Chapter 12

Isabella

I wake up nestled beneath Vance's strong arm. Memories of last night fill my head and quicken my pulse. I've never felt anything like that. His warm tongue took me to a place I've never been.

I rub my fingers along my palm, where he spilled his come before I wiped it off on my discarded shirt. I never thought I'd enjoy pleasing a man like that. I loved the way his hips pulsed into my fist and the feral groans that left his lips from my touch.

How could my hand make a man as strong as him so weak? He felt like putty in my grasp, like I could have asked him anything at that moment and he'd have said yes.

I probably could have asked him to fuck me, but I chickened out. I don't know if I can take something as big as him inside me.

My ears perk up at a sound outside the door. I shake Vance's shoulder and he stirs.

"What's the matter?" he asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"I heard something," I whisper.

Vance sits up and slips into protector mode. It's incredible to see someone go from sub zero to a thousand in two breaths. He grabs his pistol off the table beside my bed. I sure as hell didn't notice that last night.

"When did you get your gun?" I ask.

Vance rises to his feet and racks his pistol. "Last night, after you fell asleep. I was too distracted by the thought of your pussy to remember my rule. Never leave your gun behind."

"What if it's?—"

Vance dismisses me with a quick wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter who it is. I'll protect you. You know that. Just stay here and let me handle it."

I know he can. Vance is a born protector. A natural possessor. But there's only so much he can do without putting a target on his back. He'd never be safe again if he had to defend me from my fiancé's family.

He creeps forward with calculated steps, and his fingers wrap around the knob before he draws the door toward him and steps into the hall. The sounds have stopped, but I still hear the rapid thud of my heartbeat inside my ears. I get out of bed, dress, and grab my gun from the drawer. He said to stay back, but I've never been one to listen.

"I told you to stay put," he growls when I reach him in the foyer. His eyes dart from me to the front door. When he rips it open, he scans outside with the barrel of his pistol.

Vance comes back inside and heads toward the kitchen, his gun held at the ready as he sweeps the room. Our eyes simultaneously land on a box sitting on the kitchen island. When I step toward it, he shakes his head.

He gets to it first, spreading the box apart and exposing a single plump strawberry covered in chocolate. There's a note along the side of the box.

For my wife.

He leaves the box on the counter and takes a step back, but his eyes widen as he spots my pistol at my side. "Oh, we're not doing this," he says as he steps into me and runs his hand down my arm to grip my gun. "I'm the only armed one here, little girl."

"I have a right to defend myself!" I'm annoyed with him. No one in my family likes to be told they can't carry. It's ingrained in us.

Vance takes a harsh breath and rips the pistol from my grasp. "You don't need to defend yourself when you have me glued to your side." He pockets my pistol. "Do you know what this little gift means?"

"Yeah. It means my future husband knows my favorite dessert." I step closer to the island, pick up the chocolate-covered strawberry by the dark green stem, and look at Vance.

He opens his mouth to yell at me, but I bite into the delicious fruit before he can.

"No, it means he has a key to your home, Bella." He rips the strawberry's plump base from my hand and deposits it in the trash can. "You don't eat shit from strangers when there are people willing to kill you out there."

"Someone's always willing to kill me," I say, putting my hand on my hip. "I don't live my life in fear."

Vance grips my cheeks with a strong hand. "Learn to. I'm not asking you to be scared of everything, but be wise enough to keep your ass with me and not eat poisoned fruit."

I throw my hands up to my throat and cough, turning the dramatics way up as I pretend to choke.

He releases my face with an annoyed huff. "Stop being a brat."

"No can do," I whisper as I fall to the floor in feigned death.

He pounces on me, pinning my hips with his weight. "Do you not understand the gravity of what just happened? If that was your husband to be, he could have seen us in your bed. Do you know how bad that would be for me? For us?"

I deflate beneath him and sigh. He's right, but I don't think he saw us. He would have killed us then and there, not left a gift. "I know, but?—"

"There's no but. What happened last night can never happen again."

I meet his gaze. "You didn't like it?"

He scoffs. "I fucking loved it, and that's the problem."

Despite his words, he leans into me and raises my hands above my head. His lips draw closer to mine, and his tongue slips out to swipe chocolate from my lower lip. I expect him to kiss me, but he doesn't. He draws away from me.

"Whatever this is, it has to be over," he says. "From now on, this is a strictly platonic gig between us. And until we get new locks on your door, you won't be out of my sight for a moment."