The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(39)

For her part, Juliet flushed slightly. “You know what they are. What do they look like?”

“Panties.” Hank replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Pretty fucking panties.” He reached down towards the box almost reverently, hesitating a moment before he touched anything. When he glanced at Juliet, her blush seemed to have lessened somewhat. She looked half as anticipatory as he felt. “Can I…?”

Almost immediately, the vixen turned to him with a wry smile. “Wear them? Hank, I didn’t know you liked that stuff-” He cut her off with a low growl as his hand grasped firmly at her hip in warning.

“Just for that, I get to pick which ones you’re modeling for me.”

Juliet’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Modeling?”

Hank’s expression turned fairly predatory. “You asked what I had in mind.”

She could have asked him to leave. Reminded him that he was overstepping both of their boundaries. Instead, Juliet merely slipped from his grasp to stand before him with her hip saucily cocked, her expression suddenly far more sultry than he’d ever seen.

“Alright, so pick.”

That was how he ended up sitting on Juliet’s bed watching her model her skimpy, delicious underwear for him. She went into her closet to change - how she managed that, he wasn’t quite certain - but every five minutes or so she emerged in a set of lingerie skimpier than the last.

Considering the clothes she’d picked for herself, Hank never would have imaged Juliet would pick thongs and brazilian cut briefs. That she’d be just as fond of lace as she was of her comfortable flats. Hank found himself far too transfixed by the contrast of the bright lace against her coffee and cream skin to do much more than simply stare.

He wasn’t supposed to touch her, but he’d be damned if he could stop himself now. The way those cute little bras boosted her breasts and tantalized him with the vee of her cleavage...how the minute muscles on her thighs contracted when she turned to show him the cut of her risqué underwear...Hank was hard less than ten minutes into the show.

In truth, he’d forgotten that he’d ever have to leave Juliet’s room.

When she stepped from the closet in her final pair of the evening, Hank’s eyes roamed her almost bare skin hungrily. Her bra - if you could even call it that barely existed. He could all but see the dark outline of nipples hardened by the chill air. And her panties...fucking God…

“You’d better not wear those with a dress,” He finally growled lowly. “Easy fucking access.”

Juliet merely laughed at his antics before her smile took on a more seductive edge. She walked towards him slowly – sultrily - the limp from her injured ankle all but gone. By the time she reached him, Hank’s hands itched to touch her. To skim over the generous swells of her breasts, curl into the fullness of her hips and jerk her towards him…

“You can’t.”

Juliet’s low, firm tone jarred him back to the present. “Can’t what?” His own voice was hoarse with want.

“Touch me,” Juliet’s slender hands cupped his face, the softness of her palms torturing him. “Not until you promise to come back.”

He was supposed to hesitate. To remind himself that he couldn’t get emotionally involved and making promises he couldn’t keep was beyond idiotic. But how the hell was he supposed to do that when the thing he wanted most in that moment was a mere hairsbreadth away?

“I promise.” He uttered the words without hesitation, tugging her into his lap to feel her against him.

Her touch was scalding - so much so that he couldn’t decide if he wanted to push her away or draw her closer. Considering he hadn’t touched her for weeks, Hank’s baser instincts quickly took hold. His arms were around her a moment before he was jerking her against him, his mouth slanting hard against hers.

He was being rough - far too rough, he knew. But he hardly cared.

How many times had he thought of her these past few weeks? Hank was hoping that escaping the safehouse would mean he could finally concentrate, but, instead, he found that Juliet haunted his thoughts no matter how much distance he put between them. When he was supposed to be avoiding anything that might blow his cover, he kept picturing the way she looked lying in bed next to him, sleeping with the early morning sun in her dark curls.

He was so fucked - and some small, vindictive part of him wanted to punish Juliet for the effect she had on him. He’d never laid hands on a woman in his life, so all he had was this…

And this was too good to be anything but amazing for either of them.

Juliet moaned softly, her arms snaking up to encircle his neck as she tugged him down against her. She didn’t seem to mind that he was almost crushing her. She was far more absorbed in tangling her tongue with his - driving him out of his fucking mind with those soft curves pressed against him.

Somewhere in the fray, Hank forgot that he was supposed to be clutching his towel. The decadent curve of Juliet’s ass was far more inviting. While his fingers curled into it, dark terry cloth fluttered to the floor. It gave Hank’s erection the room it needed to press eagerly up against Juliet’s warmth and he groaned as she gathered even closer to him, relishing the contact. When she stood on her toes, Hank lifted her from her feet, his mouth moving to the curve of her jaw, then hungrily down her neck.