Chapter 18

Eighteen

Harlowe

As soon as my lips touched his, I was struck by how shockingly soft they were. Had I thought orc lips would be hard and rigid? But as soon as that thought slipped from my mind, I was struck by the startling fact that I was kissing Roc. I was kissing my bodyguard. Then I realized something else. He wasn’t kissing back.

I jerked away, as if icy water had been poured over my head. What had I done? I’d thrown myself at the guy who’d been hired to protect me. Rule number one in Hollywood, don’t screw—or in this case, kiss—the people you pay.

I heaved in a breath, still so close to him that I could feel his breath feathering across my lips. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Clearly, kissing me is the last thing you want to—”

Before I could finish my awkward apology, his mouth was on mine. Where my kiss had been tentative, his was nothing less than a total claiming. He clasped one hand behind my head and held me to him as he opened my lips with a hard swipe of his tongue. But as forceful as his kiss was, his rough growl was followed by his tongue tangling sensually with mine.

I dropped my empty wine glass, not caring where it landed on the bed, and scraped both of my hands through his hair. In response, he swept aside the remaining takeout containers and lowered me onto my back, bracing himself over me without breaking our deep kiss. I sighed into his mouth and lifted my legs to wrap around his waist, need pounding through me and making my head swim.

As I arched into him, I felt something hard straining against his pants. Roc was so much bigger than me, than any human, that I’d always wondered how much bigger he’d be everywhere. Imagining his size had been the stuff of my teenage fantasies, and I unwound my fingers from his hair so I could fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. My fingers danced over the rigid girth that I so desperately wanted to touch, until his hand clamped over mine and stopped me.

He tore his lips from mine, his dark eyes wild and unfocused as he sucked in air. “Harlowe.”

The way he said my name, it sounded like he was pleading, begging, desperate.

“Why did you stop?” I fought to even the jagged edges of my own breath. “What’s wrong?”

He sat back on his knees as he raked a hand through his mane of black hair. “We can’t.”

I tried to laugh off his statement as I reached for the bulge between his legs. “Sure, we can. Here, I’ll show you.”

He grabbed my wrists on one of his enormous hands and held them. “We should not. I am your bodyguard, and you have been drinking.”

I struggled to loosen his grip. “You think I’m drunk? I’m not drunk.” If I was being honest, I wasn’t totally sober, either. “Is this because you think I’m too young? Too young to know how drunk I am? Too young to know when I want to fuck someone?”

He flinched at the words I instantly regretted. “I do not think you’re too young. Your age has nothing to do with this, Harlowe.” He pressed my wrists up over my head, so my arms were pinned above me, and he leaned over me. I couldn’t have resisted him even if I wanted to, which I did not in any way. It was his turn to whisper in my ear so that his lips buzzed against the shell and sent tremors slipping down my spine. “When I fuck you, I want you to be completely sober. I want to know that you’ll remember every moan and every gasp as I fill you and stretch you until you think you can’t take it.”

I drew in a sharp sip of air, my entire body burning as I writhed under him, wanting what he’d threatened with every traitorous cell of my being.

He nipped at my ear, his tusks scraping my flesh, but only hard enough to tease the line between pleasure and pain. “You should know, Harlowe, that when I fuck you, you will belong to me. Only me.”

He released my wrists and sat back before swinging his legs off the bed. Part of me wanted to call him back and tell him that I still wanted him, that I still wanted everything he’d promised me. But I hesitated as the haze of desire started to fray at the edges.

As much as I wanted to lose myself in mind-numbing sex, I was not ready to belong to anyone. Not even to the object of my darkest and most forbidden desires. Was I?

Roc didn’t look at me as he headed for the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor. “I need to shower. You should get some sleep.”

I was riveted to the sight of rippling muscles across his broad back and had to snatch my gaze from them when he turned and gave me a glimpse of his chest, the swell of his pecs like dark, green marble. So much for convincing myself that I didn’t want him.

“You don’t need to worry about me losing control again.” He flicked his gaze to the carpet. “I will take the floor.”

As he continued into the bathroom, I flopped back on the bed. Roc losing control wasn’t even close to my biggest worry. My fear was how much I wanted him to.