Page 202 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

The fuck? Did she just call me—? I pivot, and she throws herself at me.

In what’s a repeat of that scene in her room that got me into trouble in the first place, she literally climbs me like a tree.

Instinctively, I cup her behind to stop her from falling.

She hooks her ankles about my waist, throws her arms around my neck and rears up.

Poised with her lips just a hair’s breadth away from mine, she demands, "Kiss me," then waits.

I pull back enough to be just out of reach.

"Damn you, kiss me, asshole."

"My, my, what a potty mouth you’ve developed, little girl. And to think, you were expecting to go into an arranged marriage?"

"I’d have won him over eventually, and—"

"Don’t fucking talk about him." I wind her hair around my palm and tug, so the beautiful column of her neck is bared for my appraisal.

"You jealous of him?"

"Don’t talk about any other man when we’re together."

"Is there a 'we' then?" She looks at me from under hooded eyelashes.

"There’s no 'we.' I’ll never belong to only one woman, and definitely not to a young, virginal Mafia princess—"

"I’m not a virgin."

"What a little liar you are."

"I might have been sheltered, doesn’t mean I didn’t get around, and—"

I pull on her hair, and she flinches. "You’re hurting me."

"Better get used to it," I growl. Then, because I fucking can’t help myself, and because the sight of her slick, naked body fills my vision, and because my cock is seconds away from bursting through the barrier of my swim trunks and burying itself in her hot tight pussy, and no way, will I allow myself to go there—yet—I run my nose up her throat.

She shivers, and her nipples tighten into points that dig into my chest. My dick extends and thickens, and the blood drains to my groin and—fuck this, but I’m fast forgetting why I thought it a good idea to declare I wasn’t going to shag her.

I draw in a deep breath, filling my lungs with that sugary sweet scent that is her.

My heart seems to swell in my chest; my balls harden.

I open my mouth and sink my teeth into the side of her neck, mimicking the bite she placed on me earlier.

Only, I go a step further. I break the skin, so the coppery taste of her blood fills my palate.

My eyes roll back in my head. Fucking hell, I knew she’d taste as sweet as she smells.

My heart seems to expand until I sense its beat in every cell in my body.

Until I can feel her pulse racing in tandem with mine.

Fucking hell, this is dangerous. This is why I didn’t want to mess up the lines I drew earlier.

My proclivities are the kind she would never be able to bear.

And to think, it's her actions that created those needs in me. I lick the skin I broke, and the depression of my teeth marks on her neck sends a primitive thrill down my spine. Which, in turn, warns me that if I didn’t put distance between us, it’s going to be too late. It is too late. Too late.

"Declan?" She searches my features. "What’s wrong, you—"

There’s a flash from the side. I turn my head in that direction, and another flashbulb goes off.

"Motherfucker!" I take a step forward toward the pool and drop her.

"What the hell, Dec—" The rest of her words are swallowed up by the water closing in over her.

I turn and race toward the bushes, where the photographer's hidden. I leap over the hydrangea, then push through the assorted flowering bushes planted there. I reach the perimeter of the garden to find a man racing across the beach and away from the house. Fucking fuck. I turn and find her right behind me. The good news? She’s wearing her bathrobe. The bad news? I’m pissed with her.

"The fuck did you follow me here?" I roar.

She gapes, then swipes out her arm. Her palm connects with my cheek, and fuck me, my pulse rate goes through the roof. The blood drains to my groin. "You’ve done it now," I growl.

The color fades from her face. She gulps, looks to the left, then the right. Well, she’s not going to find any help there.

I take a step toward her. She yelps, then pivots and races back in the direction of the house.

Scamper along, little rabbit, there’s no place for you to hide that I can’t find though.

I prowl past the swimming pool and back to the main house.

I hadn’t carried my phone with me, hoping to carve out a little more time offline, but that’s at an end now.

I head inside, my bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor.

I snatch up my phone and video call Rick.

"Declan?" He picks up on the first ring.

"A pap got a picture of us—"

"Us?"

"Me and Solene."

"Ah." He smirks.

"What was that 'ah' for?"

"Nothing boss, just a figure of speech."

"The fuck you calling me boss? You served with Knight. I trust you as much as my closest friends. It’s why I took on your company to provide my security detail."

"And insisted I become your bodyguard."

"No one else I’d trust with her life."

"Aha!"

"No, stop there. No more. There was a paparazzi—"

"I’m on it."

I blink. "You are?"

"Have eyes everywhere, and one of my men is already chasing him down as we speak. So, you want me to become her security detail after this?"

"You go where she goes."

"Hmm."

I scowl. "Okay, had enough with your sound-effects. You have something on your mind, man?"

"Me? Of course, not. Maybe it’s your guilty conscience—"

"The fuck would I have a guilty conscience for?"

"Do you have a guilty conscience?"

"Fuck you, man!"

He laughs. "Keep your shirt on. If I didn’t fuck with you, Knight would never forgive me."

"Speaking of, have you heard from him recently?"

His features shadow. "Not in the last week."

"Hmm,” I stroke my chin, "Let me know when you do. By the way, you ever going to share what your real name is?" Ever since Knight found out Rick’s real name and was sworn to secrecy by him, it’s been Cade's and my mission to find this out.

"You ever going to share why you decided to bring a young, innocent girl with you to LA?"

I scoff, "Innocent, my arse. You have no idea who she really is."

"A Mafia princess you saved from an arranged marriage?"

I pause then ask, "That’s not a guess, is it?"

"You know better than to ask me that."

Of course. Nothing could stay hidden from a hardened ex-military guy who retired after he was awarded the Victoria Cross—the equivalent of the Purple Heart in the US.

"Well then, you’ll also know that I have the contacts in LA to give her singing career a head start."

"Hmm," he frowns.

"There you go again—" I glare at him. "Out with it, mofo. I hate your measured glances and considered pauses."

"I didn’t say anything."

"I wish you would and get it off your chest, so I can get on with my life."

"You sure you want to hear this?" His eyebrows draw down.

"Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t, asshole!"

"You sure you’ll be able to withstand all the attention coming her way when they discover her talent?"

I lower my chin. "So, you’ve heard her sing, I take it."

"I wouldn’t be co-owner of the leading security agency in LA if I couldn’t find out all the details of the principal I’ve been charged to look after."

I glance away then at him. "If you want the truth, it’s going to be bloody difficult to share her with anyone else, in any form, but if I’d known what was good for me, I wouldn’t have inserted myself back into her life the way I did, either."