Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

Blood thundered in my ears and my chest felt like it was going to explode as he escorted me to his Jeep.

When the jarring sound of someone shutting a car door attacked me, a cry tore from my throat. His only reaction was to step around me, his tall body folding down over me, cocooning me from any potential danger—even the imaginary kind.

The embarrassment of it all soured in my stomach as he guided me into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me.

He didn’t ask questions as we drove the twenty minutes to his house. He did, however, keep one hand planted on my thigh and watch me out of the corner of his eye as I fought to breathe.

When he turned into a small apartment complex and then parked in front of a two-story, brick quad-unit building, the process started all over again, only in reverse.

I held my breath to keep the panic from showing. Though, judging by how tightly Jude kept me pressed into his side, I had a sneaking suspicion I was failing.

The moment I stepped over the threshold and into his apartment, a blast of fresh air filled my burning lungs and my whole body sagged. Jude stepped in behind me, his hand moving around my middle as he placed a kiss to my temple.

“See? Safe and sound,” he murmured.

I closed my eyes and smiled, swaying back against him, mentally celebrating the enormous victory.

“Thanks, Jude,” I whispered.

“No need to thank me. It wasn’t hard to dodge the Chinese throwing stars from the little old lady closing her car door in the parking garage,” he replied, flipping the lights on to reveal a virtually empty apartment.

There was a large dining room table, which was entirely too big for the modest space, and a chocolate leather sofa that had seen its fair share of wear and tear. But they were his, so they felt comfortable.

I tilted my head back against his chest and shot him a smile. He was oblivious to how big of a deal this was for me. And I decided right then and there I liked it that way. He wasn’t coddling me. Or staring at me like I was a mental case. Or pressuring me to spill my soul. He simply returned my smile.

It was the most liberating smile of my life.

Something inside me snapped—in the best possible way.

Jude freed me.

“Are we alone?” I asked, taking the pot pie dish from his hand and walking to the laminate countertop of his bar.

“Until the furniture guys get here,” he chuckled.

He stopped chuckling when I set the dish down and tore my shirt over my head.

“Jesus, fuck, Rhion,” he cursed, his gaze jumping to my breasts and staying there as I sauntered toward him.

“Let’s hope they’re late,” I purred. I caught him by the back of the neck and then dragged him down to my mouth.

His hands landed on my hips at the same time his lips met mine. Our tongues tangled as our moans and growls collided. I folded my arms around his neck and took him deeper. I wanted more. More of the freedom I felt in his embrace. More of his mouth. More of his hands at my breasts. More of the way his talented fingers could draw me to the edge. And that had been when he was drunk.

From the way he kissed me, I knew that sober Jude would be better.

He continued to work my mouth as I reached back to undo my bra.

“Wait,” he ordered against my lips, catching my hands to still them.

“I’m done waiting,” I replied, giving up on the bra and going for his shirt.

He palmed either side of my head and held my gaze. “Rhion. Wait.”

After tugging up on the hem of his shirt, I slid my hands underneath and raked my nails up his stomach. His abs flexed, rippling under my touch.

Dropping his forehead to mine, he groaned, “Woman, what are you doing?”

I pushed up onto my toes and brushed my lips against his. “I’m simply finishing what we started that first night at my place.”

His hand moved down to my ass. “Maybe that’s our problem. I don’t remember what exactly we started.”

“Then I’ll show you.” I rolled my hips against his, finding him long and hard behind the denim. Electricity shot between my legs and up to my nipples, igniting every nerve ending in its path.

“Fuck,” he mumbled before taking my mouth in a punishing kiss. It was the most beautiful pain I had ever experienced.

Then it was my turn to curse as he used my ass to grind me against him again.

With our lips—and our tongues—still connected, he backed me into the room. I shuffled my heels across the carpeted floor in step with him as he continued to kiss me, deep and demanding.

Jude’s arms wrapped around my waist, and then the ground disappeared beneath my feet.

Seconds later, I found myself horizontal, teetering on the edge of his dining room table.

“Scoot back and get comfortable, baby,” he said with a dangerous grin.

I obeyed—eagerly.

“Mmm. Good girl,” he purred, grazing the tip of his finger down the swell of my breasts.

I groaned, fisting my hands at my sides as he placed a kiss at the top of my breast. “Lower,” I begged.

He spoke between kisses against my chest. “I’ve got two men on their way to deliver my bed.” Kiss. “They are going to be here any minute.” Kiss. “But.” He lifted his head and his blazing, green gaze locked with mine. “If you want to show me what happened on Friday night, I’ll have them leave the damn thing on the front porch.”

A chill shook my shoulders as he teased a finger over my bra. And then my head fell back and a moan flew from my mouth as he dipped inside, brushing my sensitive nipple.

“Is that a yes, Rhion? You finally gonna let me in on your little secret?” he asked as he gave the fabric a tug, popping my entire breast free.

My body made the decision for me when he rolled my nipple between two fingers and overloaded my system as a million sparks traveled straight to my clit.

“Yes!” I cried, arching off the table.





I silently cursed all forms of alcohol and their mind-erasing effects. I’d gone an entire week without the memory of Rhion Park in the throes of ecstasy, her mouth open as she gasped for air, a round breast pushed up by her black lace bra, and my fingers plucking and rolling her perfect, pink nipple.

My cock swelled impossibly hard at the sight.

I’d been a rock since she’d brazenly stripped her shirt off, that fiery butterfly tattoo taunting me as half of it hid beneath her bra.

Fuck the deliverymen. I would have slept on a damn air mattress for the rest of my life in exchange for my current view.

“Yes!” she cried again.

“Start talking, Butterfly.”

Her blue eyes fluttered open, and she swept her tongue over her bottom lip before taunting, “I said I’d show you. No telling.” She teased a finger back and forth under the hem of my shirt. “Take this off.”

I tore the shirt over my head, and no sooner than it was on the floor had she sat up and begun working my neck with her skilled mouth.

I bent and balanced myself on a hand as she ravenously bit and sucked. “Fuck, baby,” I groaned, shoving a hand into the back of her hair. “Did you do this on Friday night?”

“Yes. You lifted me up to sit on the washing machine because you were too tall,” she replied against my neck.