Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn
Excerpt: Panty Dropper
Available Now
Billy
The coffee grounds whooshed into the bottom of the white filter as I tipped the scoop. I pushed the tray in and set the pot to brew while I did my best not to read too much into the feelings I was having about Reagan being in my home. It felt...right. It felt totally natural coming home with her, working together to get my sister settled and then coming to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
And that was unnatural as hell.
People might find it hard to believe, given my reputation and my nickname, but I rarely had women in my home. It’s not that it never happened, but I did my best to avoid it.
My home was a sacred place to me. It was my domain. It was personal. Intimate. On the rare occasions that I did have female company, I tried to limit the time we spent here. No woman had ever spent the night in my bed. I prided myself on never leading someone on. The women I slept with knew what they were getting.
No strings. No commitment. No overnights.
And just like some clubs had a two drink minimum, I had a two fuck maximum. Anything more than that and the waters started getting murky.
I stood, listening to the bubbling water as my pulse raced, fueled by anxiety that I haven’t felt since I was a freshman in high school and Lana Swanson, who was a senior and head cheerleader, asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance. It was the one and only time I’d ever been nervous around the opposite sex. And it was the night I’d lost my virginity.
It hit me then, why I felt like I was jumping out of my skin. The same rules I’d lived my entire life by didn’t apply to Reagan. Tonight, I was a virgin, of sorts.
I wanted more with Reagan. I wanted murky. I wanted strings, commitments, and I sure as hell wanted overnights. It was damn unnerving.
The cabinet creaked as I pulled it open and grabbed two mugs from the second shelf.
With a quick glance over my shoulder I asked, “How do you like it?”
The only light in the room came from the tiny bulb above the stovetop. I hadn’t flipped on the overhead light so as not to disturb Cheyenne, not that anything would’ve.
But even in the dimly lit atmosphere I could clearly see the blush that rose on Reagan’s cheeks and I would’ve bet my last dollar that her mind had turned my innocent question into one with sexual undertones. It was the same look she’d had when I’d said safety first. That one I’d meant as a double entendre, this one was accidental.
“Um, sugar and cream if you got it.”
I grinned. “Oh, I’ve got cream.” That one was intentional, too.
Her face lit with a deeper pink hue and I knew she’d clearly understood the double meaning. Just knowing that was where her mind was going sent all sorts of signals to my brain that I tried to ignore. It didn’t work.
When I turned back to the counter to pour her cup, my rock-hard shaft knocked against the drawer pull and I held in a moan. Reaching down I adjusted myself and became painfully aware of the zipper restraining my thickening cock.
My body was not happy about me offering coffee instead of picking Reagan up, tossing her over my shoulder, and carrying her upstairs. That was the vibe I’d been getting from her, but I’d ignored it because I didn’t want her to jump into my bed due to loosened inhibitions caused by the three Jack and Cokes she’d downed at the bar.
I knew she wasn’t drunk. But if we were going to do this tonight, I didn’t want it to be something she regretted in the morning. If we were going to do this, I wanted her stone cold sober.
Hey, who said chivalry was dead? Unfortunately, I was being punished for my good deed by way of blue balls.
I’d just finished sprinkling a teaspoon of sugar in Reagan’s cup and was taking it to her when a loud snore came from the front room.
“She is out for the count.” Reagan’s wide smile beamed up at me as I handed her the mug of steaming java.
My heart constricted as I gazed down at her. The dark outline that I’d seen around the rim of her lashes at the beginning of the night had worn off and the effect left her eyes looking larger and more inviting. The dark red lipstick that had been like a siren call to every man in the bar had faded, leaving a cranberry stain on her full, plump lips. And sometime during the night she’d pulled the hair that had framed her face when she’d come into the bar up in a loose pile on top of her head, exposing the seductive curve of her bare neck.
I was absolutely mesmerized by this woman.
The first time I’d laid eyes on her, she was sitting at the head of the conference table and I’d been stunned by how drop dead gorgeous she was. The next time I saw her, when she’d walked into the bar, I was rendered speechless by her effortless grace and allure. And now, sitting at my kitchen table, she stole my breath away with the undeniable natural beauty and raw vulnerability she possessed. I was starting to think she was my kryptonite.
Unable to stop myself from touching her, I brushed a stray strand of hair off of her cheek, and the pad of my thumb ran along her jawline. Her skin was silky smooth. She shuddered beneath my touch.
“God, you are so beautiful.”
Her eyes dipped and I dropped my hand to my side before lowering down in the chair catty-corner to her. I chose that one instead of the one across from her because I wanted to be as close as possible to her. She had a magnetic aura about her that every fiber of my being was drawn to.
She cleared her throat and ran her hand through her hair before looking back up. I watched as she licked her lips. My joystick jumped at the sight of her pink tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth. I imagined what it would feel like, her tongue circling the tip of my dick or running along my shaft as I pumped my cock in and out of her mouth.
“Thank you, but...” A small grin lifted on her mouth as she reached up and touched the side of her hair where stray hairs fell down to her neck. “I’m a hot mess.”
“Then hot mess looks damn good on you.”
She let out a small laugh. “I’m glad you think so, that’s nice.”
“Darlin’.” My throat was tight causing a deep rasp in my voice. I pushed the words out and they sounded as if they’d been filtered through sandpaper. “There’s nothin’ nice about what I’m thinkin’.”
Her breath caught and her eyes widened. Every cell in my body was screaming for me to reach across the table and pull her to me, thread my fingers in her hair and claim her in a soul-bending kiss. I wanted to kiss her until she didn’t remember her name and I knew that I could do just that.
The attraction between us was real, it was palpable, it was combustible. One touch of our lips and we’d go up in flames. But before that happened, I wanted to stoke that flame. I didn’t want to burn out, I wanted to build this up so the heat lasted.
If it were any other woman sitting in front of me, I’d act on my primal impulses. But something inside of me told me that Reagan was different, and if I had a shot of showing her that, I needed to do things differently.
We sat staring at one another and the energy between us was thick with anticipation.
Another loud snore popped the bubble of intimacy that had formed around us. Reagan let out a tiny giggle as she sipped her coffee before setting it down. “Poor thing. I think tonight was a lot for her.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Did people give her a hard time?” My brotherly instincts might’ve been dormant for twenty years, but they were back with a vengeance now.
“No.” Reagan shook her head and a stray strand of hair fell over her forehead. “Everyone was really sweet and welcoming. They told her how happy they were that she was home and a lot of them commented that she looked exactly like your mom.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too.”
“Does she?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in a way that was equally adorable and sexy. The curious look on her face was so open and vulnerable, and the smooth skin on her exposed neck was like a beacon calling me to mark it.
I cleared my throat as I tried to resist all of the vampire-inspired fantasies that were running through my brain. “I think she does. My memories are a little fuzzy,” I admitted before taking a drink of caffeine I probably didn’t need to be putting into my bloodstream considering how amped up I was already feeling.
When I set it back down I noticed the concern brimming in Reagan’s deep blue eyes. She set her cup down and leaned forward. “How are you doing with...everything?”
Since Pop had passed, a lot of people had asked me that question. My responses had been automatic, I’m fine. I hadn’t put any real thought into it. But with Reagan, I didn’t do that. With Reagan I answered honestly. “Today hit me kinda hard.”
“Were you close to your dad?”
“No.” A smirk pulled at my lips. “Since I wasn’t a bottle he really didn’t have much use for me or my brothers. But I don’t know...somethin’ about the finality of the will,” I lowered my voice, “and Cheyenne coming back, it really sunk in that he’s gone.”
“That makes sense.”
“Does it?” I shook my head. “Because I thought I was prepared for this. I mean, to be honest, I thought I’d be relieved. Relieved that I didn’t have to worry about getting a call that he drove his truck off the side of the road and hurt himself, or worse, hurt someone else. Relieved that I didn’t have to worry about making sure he really took his medication and wasn’t lying about it, or worse, selling it on the side. Relieved that I didn’t have to worry about him taking money out of the safe or till to use for poker, or about him and his friends drinking our inventory dry.” I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow exhale as I ran my fingers through my hair. “But I’m not. I’m not relieved he’s gone.”
A sad smile lifted on her lips and she tilted her head to the side as her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “People don’t have to be perfect for you to love them.”
Her words shot a cupid’s arrow straight into my chest. Her understanding and support was indescribable. It wrapped around me like a hot towel after an ice bath, thawing out my frozen heart.
All my life, people had judged me, my brothers, and my old man. But there was none of that in Reagan’s stare. I’d just told her that Pop was a lying, thieving, alcoholic drug dealer and she hadn’t batted an eye. Maybe it was because she was an outsider, or maybe it was because she was a genuinely decent human being. I couldn’t be sure. Normally I trusted my instincts, but I feared that I couldn’t do that with Reagan. She’d short-circuited all my wires, why else would I be hearing wedding bells and picturing her walking toward me in a white dress and veil every time I looked at her?
I grinned, trying to mask the depth of emotion she’d exposed in me. “But I don’t want to think about all that. Tell me about you.” I wanted, no needed, to get to know her more than I’d ever wanted or needed anything. In the short time she’d been in my life, I’d become consumed with the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty sitting at my kitchen table. “What’s your story?”
Don’t miss Billy & Reagan’s Story – Available Here