Shameless (The Alpha Bodyguard Series Book 8) by Sybil Bartel

Author:Sybil Bartel [Bartel, Sybil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Alpha Bodyguard Series, Book Eight
Publisher: Sybil Bartel
Published: 2020-08-16T18:30:00+00:00

OH.

My.

God.

Desire surged between my legs, and I didn’t know if I hated his dirty talk and crudeness or if I wanted him more for it.

My secret thick on my tongue, unable to think of a single response because I was fixated on what having his dominant mouth between my legs would feel like, I did the first smart thing I’d done since waking up this morning.

I retreated.

Doing what I should’ve done an hour ago, I walked back upstairs.

To my disappointment, he didn’t stop me.

My bottom lip on fire, my neck still tingling where he’d held me with intent, my core pulsing with hungry, incessant need, I went straight to the masculine bedroom that screamed Shade Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was, and sat my ass down on the bed.

Covering my face with my hands, I rocked forward and relived my embarrassment. “Jesus, Summer, what the fuck?” I whispered. A hot second out of rehab, and I was already screwing up so badly, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never surface.

What the hell was I thinking, coming on to man like Shade?

That he’d what? Take me to bed and fuck me nice?

I was an idiot.

And his ex?

I hated her and her designer dress and Jimmy Choo heels. Older, more sophisticated, she wasn’t some skank. She was in the same league as my stepmother, and Fallon was a supermodel. No, she was the supermodel. Elegant, graceful, reserved, she was everything I wasn’t. I’d spent my entire adolescence trying to be like her before I gave up.

I would never be that.

I may have been raised with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I didn’t have the kind of patience to have poise, and I sure as hell didn’t have the compassion my stepmother did with her charity that helped sick kids.

Not that Shade’s psycho ex looked like she spent a single second on the charity circuit, but she was beautiful. Beautiful and put together, and he didn’t have to pick her ass up from rehab.

“Fuck my life,” I whispered.

“Hell of a thing to say, princess.” His deep voice rumbled from the open doorway.

Jumping out of my skin, I started. My hand flew to my chest, and my breath caught, but the real shock came when I looked up.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he pushed off the doorway and walked into the bedroom. “What’s wrong with your life?”

My mouth suddenly dry, I watched him toss his shirt at a chair without looking. It landed perfectly as he stepped out of one boot, then the other.

If I thought he was striking dressed, he was a fucking masterpiece shirtless.

Covered in ink, ripped, abs for days, shoulders that were a mile wide, he wasn’t beautiful, he was unreal.

My hand went to my throat. “What are you doing?”

He smirked as he set his gun and phone on the nightstand before reaching for his belt. “What does it look like?”

“I’m not asking to get fucked,” I blurted, my mind confused by his flip in attitude but my traitorous body giving a standing ovation.

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