Free Wild About The Bodyguard by Tabitha Robbins Page A

ached
for all night.
    As his mouth
fused with hers, her bones liquefied. His tongue eased past her
lips, sweeping once before falling into a heavenly rhythm. Her
breasts suddenly felt fuller and a telltale pulse kicked off in her
core. When he urged her closer still, his mouth angled more and all
those soul-lifting stirrings notched up a few stunning
degrees.
    At the same
time she craned up on tiptoes and her arms coiled around his neck,
the palm pressing on the small of her back ventured lower. As those
fingers filed over one side of her butt, his mouth gradually left
hers.
    On a dreamy
smile, she nipped his lower lip. “You don’t waste any time, do
you?”
    Cupping her
cheek, he searched her eyes. “You never know how much time you
might have left.”

Chapter 8
     
    When he
blinked open his eyes the next morning, Chase was greeted by the
sight of Sammy spread out beside him. The sheet was loosely draped
over her body. One leg hung over the side of the bed and her mouth
was open. Wide.
    She was
snoring. Not a delicate rattle of air pulled into and then out of
her lungs. She was chugging like a coal train. Chase rubbed one
side of his grin. How in the world had he slept through that
racket?
    Most likely
because he’d been completely satisfied. They’d enjoyed a tearaway
final series game, followed by the hottest sex of his life. The
sizzle had alternated with tamer spells throughout the
night...episodes that had, in one way or another, involved salted
caramel ice cream. If only every day could be so good.
    Now, when he
leaned across and oh-so-lightly dropped a kiss on her warm brow and
breathed in her natural earthy scent, Sammy stirred. Her mouth
snapped shut, her leg swung up and the snoring stopped. For a
second.
    As that motor
kicked in again, Chase curled an arm around her pillowed head. He
wouldn’t tell her about this grizzly bear serenade. Like he
wouldn’t mention that she might be tone deaf. When she’d sung along
to the radio during the drive home the previous night, at first
he’d thought she was joking—being a comedian. Before he’d laughed
out loud, thank God he’d realized that her eyes had been closed;
she’d been feeling the words to her soul. The song had been about
love and loss...a familiar theme, and one with which Sammy
obviously shared a great deal.
    Chase had lost
someone, too. Not a parent. A good friend who should still be
walking around today. If not for him, Will Spencer’s wife would
still have a husband. Will’s son would still have his
dad.
    When Sammy
stirred again, he watched her face as she drifted up from her
dreams. Then her eyes dragged open and understanding dawned before
she turned toward him and softly smiled. Stretching like a cat, she
curled up against him. With her nose and breasts pressed into him,
she mumbled something about it being Sunday and sleeping
in.
    “ I work
Sundays,” he whispered, filing fingers through her bed
hair.
    She grumbled
against his skin. “Who works Sundays?”
    “ Guys who run
gentlemen’s clubs.”
    She groaned.
“Isn’t the idea of a men’s only club a little
Victorian?”
    “ Women have
their clubs. Look at the GFWC.”
    “ The General
Federation of Women’s Clubs is different. They help communities.
Give voices to people who wouldn’t otherwise get heard.”
    He loved her
sense of right. “Well, now...you’re all social commentary this
morning.”
    “ Just
saying...” she said, snuggling back in, “they don’t sit around
puffing cigars and playing 7 Card Stud.”
    His chest
tightened. “Most of those men give bucket-loads to charity. All
kinds.”
    She seemed to
let that sink in and then apologized. “Guess it’s more about me not
getting the whole elitist, sense-of-privilege thing.”
    Neither did
Chase. Although he wasn’t ready to confess that to anyone,
including Sammy. She was entitled to her opinion.
    “ Not that
there’s anything wrong with providing a service,” she added.
“Catering to a need, if