And it’s not even that she’s famous — that her face is all over billboards and tabloid papers and her voice all over the fucking radio.
Nah, it ain’t any of those things, though they play a part. Not the fame, not the money, not the entitlement. It’s that she just oozes brat from every pore. It’s that looking at her makes me crave her. It’s that the sight of her makes my cum boil and my cock ache.
It’s that the beast inside of me that I’ve kept locked away for years and years is rattling its cage, looking to finally break free.
…It’s knowing that with her, I’m going to let it.
3
Alyssa
Heat explodes through me, and I can feel my body tingle at the feel of him. My head spins, and not just because he’s carrying me across the yard upside down over his shoulder. My head spins with all sorts of conflicting feelings. One is indignation at being carried like this, like he’s a caveman stalking off with his claimed woman. But the other part is… Well…
The other part thinks that thought about him storming off with his claimed cave-girl is all sorts of hot. And wrong, and fucked up, and dirty.
But hot.
I sputter, kicking at him and squirming against him.
“Put me the fuck down!”
He ignores me, of course, and we’re still moving. I squirm again, blushing as my near-naked body writhes against his bare muscles. God, he’s so big. So freaking strong. So built. Heat rumbles through me as I feel those thick muscles ripple against my bare skin.
I shake my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I so warm? So tingling.
…Why am I getting wet?
He storms into the house through the big glass side doors that lead out to the pool area.
“Here,” he growls, and I gasp as he swings me off his shoulder and sets my bare feet down on the hardwood floor.
“You can’t just manhandle people!” I spit at him. My eyes slide up his huge, perfect body, and I blush.
“You weren’t listening. And it’s not secure out there.”
“Which gives you permission to just pick me up like that?”
“Yep.”
He doesn’t even blink, and I shiver as those piercing blue eyes lance into me. He looks smug, like he’s enjoying this.
Prick.
He’s gorgeous, in this rough, wild, untamed way, but that’s not going to do a single thing to tame the fire blazing up inside of me.
“Listen, asshole,” I hiss. “I’m going to have you sued so hard your—”
“I’m your bodyguard.”
“The hell you are.”
He smiles that smug grin again. “Yeah, princess, I am. For the next week, I’m your damn shadow.”
“So for the next week I can’t go outside? Do you know how crazy you sound?”
“Says the girl getting death threats and worse from some crazy stalker?”
My mouth snaps shut.
“Yeah I know all about it. That why I’m here, princess. You wanna pan that off, fine. But not under my watch. And outside, it ain’t safe. You’ve got lines of sight all over. That piece of shit could’ve been watching you out there.”
I shiver. The notes we’ve been getting…they’re not good. They’re horrific, actually, detailing all the horrible things this creep wants to do to me.
“So, no,” he growls in that rumbling voice. “You’re not going outside, not dressed like that, that is.”
My brow furrows as I scowl at him. “What do you mean like this?”
He just looks at me, arching a brow. His eyes drop to my tits, and I smirk.
“Want a closer look?” I say sarcastically
“Sure.”
I blink as my lips shut quickly, taken aback. But I can see from that smug look on his face that that was exactly the point of him throwing that back at me.
“So, what, you’re one of those guys who thinks a girl can’t go outside showing some skin?”
“No, I’m one of those guys who thinks it’s not smart to do it when there’s a creep out there who’s made it well known that he wants to hurt you.”
I shiver, arms crossing over my chest.
“But that’s not going to happen,” he growls.
“I thought you were the mover.”
“I was.”
“And now you’re my bodyguard?”
“Appears that way, doesn’t it?” he mutters, turning and scanning the big living room.
He’s still not really looking at me, at least, not like other guys. I mean even Danny stares at me like he’s taking my clothes off. But this guy…he’s like a monk or something.
This guy.
I frown.
“What’s your name, by the way?”
“Diesel.”
I snort. “Well that sounds like prison name.”
“It is.”
I swallow, shivering as he turns back to me. God, those eyes. That jaw. That freaking body. And Jesus, does he ever wear a shirt?
…does he even have to for this week?
He moves to the alarm system on the wall, and starts to poke around.
“What are you doing?”
“My job,” he growls, his tone like I’m an annoyance. A nuisance. And it gets under my skin as I watch him move to the window and start checking the sensors.