what she’s in for…

  DEREK - When a stunning goddess crashes my art studio, demanding I take on a project for her when I’m still knee-deep in my current one, the answer should have been a firm no. Instead, I got firm elsewhere, and the next thing I know, I’m ready to do everything in my power to claim the innocent rich girl and make her mine. She wants to make demands? I’ve got some of my own. But we both might have bitten off more than we can chew…

  SCULPTOR is a sexy fast-paced BWWM romance with lots of heat, alpha insta-love, and over-the-top naughty drama! The ex-military hero is obsessed with the untouched heroine and won’t stop until he claims her. Guaranteed HEA (no cliffhanger).

  EXCERPT

  Sculptor

  CHAPTER ONE - DEREK

  I turn angrily with a “How the fuck did you get in here?” on my lips, but I am knocked off my ass—almost literally—by the vision before me, a mouth-watering feminine form neatly wrapped in an immaculate navy skirt suit.

  Fuck. Me.

  I was fully prepared to rip the head off of the intruder who, by the way, had the balls to shut my music off, but the second I lay eyes on the stately goddess who stormed my studio, interrupting my work session, I know I’m up shit creek without a paddle.

  I’m pretty sure I can’t blink now, my eyes not wanting to miss a millisecond of this beautiful intruder filling my sight.

  She is truly stunning—smooth brown skin I think actually glows, sort of almond-shaped dark eyes with lots of lashes, flawless eyebrows, long, straightened dark hair, and obviously expensive, perfectly fitted clothes.

  And I can see a hint of red on the bottom of her heels from here.

  I immediately know this girl has a powerful daddy—biological or not.

  My cock stirs, nudging me to turn my words of rebuke into words that’ll get it closer to being buried inside her, but my brain reminds me that that’s a no-no.

  The girl is ridiculously gorgeous, and I want her desperately, but I have a strict rule about sex when knee-deep in a project this size.

  Like those Olympic athletes who abstain while training and have a big old orgy once the Olympic games are done, I stay focused until the goal is met.

  But my resolve is weakening the longer she stands there like a perfect, fuckable statue.

  Almost too neat and perfect—she looks ravishing with her lips stained red and every hair in place, but all I want to do is mess her up, smear her lipstick with rough kisses.

  Her slender frame would fit perfectly in my muscled arms.

  “May I help you?” I ask as evenly as I can, considering everything raging inside of me.

  I can’t let on how much the goddess is affecting me, how much my cock desperately wants to find out what it would feel like to be buried deep between those killer legs.

  “Yes, you may,” she responds almost mockingly, and I kind of want to
make her pay for that.

  My cock twitches again.

  “I’d like to commission you for a piece. I want you to sculpt an orisha with the likeness of my mother…”

  “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand half the words you just said,” I say dryly, not letting on how close she got to getting fucked hard. “Either way, I’m busy; I’ve got a piece due in four weeks and I don’t begin another with that kind of deadline over my head.”

  Her composure cracks a little.

  I’m struck by how tall she is—she could easily be a model—although her statuesque height isn’t an issue for me because even at what I’m guessing is 5’10” without heels, I have at least half a foot on her.

  In fact, I’d love to drop everything and make her my next project.

  I’d do a nude of her, but it enrages me to think of someone stumbling across it and seeing what should be for my eyes only.

  “But her birthday’s soon here!” she says almost like a little girl, but then she snaps back to refined ice queen mode. “So how fast can you get it done? I’ll pay you handsomely.”

  I almost chuckle. “I’m sure you would! But it’s not about the money for me, luv.”

  Truthfully, I have plenty of money.

  Starving artist, my ass—I’ve been selling my work for years and my usual clients have deep pockets and their referrals are gold.

  Things took off when one satisfied extra-wealthy client led to curious copycat others a few years ago, and the requests haven’t stopped coming.

  It’s funny the way some of the super-wealthy feel the need to keep up with each other, one way or another.

  It’s like they all need a piece of the artist known as Dagor now.

  I’ve had enough lucrative projects to set aside a hell of a nest egg and set me up for life, so I definitely don’t need the goddess’s money.

  Not that I’m dismissive of anyone who comes asking—I’m just careful about how much I take on at a time; I’ve learned to budget my energy wisely.

  I take breaks, but when opportunity comes knocking at the right time and at the right price, I answer.

  The client I’m working for now has extra deep pockets, plus I was intrigued by the project so it was a no-brainer.

  “Babe, did you not hear me? I can’t promise anything until this project’s done,” I say, pointing at my pile of raw materials.

  Truth be told, I’m a bit behind already.

  I can still pull it off in time, but only with zero distractions.

  That’s the whole point of getting a studio in the middle of goddamned nowhere that can’t be traced back to me easily.

  Wait a minute, how did she…?

  “So you’ll do it, then?” she asks as if I hadn’t already said no in five different ways.

  No matter how much she pouts those pretty lips and bats those pretty eyes, I can’t take it on.

  I let out a deep breath. “Sure, angel—if your mom doesn’t mind a belated gift.”

  She suddenly squares her shoulders, her chest lifting and making my eyes go straight to her perky tits for a moment.

  Man, I’d love to rip that perfectly ironed blouse off her and see how much composure she can pull off then with her titties out, reddened lips finally smeared by my hungry mouth while I’m grabbing her by her hair a bit.

  When I glance back at her face, I see that her jaw has tightened.

  Oh, boy, here it comes—the spoiled princess I-get-everything-I-want mode.

  I almost have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  Her head is held high and proud when she says in a smoother, lower voice, “I saw the way you looked at me earlier. Perhaps I can convince you to change your mind?”

  Now we’re talking.

  But then she says, “For example, I’ll have lunch with you if you’d like.”

  That does it.

  I collapse into unstoppable laughter, hard and long, again almost falling off my work stool.

  I’m practically doubled over at this woman thinking a mere lunch can make me put a huge billionaire client aside for her, despite her sweet ass.

  We’re talking about a powerful, influential man who could ruin my reputation in the blink of an eye, reducing the likelihood other wealthy clients continue to take a chance on me.

  Yeah, I can already retire early, but I actually like the shit I do.

  “Hon, it would take a lot more than eating pasta with you to get me to shelve what I’m doing and take you on. A LOT.”

  Her manner softens a bit though she still looks resolute.

  “Like what?” she asks.

  Is she kidding me right now?

  I let my eyes slowly run over her—from her stunning heated face to her tits, then straight down the rest of her curves to her Louboutins.

  When I look back up at her face, she doesn’t look as confident as she did at first; she looks almost scared.

  But didn’t she just pretty much offer herself up to me?

  It enrages me that she’d be so easy, but my cock hasn’t stopped swelling since I laid eyes on her, and if the goddess wants to give it up to me, I’ll gladly take it.

  At least then maybe I can get her out of my head and get back to work because let’s face it—she’ll just be an even worse distraction if I don’t take the opportunity.

  At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

  Or is that my cock speaking?

  I give her a slow smile and her eyes dart away from my face shyly.

  “How about you leave your panties here?” I say softly, deceptively tentative and almost sweet if I say so myself.

  Her eyes widen a bit and I have to fight to keep a straight face.

  What the hell else was she expecting?

  And hell, that’s the least of my request—wait till she hears the rest.

  She seems to relax in relief, and I look forward to dropping the bombshell.

  “Is that it?” she says shakily.

  Her eyes look hopeful and I can tell she’s trying her best not to look scandalized.

  What the heck is really going on with this one? Is she a confident, sexually liberated woman or not?

  I don’t answer her; I just watch as she very delicately starts pulling her panties down from underneath her designer skirt, avoiding my eyes again.

  She must love her mom a whole goddamned lot to be doing this right now for a perfect stranger.

  She’s out here alone, isolated, and getting my dick hard just by existing, but she is determined to get me to take on her project.

  Once she has freed the lacy red fabric, she stands tall again, extending her arm toward me, the tantalizing undergarment hanging off her perfectly manicured finger.

  I take it from her and bring it to my nose, holding it there and sniffing her in.

  That was a goddamned grave mistake.

  Her delicate feminine scent makes my cock throb so hard, I almost expect it to bust through my pants raging at her.

  The goddess might be neat and tidy on the outside, but she left a spot, and knowing she got wet for me starts scrambling my brain.

  “There. So you agree,” she says, still trying to look like she’s in charge, as if she’s got it all together and is unfazed, business as usual.

  But she is failing.

  I tuck the panties in my pocket.

  “Oh, no, no, no, sweetheart—that’s not it at all,” I say darkly, my voice almost a growl. “Goddess, what I’d like to do more than anything right now is taste you. So how about you spread your legs a bit for me? I'll just hike up your skirt.”

  Her eyes actually bulge this time.

  “Excuse me?” she says in the most outraged voice I’ve ever heard directed at me.

  “You heard me, beautiful. Just a lick or two. I need to kiss those pussy lips of yours.”

  I close the distance between us then get on my knees before her, placing my rough hands on her smooth thighs.

  Her mouth hangs open as she stares down at me in shock, but I just st
art pushing her skirt up until her sweet, glistening folds are before me.

  Holy shit, this was a bad idea—I don’t know if I can control myself.

  She is still staring at me with worry when I dive for her pussy, taking the delicate lips of her cunt in my hungry mouth.

  She lets out a whimper that electrifies everything inside me, dazzling sensations coursing through my body before zapping my dick and making it throb almost painfully, engorged with need.

  I have to fight not to pull her down to the ground and let it take over, shoving it into the source of the sweet nectar on my tongue—the goddess can’t handle all of me just yet, I can tell.

  Her soaked pussy is definitely ready, but I mean otherwise.

  She finally gives me what I want, opening her legs more and positioning herself for optimal licking.

  My tongue finds all her delightful nooks and crannies, darting over her most sensitive parts, flickering over her clit, sliding up her soaked slit.

  She is holding onto my shoulders as I eat her, moaning uncontrollably.

  The feminine sounds are doing a number on me, and soon, I can’t take it anymore and I pull my dick out.

  When she notices, she tries to pull away but my hands grab her ass cheeks and keep her pussy and my lips connected. She’s not going any-goddamn-where.

  “We can’t!” she says breathily, still trying to pull away.

  I withdraw my mouth from her sweet cunt to say, “Don’t you worry, darlin’—I have no plans to sink him into you today.”

  And, as if to reassure her, I leave one hand on her ass cheek while the other finds my thick, jutting cock and starts moving over it.

  Once she sees what I’m up to, she relaxes again, and I suck and lick her more desperately, flicking my tongue over her juicy lips while my hand tries to calm my demanding cock down before I turn myself into a filthy liar.