The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(30)

She was still trembling by the time he collapsed atop her, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

Though Juliet was barely conscious, she had enough presence of mind to know that Hank Compton had probably just ruined her for any and all men that might come after him. She clutched him as their bodies cooled, her eyes closed, heart pounding…

And experienced, for the first time in the past eight years, a moment of resounding peace. Nothing mattered beyond the tiny, dusty room, the man still inside her, and the pleasure humming through her body.

She had never known sex could be like that - pleasure so intense that it literally brought her to tears. If she’d had any strength left, she might even have thanked Hank for so irrevocably opening her eyes.

As it was, however, Juliet was so exhausted that she could barely lift a finger. When Hank moved from her, a soft sound of protest escaped her. The room suddenly felt icy cold, and she realized, dimly, that she was covered in a layer of cooling sweat and nothing else. When she attempted to sit up, Hank’s low command stopped her. “Don’t move.”

She had never been gladder to obey him.

The man stood from the bed, searching the floor until he found her nightgown. With surprising gentility, he used the soft cotton to wipe the sweat from her body. That done, he dressed her in his own t-shirt before flipping the blanket over her.

Juliet wasn’t anywhere near na?ve enough to believe there wouldn’t be repercussions. Soon, the sun would be high in the sky and they’d have to face the reality of what they’d just done. For now, however, she needed sleep.

While she still had peace.

Juliet drifted off while Hank still watched her, unaware of the conflicted expression marring his handsome face.

**

He was a fucking moron.

Even hours later, Hank found himself torn between returning to the bedroom to wake Juliet with his renewed erection and berating the shit out of himself.

He’d been doing this too long to make rookie mistakes - put too much of himself into his job to jeopardize it. Though the call of a man’s cock was strong, Hank liked to believe he didn’t always think with his lower head - not when more important things were involved.

But it was too late to make excuses now. What was done was done - he just had to figure out how to keep from doing it again. Considering that he’d been staving off the desire to slip inside the woman while she slept the entire morning, the task was going to be easier said than done, and so he’d set himself to busy work to keep from doing anything completely idiotic.

He unpacked the few essentials he’d brought with him and laid his equipment out on the kitchen table. Even though Hank hadn’t been to a fancy school or trained specifically to be a cop, Simmons had made sure he was fast-tracked through the training he needed. He had never been a straight A student, but he had street smarts and intuition. He had also surprised the older man by being one hell of a tactical thinker when his ass was on the line - if never elsewise. It was a trait that had come from years of watching he and his sister’s back when a bullet could come through the window at any time.

He’d made it through the three year course in a year and a half, and even enjoyed himself somewhat. What wasn’t enjoyable about whipping academy boys’ asses at their own games?

Part of that essential training had been dealing with the weapons that had terrified him as a child. After his sister had been killed, Hank swore he would never pick up a gun. He didn’t want to be anything like the murdering Solomon Aguiler. Simmons, however, had taught him that a gun could do good in the right hands - as long as he wasn’t too hot-headed.

Though he was still reluctant, Hank had become more than proficient. He was one of the best shots in the department - quite the feat, considering that he wasn’t even technically an honorary member. He’d taken his weapons apart and put them together so many times by now that the action was methodical - he did it without thinking.

Which, unfortunately, hadn’t been his intention.

While his hands moved over the pieces of machinery before him, Hank’s mind returned to the bedroom down the hall.

The way she had looked at him. They had, Hank realized, been dancing around each other this entire damned time. Sure they’d gotten off to one hell of a rough start, but beneath that steady toleration of one another, lust had burned hot enough to consume the entire fucking cabin. In hindsight, Hank wondered how he had lasted so long.

That answer, funnily enough, came to him in short order: She had given him an in. From the day they met one another, Juliet put up a tough front. Certainly, Solomon had victimized her but she refused to play that victim - for him or anyone else. It wasn’t until she was made to recount the horrors of her life with the Aguilers that he realized just how vulnerable she really was.

Hank had never been a sucker for doe-eyed vixens, but Juliet wasn’t seeking comfort. He had gone to her...and then they both had given in.

Thankfully, his phone beeped before he could get too lost in his ruminations. At a message from Simmons, Hank frowned.

Setting scouts on four of the locations package recounted. Get ready to go in this evening.

The old man had always worked fast.

Considering that this could be an in to the man who had taken his sister from him, Hank found himself surprisingly calm. He reminded himself that the operation had just started - it would, no doubt, be weeks before he could get close enough to Solomon to take him down.