Page 38 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

Or should I take her in my arms, where I swear to God she belongs?

She kisses my cheek. “Give yourself a chance, G.”

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and there’s a flicker in her bright, hazel eyes. She kisses the corner of my mouth like she’s sealing a promise, then pulls back with a glint that turns her from confessor into temptress.

“If all I’m going to do is have fuck buddies for the rest of my life,” she grips my cock firmly, “I’m asking you to be one of them.”

Fuck buddies.

She throws it down like a gauntlet, knowing it’ll tear through every line of restraint I’ve drawn between us.

My voice is gritty. “You think I’d share you?”

All the reasons not to give in are stacked in my mind. But none of them matter when she looks at me like that.

She’s testing me. And for as much credit as I give myself… she wins.

She always does. I’m defenseless with her.

“You think I’d let you give this…” I grip tight between her legs. “…to anyone else?

“No, I don’t.” She wraps her small fingers around my shaft. “But that’s the point.”

I twist her over and pin her to the bed. “The point is for me to be your fuck buddy?”

“The point, G…” Her breath is a dare against my cheek. “…is to fuck.”

My heart pounds like it’s already made the choice for me.

This isn’t like last night’s heat of the moment. Last night was survival, raw and reckless. This… this is surrender. This is me knowing the cost and walking straight into the fire anyway.

But isn’t she right? What is freedom and peace without choice?

And I choose her.

I secure her wrists above her head with one hand and grind my cock against her core through my briefs. For a second, I just look at her. Golden hair spread wild over the pillow, lips parted, chest rising in shallow, shaky breaths. Mine. She’s always been mine.

But it’s never been just about the fuck. It’s about this—her under me, eyes blazing, trusting me to take her and not destroy her in the process.

“You want to be fucked?” I growl.

For a second, I think of telling her this isn’t just about sex. That it’s love like no other. But I don’t.

My restraint shatters like glass underfoot. There’s no going slow now. No turning back. If she wants to see the part of me I keep locked behind steel walls, she just kicked the fucking door open.

She nods, pupils blown. Her thighs open.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I drag my tongue up the side of her neck. “You knew if you gave me a taste, I’d come back starving.”

She’s always known me. She knows how to cast a spell and reduce me to a man with one thought, one need, one woman.

I slide the hoodie up and over her head. And when I reach down, I don’t give her pants and panties the same courtesy. I shove the pants down, wrap my fingers around the sides of the panties and rip them off.

“G,” she gasps, arching.

I tear my t-shirt overhead and slide my boxer briefs off, my cock springing out between us.

“Spread your legs.” I order. “Let me see what’s mine.”

She opens for me, trusting me, and my chest aches like I don’t deserve it. But fuck if I’ll ever let anyone else near her again.

I stroke through her soaked folds, circle her clit. “You’re already this wet for me?”

I pinch her sensitive nub, and she jolts.

Easing my way down between her legs, I stare up at her, hungry, obsessed, devoted. I spread open her pussy lips. “Nobody gets this. Not ever again.”

Dragging my tongue through her folds, she tastes of paradise. Lust. Love. I lap her up greedily and she moans and bucks under me. Her legs tremble on either side of my shoulders.

I put a finger inside her and she groans. Her pussy is soaked and I slide in another finger, easing them in and out. With every swipe of my tongue is a taste of heaven.

I could stay down here for days. I feast on her, absolutely feral for her.

Then, her clit pulses on my tongue like she’s been struck by lightning and I lap up the nectar gushing out around my fingers.

My gaze follows the smooth skin of her stomach all the way up to her tits that shake along with every other inch of her body.

There’s something magical about watching her come undone. Something powerful in knowing I did this to her. I want to do everything to her. In bed... and out.

She threads her fingers through my hair, holding my head in place as I draw out her orgasm, pressing kisses onto her twitching clit until she’s boneless.

I crawl up the length of her body, my eager cock whispering along the surface of her skin, the leaking tip leaving a trail. I take her mouth, kissing her hard. I can’t wait to be inside her. My balls are aching. “Turn over.”

She scrambles to her knees, face down, ass up. I pump my dick, so desperate for relief but I need to take in the sight of her first. Perfect, peachy cheeks.

I spread her wide, jerking my cock, relishing her offering.

“You ever let anyone play with your ass, Firefly?”

“No,” she whispers.

The dark question flies from my wet lips. “Want to?”

“If it’s you.”

Holy shit. How on earth do I deserve this woman?

“Reach between your legs. Rub your clit while I open you up.”

She obeys, hand reaching between her legs and I nearly lose it. I press my thumb to her rim, slow circles, then push just enough. She moans louder, clutching the sheets.

“Not yet, Lara. Tonight I want that tight cunt of yours…”

I line my cock up and push in, stretching her open, hard enough we both cry out.

I grip her hips, thrust again, deeper, harder. Spread her apart to watch her take me.

Fuck, I crave her. Need every inch, inside her pussy, her mouth… I grit my teeth to hold back, but only filth comes off my tongue. “You want me to fuck your ass next time?”

She pants, shameless. “I’ll take it any way you’ll give it.”

It should scare me how much she offers. Instead, it breaks me open. I don’t just want to use her; I want to worship her. To brand myself so deep she’ll never forget, never want anyone else.

She gives me everything. And all I want now is to be worthy of it.

I reach under her and roll her clit while I keep thrusting, hard and deep. She’s already shaking, already close.

“You gonna come for me, Firefly?”

“Yes.. I’m…”

Her voice breaks and she falls apart, her body clenching around me like a fucking vise.

I grind into her, grab her hair, tug at it beside myself with need. But I want to see her face again, that expression on her features when I fill her up.

I spin her back to the bed and enjoy her pert breasts bouncing, dancing for me as I thrust deep again, claiming her in long, punishing strokes.

I could lose myself like this. Not just in her body but in the idea that maybe I’m not too far gone. That maybe I’m not a wreck of a man pretending to be whole. That maybe if I bury myself deep enough, I’ll never have to let go…

Her fingernails rake down my back. Her eyes lock with mine.

I grip her chin. “No fuck buddies. No games. You’re mine now, Lara.”

“Yours,” she whispers.

And I swear, for a heartbeat, I feel rebuilt in her breath. She’s Midas, and I turn to gold in her hands, something of value. Something worth choosing.

I feel myself breaking, the heat surging. It isn’t just my body unraveling; it’s every wall I’ve built. Every barricade is crumbling under the truth that she’s the only one who’s ever reached me here.

I grab her wrists, grip them above her head, slam in once, twice, then come hard, with a guttural sound I barely recognize as my own.

We lie tangled, breathless. And God help me, something else besides carnal satisfaction comes over me. I feel, for the first time in my life, complete.

“I’m not done,” I rasp. “Not even close.”

Her smile is wicked and wrecked. “I’ll never be done with you.”

I press a kiss to her damp temple, forcing my body to slow, to remember she needs care as much as I need more.

I go to grab a towel from the en suite, wipe us both off, and hand her water from the nightstand.

She curls against me like I’m her safe place, like my body is the only shelter she’ll ever need. And for one fragile second, I let myself believe it. I want to be that for her. I want to stay.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, she drifts off in my arms.

But staying has never been my strong suit. Since the SEALs, I’ve kept moving—new towns, new jobs, never long enough to put down roots. Running kept me sharp. I was fast enough to leave the ghosts behind. Or that’s what I told myself.

Maybe they were always there. Maybe I was just too damn busy and exhausted to notice.

The times I tried to settle, it backfired. Nights with no sleep. Days wired with panic attacks I couldn’t get ahead of. Trying to make something good again never worked; it only made the crash come harder. So I kept moving. It felt safer that way.

Now she’s here, tangled up with me, and I can feel the weight of what it would mean not to run this time. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I’m built for it.

But Christ, I want to try.