Defending Her Dignity (Renegade Love Bodyguard Novel Book 3) Read online

  “Lawrence, I need to tell you something—”

  Before any more words can leave her mouth, a dark shadow crosses over us. Reluctantly, I turn my head to see Peter standing above us. His face is tinged red and his tie is askew. Instantly I realize he’s blitzed. And seeing as I spent many a night with him, drunk off his ass, I know that when Peter is drunk, he wants to fight.

  “Well, it looks like Lawrence has found himself a little lady,” he says, barely coherent as his words slur together.

  Yael tugs her hand out of mine, and I want to curse Peter for ruining this moment. This fucker just doesn’t know when to quit.

  “What do you want, Peter?” I ask, not bothering to conceal the annoyance in my voice.

  Peter smiles down lasciviously at Yael, who keeps her eyes locked on me, understanding that this grade-A asshole is not someone I’m happy to see.

  It’s obvious he’s completely wasted. After all, shitfaced is pretty much his baseline. It disgusts me to think that I used to see this as completely normal behavior. I used to be an asshole like him. But not anymore. And tonight I don’t want to deal with his bullshit.

  He takes a long sip from his wine glass before answering me. “I want to see who this mesmerizing little lady you have with you is.” He nods at her approvingly, his eyes focused in on her breasts. “Very mesmerizing, indeed,” he adds, his groping eyes never leaving her chest.

  Yael’s face contorts in disgust and I reach for her hand. “Let’s go, Yael.”

  I stand up, pulling her up to walk away, but Peter’s hand shoots out, catching her by her arm. For a drunk, he’s quick.

  Yael drops my hand and turns to face Peter. “Let me go,” she orders. Peter chuckles and I can see the muscles in Yael’s body ripple. This poor fucker has no idea what he’s in for.

  “I just want to dance, sweetheart. You can’t come here showing off your tits like that and not expect a man like me to want his turn, too.” Peter tugs Yael toward him and puts his meaty hand on her hip, grazing too dangerously close to the curve of her ass.

  Yael gracefully sidles out of his clutch. She returns her hand in mine, but before we can walk away, Peter reaches out again and curls his fingers around her arm. At my side, Yael closes her eyes and expels a sharp breath. Turning around, she stares Peter down.

  “Please let go of my arm,” she asks, her voice calm and even.

  Peter smiles and tugs her toward him, sending her stumbling against him. I step forward, my blood pressure rising. I’m done with this prick. Yael holds up her hand and I stand back. The move doesn’t go unnoticed by Peter and he smiles arrogantly at me. “Finally learning to listen to a bitch for once, eh Law?”

  I catch the moment Yael’s frame tenses. She rips her arm out of Peter’s grasp. “I am not a bitch and you need to leave me alone,” she says.

  Peter’s face darkens, and he takes a threatening step toward Yael who, to her credit, doesn’t bat a lash. “I’ll show you what a bitch you are when I shove my cock—”

  He doesn’t get a chance to finish before Yael shoots up her knee and juts it into Peter’s groin. He lets out a loud squeal that gets drowned out by a well-timed saxophone solo. He falls forward onto her and Yael supports his heavy frame with her hand pressing against his throat, cupping it tightly and causing his already-red face to grow a deeper shade of crimson. She whispers in his ear, and Peter eagerly nods along. Once she finishes, she drops her hand from his throat and shoves him back. He stumbles a few steps and Yael walks back to my side.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the growing crowd watching Peter’s red face as he wheezes, desperately trying to catch his breath.

  “Who is that asshole?” she asks, ignoring my question.

  “My half-brother. So, nobody important.” I tug her hand, urging her to follow me back to the main lobby. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She nods and finally turns away from Peter. He’s still clutching his crotch and cursing. A small group of staff have surrounded him and are trying to escort him out of the party. He’s making a complete ass out of himself. Nothing new there.

  I keep Yael’s hand in mine as I guide her outside. As we wait for our driver, I shoot out a quick text to Gabby letting her know I’m unexpectedly leaving early. I can fill her in on the more colorful details later.

  At my side, Yael wraps her arms around herself. I slip out of my jacket and drape it over. She offers me a grateful smile, and all I want in this moment is to freeze this memory forever. I hate how this night was ruined for her, but the smile she graces me with is worth every terrible second. And as our car arrives and we shuffle into the back seat, I find myself hoping that this night isn’t entirely over.

  25

  Yael

  The ride back to the house is quiet and almost as uncomfortable as the ride to the gala. The partition between us and the driver is up, and the back of the car feels like a quiet tomb. We’re surrounded by the things we want to say, and they hang in the air between us, making the back of this car feel small and crowded.

  It’s Lawrence who finally breaks the silence. “Are you okay?” he asks, his green eyes watching me intently.

  I offer him a reassuring smile and nod. “You already asked me that,” I remind him.

  He thrusts a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is not how I wanted tonight to go.”

  I can’t help it. I try to bite back a laugh, but it escapes. Lawrence looks at me, an incredulous expression on his face, which only fuels the laughter. He looks so confused. “I had fun,” I tell him.

  “You had fun?” he asks, disbelievingly.

  I nod my head. “Yes. I haven’t kicked anyone’s ass in a long time. And they had really good puffs.”

  “Puffs?”

  “Yes, these puffs filled with cheese.” I close my eyes and lick my lips. “Like cheese balls. So delicious.”

  “So cheese balls and kicking someone’s ass is a good night for you?” Lawrence asks, a smile finally crawling up his face.

  I nod, biting my lip, feeling a bit guilty. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

  “How could you have embarrassed me?” Lawrence asks, his brows knit in confusion.

  “I kicked your brother in the balls.”

  Lawrence’s face darkens. “He is not my brother. He’s my half-brother. And trust me, he had that coming. You carried out a public service tonight.”

  “Well, thank you again for inviting me,” I say, seeing how upset Lawrence looks at the mention of his half-brother.

  Lawrence looks at me, his face stony and serious. Even in the darkness, his emerald eyes gleam as they look at me. The shadows only seem to enhance his hard features. “Thank you for coming.”

  I can hear the sincerity in his voice as easily as I can see it in his eyes. I turn away from him and look out the window, before he can see the truth in my eyes, of how much I want him, and how much that scares me.

  When I turn my head to look back at him, suddenly, the back of this car feels even smaller. Is he closer? Or am I imagining it? Has all the air escaped, or is it just that being this close to Lawrence addles all my senses?

  I don’t know what it would take for me to give myself to Lawrence, to give in to this temptation. But I know he would take a piece of my heart with him. It would be inevitable. The question now was, did I want to risk the heartache to have this one night with him? To be able to experience what it would feel like to have him inside of me, and have his chest pressed against mine, and our heart beats furiously pounding in our chests as we explored, dominated and made love to each other. Would I be able to give my body to him, without giving him my heart?

  Any other man and I would have been able to easily that question. With Lawrence, I’m not sure I can separate the two. And still, it’s a risk I want to take. At least for tonight. So when I drag my eyes up to his, to find them looking down at me, I suck in my lower lip and close my eyes.

  Just for tonight. Give in to him
tonight. If it’s not meant to be, there will be a sign from the universe.

  When I open my eyes, I move my hand to cup his cheek. As my palm connects with his face, he inhales a sharp breath, as if my touch is enough to unsettle him the same way he has completely tilted my world off its axis. But tonight, I don’t want to overthink — don’t want to agonize whether he feels the same I want to do. In fact, tonight I don’t want to think at all, I just want to feel: feel his lips on mine, his hands on my body.

  “If we do this, it can only be tonight,” I tell him, still biting down on my lip hard enough now to draw blood.

  His forehead creases as he looks at me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tonight. I want to have tonight with you. But nothing more than that.”

  Before he can open his mouth to answer, I lean forward and press my lips against his. I raise my left hand to cup the other side of his cheek, pulling him against him. As much as I want his lips on mine, I also want to silence any doubts or protests he may have. I don’t want to argue or debate: I want to have tonight with him, give my body the release it needs and do my best to guard my heart.

  He leans in to my kiss and his own hands grab onto my hips, pulling me against him. I let him pull me, let my body melt against his. I accept that, with Lawrence, my body is completely powerless. It’s a new feeling for me, and one that terrified me until now. But as his hands skim down my body, marking my skin with his scorching touch, I feel freer than I have in a long time.

  Needing more, I hike my skirt up before lifting my leg to straddle him. I squeeze my thighs against him, and press my hot, slick center against the growing bulge in his pants. When his hand slips between the slit of my dress and grips my thigh, I let out a moan that Lawrence captures with his mouth. He thrusts his tongue inside of my mouth, claiming it for his own as his hand massages the inside of my thigh, higher and higher until I feel his fingers connect with my warm heat. When he touches me, he pulls away and blows out a sharp breath.

  “You’re not wearing anything,” he whispers, the dark, heated passion swirling in his emerald eyes making him almost unrecognizable.

  I shake my head. “The dress was too tight. I didn’t want to have any panty lines,” I explain between pants as I desperately try to catch my breath.

  Lawrence chokes back a pained laugh. “You’re killing me, Yael,” he whispers against my neck. Slowly, he drags his finger down my slit, sending a spark of electricity and need coursing through my body. “If I had known you were naked under this dress the whole time, I don’t think I could have resisted taking you right there at the gala.”

  His words send another shiver of need straight through me and I grab him by his shirt and pull him toward me, impatient to have his lips back on mine. His words are too much of an aphrodisiac for me. He eagerly responds and continues to assault my mouth as his fingers continue to tease me, making me whimper against his lips.

  But I don’t want him to have all the fun. I lower my hands down his chest until I reach his pants. Desperately, I pull at the zipper. His hard, throbbing erection pushes against the fabric and when I finally unbutton his pants, I grip the base of his cock, eager to wrap my hands around him. Using the moisture budding at the tip, I slide my hand up and down his long shaft, relishing the sound of his groans as he bites down on my shoulder.

  “Yael,” he whispers into my skin, his voice gruff and hoarse with need as he thrusts into my hands. His own hands never stop their nimble assault, and when he dips one of his fingers inside of me, I nearly fall apart. My body is overtaken with need and if tonight is all I have, then I want it all.

  I need him. And now.

  “Condom?” I ask.

  My words take a moment to register and he shakes his head, as if to bring himself back to the present. “Right.” He lifts his hips up, taking me up with him as his right hand dives into his back pocket. He fumbles as he opens it and pulls out a silver wrapper.

  “Uh, hold on one sec,” he says before he lifts his hand to turn on an overhead light. He squints as he looks down at the wrapper before smiling. “Still got three months left,” he adds with a wink.

  I grab the condom out of his hand and bite the corner, tearing it open. “Don’t need three months. Ten minutes should be enough,” I say as I roll the condom over his length.

  Lawrence exhales sharply and laughs. “I know I didn’t set a good precedent with our last encounter, but trust me, I’m going to do my best to try to last more than a measly ten minutes.”

  I grip his sheathed cock and position it underneath me before sinking down. We both groan loudly when he’s fully inside me, and for the briefest moment, I hope the driver has his radio on. “Ten minutes is all we have,” I tell him, “before we make it back to the house. So make it fast, but make it good.”

  Lawrence’s eyes fall closed as his hands grip my hips, keeping me anchored over his cock. He almost looks pained and I bring my hand up to cup his cheek.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him.

  He opens his eyes and smiles and I feel my heart squeeze in my chest at how loving his eyes look when they see me. “I’m great,” he says. “I just have been imagining this for about two months now. And I know we have ten minutes, but I just needed to make a little mental memory here.”

  I roll my eyes and drop my hands to grip his shoulders. “Well, I want to make a new memory,” I say, my voice low as I roll my hips and let my head fall back as waves of pleasure wash over me. He feels so good inside of me, stretching every inch of me. But I need more. So I continue to roll my hips, rising slightly before sinking down again, my inner walls clenching around him, gripping him tightly as if they, too, know this is our only night and not wanting to let go, either.

  As I continue to move, riding him as our driver navigates the highway back to the house, the sleeve of my dress slips, exposing my left breast. Lawrence takes full advantage, dipping his head and darting out his warm tongue to suck my nipple into his hot mouth. He feels amazing and my forehead falls against his shoulder, as my hips move faster and faster, finding a rhythm of their own. Lawrence’s hands fall to lift my dress higher so he can grip my bare ass, his fingers digging into my flesh, helping to move me faster up. His own hips rise up, matching my thrusts and slamming his cock impossibly deeper inside of me.

  He pulls his mouth away from my nipple and bites my ear. “You feel so amazing, Yael,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re so tight, I feel every inch of you. Do you feel me, Yael? Do you feel how deep I am inside of you?”

  I moan in response, my brain no longer capable of forming coherent thoughts. I am literally being fucked senseless and I have zero complaints. Lawrence groans, a sexy, masculine sound that makes me amazingly even wetter. The sound of our love-making is raw and guttural: desperate moans and the sound of skin hitting against skin. The back of the car grows hot, the unmistakable smell of sex filling making the air thick.

  And suddenly, every sense of mine is filled with Lawrence: his touch, his smell, his taste, his sight- he envelopes me. Dominates me. And I love it. And when he lifts his hips again, pairing the thrust of his cock with a low moan, I collapse and shatter into a thousand shards of pure pleasure. With a yelp that is ten octaves higher than any sound I’ve ever made, I dig my nails into his shoulders and collapse against him, as all the muscles in my body twitch and flicker as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me, rendering my body useless putty. And when I fall against him, panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat from exertion and the heat, I feel Lawrence’s entire body tense an instant before he bites down on my shoulder, muffling a low, long moan as he thrusts one last time inside of me.

  We stay locked in each other’s arms for a long moment, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breathes. It’s only then that I notice the car is stopped. Not yet pulling myself off Lawrence, I lean over to press the button to lower the window an inch. The rush of cool air is welcome on my sticky skin and I can see that we’re parked in the lo
ng driveway outside of the house.

  “We’re back,” I say.

  Lawrence arches his brow. “Great,” he says. He lets out a chuckle as he looks at me. “That was incredible.”

  He leans toward me and drops his forehead against mine as his arms wrap around me, pulling me against him. It feels so intimate and I can still feel him inside of me. And in this post-orgasm reality, I feel the panic start to rise within me.

  Now what?

  I delicately extricate myself out of his embrace, doing my best to try and mask the surging panic I feel growing within me.

  “Are you okay?” Lawrence asks as I pull myself off of him and adjust my dress, pulling the strap up to cover myself.

  I offer him a smile and nod. “Just want to get cleaned up,” I tell him.

  “Sure,” he says, dragging out the word as he examines me. I force myself to not reveal the thousands of thoughts that are popping into my head every millisecond. What does this mean? Where do we stand now? Will he be expecting a repeat performance? Does he know this was just for tonight? Does he know that I’m incapable of a longterm commitment? Do I even know what commitment is? Am I able to be in a healthy relationship with a man?

  I press a quick, reassuring kiss to his cheek and grab my small bag. “I’ll meet you inside?” I ask, before opening the door and jumping out. I can hear him calling my name as I walk away. Despite the pain caused by these nightmare heels, I keep a clipped pace as I walk back up to the house. I quickly pound in the garage gate code and once inside, slip off my shoes and run upstairs to my room. I start the shower and jump inside the minute it’s warm.

  And as the water streams down around me, I grab the bar of soap and run it over my body. I need to erase his touch, need to erase the memory of how good it felt to have him touch me, how good it felt to have him inside of me. Because if I remember it, I’ll be a miserable woman. No way will there ever be another man that could measure up, that could make me feel the way he could.