My Alpha, My Bodyguard

5.2 Vivienne

Red filled her cheeks, and – for lack of something to do to tear her gaze away from that piercing, impossibly green stare – Vivienne snatched up her glass and quickly downed the whole thing in several gulps. Marcus’s eyes widened and the pupils shrank in surprise. He lifted his hands to steady her. “Wait, don’t drink so fast–”

The warning came too late. A drop of water slipped down the wrong pipe, and Vivienne quickly found herself bent over, hacking coughs shaking her entire body as her throat burned with the effort. In a heartbeat, the glass slipped from her grasp, mesmerizing water droplets glistening in the sunlight from the window as they flew through the air like a wave cresting over the ocean, but no nearly as welcome. A second later, the receptacle sent water splashing over them both before clattering to the ground where it thankfully did not break from such a short height.

“I’m sorry!” Lord, she was losing it. “Let me clean that up–!”

“No, it’s fine,” Marcus hastened to reassure her, despite the fact that he had gotten the brunt of the unintentional attack. The front of his shirt was drenched, the cascade of cool water soaking into the soft cotton fibres. “It was already ruined from the fire, remember? At least now it can be a good rag before I throw it out, huh?”

“Still,” Vivienne fumbled, her eyes following him as Marcus picked up the glass and moved to the kitchen where he deposited it into the sink to wash. With his back to her now, she was once more reminded of the damage done to him, healed or not. “You’re already keeping me safe, so you don’t have to do housework on top of that. I feel like I’m just making your life harder.”

Like I’m a burden on you, she didn’t say though perhaps he sensed it. Marcus was good at that, at sensing her words and wants before she gave voice to them. Was that some special, shifter-only trick? Bizarrely, she hoped not.

“It’s just water, Vivienne,” he replied easily, and turned off the faucet. “You’re hardly running me ragged. Just let me do this for you, okay baby?”

There, that pet-name again! Vivienne squirmed on the couch, pressing her thighs tightly together and feeling the gusset of her panties slip between the folds. Did he really not know what he was saying and how it made her feel? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with enhanced senses?!

“Vivienne?” He was staring at her, his head tilted to the side in bemusement. “I heard you moving. Are you alright?”

“Yep, never better!” The woman squeaked, willing her body to remain perfectly still on the seat. Oh god, she took it back. Let Marcus remain oblivious, let him stay completely blind to her emotions, please and thank you. Could he hear her squirming? Could he smell her getting wet for him?!

Not for the first time, Vivienne regretted the limited scope of her high school curriculum. There had only been one class on shifter biology and sexuality, and her parents had patently refused to sign the permission slip for her to attend. All of her knowledge came from second-hand sources and cheap, sensationalized romance novels about werewolf pairings.

Internally, she made a note to look up everything she could find about bear shifters online.

“Hm,” Marcus hummed, sounding unconvinced. Vivienne’s mouth immediately went bone dry as he returned to parlour room where she sat, slowly stripping off his shirt as he approached. Transparent droplets clung to his skin, glistening like liquid diamonds against a bronze expanse. The thin fabric of his shirt clung to his chest and stomach, highlighting the artistry of his physique, and outlining the sculpted contours of impressive pectorals and taut abdominal muscles that were now becoming perfectly visible.

The room felt hot, hotter even than the explosion. Vivienne gasped, her heart pounding erratically in her chest the closer he came. Her gaze, once locked on Marcus's eyes, now drifted downward, tracing the lines of his chiseled form, following the dark hairs between his Adonis belt that formed a very thick happy trail that might as well have been a traffic sign pointing towards hidden treasure. She couldn't tear her eyes away, her breath catching as she watched his muscles heave and flex with every breath.

Time seemed to stand still as they both remained frozen, locked in an unspoken tension. Hunger, wild and impossible to deny flared in her chest, matching the same wave of emotion in Marcus. The room pulsed with an electric energy, charged with an impossible desire that bubbled and pressed against the seams of propriety and ethics. Between right and wrong, yet who was to say which was which?

The tension between them threatened to burst, and for a moment, Vivienne thought that it would. Her lashes fluttered, nearly expecting him to press her down against the back of the couch for a kiss; the culmination of the implicit desires that smoldered between them. The air was thick with anticipation, the magnetic pull between their bodies almost irresistible.

But then, in a maddening twist, Marcus tore his gaze away from her. Vivienne's heart sank, an mortifying whine escaping her throat as a mix of disappointment and confusion swirled within her. Had she misread the moment? Had she only imagined the connection that had seemed so palpable between?

Before she could voice her thoughts, Marcus surprised her once more. With a fluid grace, he knelt down in front of her, his shirt now wadded up in one hand to form a makeshift rag. The room seemed to grow warmer as her eyes traced the contours of his chest, her breath catching in her throat as he leaned closer. Were her legs not pressed shut, he would have been able to see right up the skirt of her sundress. See her wetness seeping through the lacy-thin fabric of her underwear.

What was wrong with her? Why did this man have such an effect on her? So what if he was kind and treated her with more respect than she had ever experienced in her whole life? Once upon a time, she had thought the same of Liam, and look at how that had turned out.

Liam would never do this for you, though. Marcus began to use his shirt to mop up the water that had spilled on the ground. His movements were deliberate, yet there was an underlying tension in his posture, as if he were struggling to contain the desire that still burned between them. Each swipe of the fabric sent ripples of phantom sensation through her, his muscles flexing with every motion. There was power in every movement, no matter how simple. A sort of deliberateness and cool focus that had Vivienne wildly wondering what it would be like to be the floor in that moment.

Vivienne watched, her eyes locked on him, a mixture of arousal and frustration coursing through her. She felt an undeniable pull, a longing that left her trembling from more than just unfulfilled desire. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

Finally, Marcus rose from his task, his chest still heaving slightly from the effort. His eyes met hers once more, a storm of desire raging within them. He reached out a hand to cup her cheek but froze with his fingers just a inches from her face. It might as well have been a mile, for all that it meant.

Nodding curtly, he curled his fingers into a fist and pulled away. His voice was a low, rumbling whisper as he spoke coolly, as though the moment between them had never existed at all. “All done, Mrs. Hardison.”

Ah. The name made her flinch and made her curl up into her seat. Right, Liam. Her husband. She was married to another man. Vivienne's heart sank at the reminder of her circumstances. Liam, her husband, whom she had married in the flush of youthful ambition and dreams, was still a part of her life. No matter how cruel he had become, no matter how unfaithful, she was bound to him by the legal ties of marriage. In that moment, the warmth and connection she had shared with Marcus felt like a betrayal, an act of infidelity she could hardly justify.

God, who did she think she was? Some overemotional heroine in a romance novel, protected by the author’s pen and the reader’s good will? Reality crashed down upon her like a tidal wave, washing away the excitement of a few minutes ago. What must Marcus think of her now? Shocked and disgusted by her own behavior, Vivienne scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame. She had allowed herself to get carried away, almost making Marcus a party to her infidelity.

“I am so sorry, Mar- Mr. Riviera,” was she even allowed to use his first name anymore? Had she nearly taken advantage of an employee? Truly, she had become the lowest type of scum. “I understand if you don’t want to be around me anymore. This was a terrible mistake on my part, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

In her haste to distance herself from the situation, Vivienne turned to run away, to escape the tangled web of emotions that threatened to ensnare her before it was too late. But before she could take a single step, Marcus's strong hand shot out and he caught her wrist with a gentle yet firm grip.

"Please, sit down," Marcus said softly yet sternly, his touch gentle but so utterly unwavering that Vivienne couldn't help but obey. Her emotions remained in tumultuous turmoil, and his stern words were like a fixed and sturdy rock amidst a roiling sea. She watched as Marcus knelt before her once more, his large hand reaching for her ankle. His grip dwarfed her ankle, the tips of his fingers easily wrapping around the jut of bone, and the sight made her breath hitch. Made her toes curl unintentionally with ideas of what might happen but wouldn’t. Couldn’t.