Gambling on the Bodyguard by Sarah Ballance

hated to do that, but he’d also hate to bust up the room service guy for seeing her naked, so he kept with the plan.
    While he waited he flipped channels, eventually settling on a crime show. It reminded him of her Dateline concerns and the fact that she had trusted him. He was in some kind of bad shape if he couldn’t watch a forensic report without thinking about her. Wanting her.
    What the hell happened here?
    He was saved from having to answer his own question when the food arrived. He tore into the pancakes, leaving a couple of them plus the bacon for her. Syrup for dessert.
    “Do I smell bacon?” she asked, her voice sleepy. Sexy.
    He didn’t look at her. Just broke into a smile that surprised him. “Welcome back.”
    “Seriously, is there bacon?” She sounded more alert now.
    He handed her a piece over his shoulder. “I don’t know why you parted ways with bacon, but I think it’s time you stage a reunion.”
    She crawled across the bed, settling next to him on the foot. “Haven’t I?”
    “What about when you leave here?”
    The question took on a meaning he never intended. It hung there heavily, a white elephant in a gaudy hotel in a room that smelled deliciously of swine.
    “About the bacon, I mean.”
    “I think I’ll still want it,” she said softly.
    He wasn’t one of those intuitive types, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about the bacon. He swallowed whatever that threatened to mean to him. “I’m not finished with you, you know.”
    “Is that a warning?”
    Remembering what she’d said earlier about syrup, he dunked a piece of bacon and handed it to her. “Yep.”
    He glanced back in time to see a drop of syrup fall, landing just north of her left nipple. She swiped it with her finger, then stuck her finger in her mouth and licked it. When she saw him watching, she blushed, all kinds of pretty.
    His cock hardened. No warning, not much chance of hiding it, but thank God for the jeans. He wasn’t a connoisseur of dick sizes. Had no idea his was worthy of alarm, but he believed her reaction genuine. The woman was unbelievably tight. Absolutely made for him. Her wariness over the size of his junk wasn’t something he wanted.
    Neither was one night.
    He wanted more. Wanted them all.
    Nope, nope, nope .
    Couldn’t go there. He’d already lost too much, and in doing so he’d proven himself unworthy. Logically he knew better than to think he could have her outside of the bedroom—and the weekend—but he couldn’t relegate her to anything less than something meaningful. They may not be going anywhere with this, but she was no one-nighter. Not by a long shot.
    His affirmation hadn’t fazed her. Not like bacon. She held out her hand, clearly not reaching for him. But he took her anyway, closing his mouth on her fingers and sucking them in until he’d eradicated every last trace of bacon. When he released her, she stared, dazed, as he swirled another piece of bacon in syrup and handed it over.
    She took it and without breaking eye contact brushed her nipple, leaving behind a trail of syrup. “Your turn.”
    Oh, hell no. He used all the restraint in the world to not throw the plate down. Not dive in. And then he figured out how to use all that restraint to his advantage. He wasn’t going down in fewer than ten thrusts. Not this time.
    She sat on the bed on her knees, gorgeous. Syrup drizzled down her breast. A drop actually beaded on her tight nipple, the little bastard. He bypassed it to take her hand, then he again sucked her finger into his mouth. When the flavor was gone, he worked on her thumb. The drop of syrup on her nipple held on.
    “You aren’t as innocent as I thought you were,” he murmured, tugging her to her feet.
    “Trust me, you’ve done all the corrupting.”
    “Good.” He bent down, cupped her breast, and trailed his tongue over the syrup. He wanted so badly to take the whole thing in his mouth, but the night was going too fast. He wanted to know more