Teasing Her Alpha Guard

CHAPTER 12

Dahlia

"What's up with you?" I asked him slowly, studying the way his jaw had tightened, the way his eyes had gone distant somewhere between the estate gates and now.

"Nothing. I'm just being thoughtful about what you just told me." He glanced at me briefly before turning his focus back to the road. "There must be a hidden burner phone somewhere and I'll find it."

My face lit up notwithstanding the tension still sitting in my chest. "You will? How exactly do you intend to do that?"

His voice dropped low, almost distracted. "You'll need resources for something like that. Difficult stuff, but not impossible."

I shook my head slowly, watching him. "Roman, you're a security guard. What kind of resources does a low ranking guard have access to?"

"I have contacts from my security network. I'll trace the phone. Don't worry about it." He said it so plainly, like it wasn't the strangest thing he could have possibly said to me.

A security network. Since when did hired protection detail come with a network of contacts capable of tracing burner phones across pack territories? This had to be the most absurd thing I'd heard since meeting him, and considering everything that had happened over the past few weeks, that was really saying something. Wasn't he supposed to be just another employee on my father's payroll, collecting a paycheck like the rest of the estate staff?

Now he was talking like he ran his own operation.

I smelled something fishy in all of this, something that didn't add up no matter how many times I tried to make the pieces fit. But if he could actually track down that missing phone, then maybe now wasn't the time to question his methods. I'd save my questions for when I had more leverage.

The car rolled into the estate's parking area a few minutes later. Even from the window I could see the changes already underway, workers hauling scorched beams away from the east wing, scaffolding going up along the damaged walls, the whole property slowly stitching itself back together after the fire. It gave me a strange, hollow feeling watching it, like the house itself was healing faster than any of us were.

We stepped out of the car, and I turned to Roman, keeping my voice light for anyone who might be watching.

"Go get some rest," I said, waving him off casually. Then, dropping my voice to barely above a whisper as I leaned in slightly, "Make sure you bring some useful information tonight. Let's meet in my room. Don't get caught, okay?"

I strutted away without waiting for a response, my heart doing something ridiculous in my chest that had nothing to do with Marcus or the burner phone or any of the danger currently circling my family. Roman nodded once and moved off towards a different part of the estate, already back to playing the role of the quiet, unremarkable guard.

Later that night, I finished showering and stepped out of the bathroom with nothing on, my hair still damp and dripping down my back, when a soft knock hit my door. I froze for a second, recognizing the rhythm of it immediately, then scrambled to grab a towel and wrap it around myself before crossing the room.

I pulled the door open, and there he was.

Roman stood in the hallway wearing dark slacks and a deep red shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that made my breath catch somewhere in my throat. This was supposed to be a spy mission. A quiet exchange of information under cover of darkness, nothing more. But looking at him standing there like that, I couldn't say I minded the view one bit.

"Why do you always kill the mood with that hard expression?" I asked, letting my eyes travel from his face down to the laptop tucked under his arm.

He didn't answer, just stepped inside when I moved aside for him, settling onto the edge of my bed and opening the laptop across his knees. I sat beside him, pulling my towel a little tighter, and watched the screen light up with maps, coordinates, small red markers scattered across what looked like half the territory.

"My contact narrowed it down to a few possible locations," he said, scrolling through something too fast for me to actually read. "Based on the last known signal before the phone went dark, we're looking at three areas here, here, and here."

I nodded along, watching his finger trace across the screen, but if I'm being honest, I wasn't absorbing a single word he said. My eyes kept drifting back to the sharp line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the quiet intensity that clung to him even when he was doing something as mundane as reading coordinates off a laptop. He looked even more dangerous like this, focused and serious, than he did in the middle of a fight.

"Dahlia." His voice cut through my thoughts. "Are you even listening?"

"Yes, yes." I blinked, sitting up a little straighter. "I'm just tired. Shall I get you a little snack? You must be hungry. You didn't have dinner yet, right?"

He glanced at me for a long moment, something shifting behind his eyes.

"Or you could just eat me," I said before he could answer, and watched the words land, watched his expression darken before he could stop it.

He set the laptop aside without another word, closing it and placing it carefully on my nightstand. Then his hand found my waist, and he guided me backward, walking me towards the bathroom door I hadn't bothered closing all the way. I let the towel fall the second his eyes found mine, standing completely bare in front of him, and the way he looked at me in that moment made every nerve in my body light up at once.

"Beautiful," he murmured, low and rough, his mouth finding my collarbone, trailing slowly down to my breast.

I pulled his face back up to mine, kissing him deep and hungry, my hands sliding beneath his shirt while his own hands mapped every inch of me like he was trying to memorize the shape of my body in the dark.

"Let me take care of you," I whispered against his lips. "You've been so tense lately."

I reached for his belt, working it loose with fingers that trembled slightly from anticipation, and pushed his pants down until they pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of them without breaking eye contact, and I wrapped my hand around him, feeling him twitch against my palm as I stroked slowly, deliberately, before lowering myself and taking him into my mouth.

I circled my tongue around the head first, savoring the low sound that escaped him, then took him deeper, sucking steadily as his breathing turned ragged above me. His hand tangled into my damp hair, just holding on, like he needed something to anchor himself to.

I could feel how badly I wanted this too, an ache building low and insistent between my thighs, and I quickened my pace, drawing another rough sound out of him before he suddenly pulled back, tugging himself gently from my mouth.

"I don't want to come like this," he said, voice thick and strained. "I want your p***y, Dahlia."

He lifted me easily, hooking my legs over his shoulders as he laid me back, and entered me in one slow, deliberate stroke that stole the air straight out of my lungs. He gave me a moment to adjust before he started moving, deep and steady at first, then faster, harder, each thrust sending my body rocking against the sheets.

I bit down on my own hand to keep quiet, terrified of who might be walking the halls outside my door, but the sounds still slipped out anyway, soft and broken between gasps. He f****d me like he'd been really holding back for days, weeks even, every movement carrying the weight of everything neither of us had said out loud yet.

When he finally pulled out, spilling over my chest with a low groan, I lay there breathless, staring up at the ceiling, my whole body humming with something that felt a lot bigger than just physical satisfaction.

By the time I woke the next morning, he was already dressed, laptop tucked back under his arm, looking every bit as composed as if the night before hadn't happened at all.

"Good morning, Dahlia," he said, voice flat, almost businesslike.

"Hey, we had s*x yesterday. Don't act all high and mighty." I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself, a little annoyed at how easily he'd slipped back into his guard persona.

"Good morning, Roman," I corrected myself dryly. "So you'll head back to your own quarters now and look more into what we found yesterday?"

He nodded, but the expression on his face looked off, quite different. I studied him for a little longer and caught it then, a flicker of guilt passing behind his eyes before he could smooth it away.

"Are you okay, Roman?"

"Nothing is wrong, Dahlia." His tone stayed even and careful. "It's still early, get some sleep."

He turned and walked towards the door, and I watched him go, that flicker of guilt still heavy in my chest even after the door shut behind him.