Ruthless

by Sybil Bartel

  “That’s correct.”

  “Sawyer—”

  “I want you, Genevieve James, not all of this bullshit.” He brought my arms down and wrapped them around his neck. “I don’t give a fuck about my father’s company, my seat on the board, my trust—none of that. The penthouse is in my name, I have my own money, and no matter what, I will always take care of you.” He leaned closer, and his hard length pressed into me. “I will always be there for you.”

  “I-I don’t understand. Why are you saying all of this now?” Especially after what had just happened.

  “Because I made a mistake.”

  My stomach dropped. “A mistake?”

  He cupped my face. “I told my mother I was ring shopping.”

  Every muscle in my body went perfectly still.

  Reaching into his pocket, Sawyer Savatier dropped to one knee.

  My heart stopped.

  Taking my hand, he held a giant diamond in front of my ring finger. “This was not how I planned this. I was going to take you out. Dinner, drinks, a long speech about how perfect you are and how imperfect I am. Instead, the fucking mess that’s my family happened. I don’t give a damn about my father’s company or making him more money, I never have. It’s why we argue, but through every ugly, dysfunctional word upstairs, I knew one thing to be true.” Unwavering, he held my gaze. “I love you, Genevieve James. We’ve weathered a hell of a lot worse than a few angry words, and I know without a doubt, we’ll weather anything else that comes our way. I want to wake up every day to your smile, and I want to spend my life making you happy. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Tears dripped down my face. I knew what I wanted to say, but instead I said what I should say. “I won’t marry you without a prenup.”

  His chest rose and fell twice rapidly as if he were waging a war. “I am not asking, nor will I ever ask, you to sign one.”

  “I’m not letting you walk away from what’s rightfully yours.” And I wasn’t going to let him walk away from his family for me either. I didn’t know how I would do it, but I’d try my damndest to bring them together. Or least have them not want to kill each other when they were in the same room. They were a family, and that was precious.

  “I want you more than all of this bullshit,” he protested.

  “You can have both.”

  “I only want one.”

  “We’re a package deal,” I whispered.

  His eyes closed and he inhaled.

  Then he slid the ring on my finger, stood and brought his lips to mine. “Done.”

  “Sawyer.” I choked on a sob that was part shock and all joy.

  His mouth slammed over mine.

  And he kissed me.

  God, did he kiss me.

  His hands in my hair, his dominant control possessing my mouth, he stroked through my heat and he claimed what was already his.

  A groan, his, mine, ours—oh God, ours.

  I abruptly pulled back, not believing this fairy tale. “Sawyer Savatier.” I grasped each side of his face. “You asked me to marry you.”

  His lips wet from our kiss, his expression deadly serious, he pressed his hips into mine. “And you said yes…” Leaning down to my ear, he ground his hard length against me. “Wife.”

  I shivered. “Husband,” I whispered, as I took in the biggest, most gorgeous princess-cut diamond ring I’d ever seen. Even in the ambient light through the windows, it shone like a thousand lifetimes of happiness.

  His mouth found the sensitive spot right below my ear as his hips left mine. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it and you. Especially you.” More than anything, I loved this man.

  “Do you know what I’m going to do you right now?” The sound of first his buckle quietly clanking, then his zipper going down filled the darkened office.

  “Oh God.” My inner muscles contracted in exquisitely torturous anticipation and I momentarily forgot about the heavy, new ring on my finger. “We can’t. Your family will find us.”

  “You’re my family.” His hand slid up my thigh and he bit my neck.

  “Sawyer,” I admonished. “We can’t.”

  His hand breached the nothing wisp of my thong and pushed the silky material aside. “We can.” His thick fingers found my clit, then dragged through my wet heat. “And we will.” He sank a single finger inside me.

  My eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, I breathed it all in. Him, a part of his body inside me, the love I felt—it was more than I’d ever dreamed of. “You were wrong,” I admitted.

  Lifting my leg to his waist with his free hand, he sunk a second finger inside me. “About what?”

  “No matter what part of your body it is, I don’t ever get used to the intrusion of you inside me.” I opened my eyes and focused on him. The lights from the cityscape at night filtered across the sharp angles of his face. “And I don’t want to. I want it to always feel this way.”

  “It won’t.” He slid his fingers out of me only to replace his touch with the swollen head of his cock. “It’ll feel better.” Rough but controlled, he thrust into me hard.

  I half gasped, half moaned.

  He grabbed my other leg, lifted it around his waist, then shoved into me even deeper.

  Bottoming out, hitting a place inside me only he could reach, he slammed me against the door and crushed me with his chest. A roar of satisfaction and pure dominance erupted from his chest as his mouth found my ear, and he did what he did best. He gave me more. “I fucking love you, Genevieve James Savatier.”

  THANK YOU!

  Thank you so much for reading RUTHLESS! If you are interested in leaving a review on any retail site, I would be so appreciative. Reviews mean the world to authors, and they are helpful beyond compare!

  And make sure to check out the other books in the Alpha Bodyguard Series!

  SCANDALOUS

  MERCILESS

  RECKLESS

  FEARLESS

  Have you read the sexy Alpha Escort Series?

  THRUST

  ROUGH

  GRIND

  Have you read the Uncompromising Series?

  TALON

  NEIL

  ANDRÉ

  BENNETT

  CALLAN

  Turn the page for a preview of SCANDALOUS, MERCILESS, RECKLESS and FEARLESS,

  the other exciting books in the Alpha Bodyguard Series!

  SCANDALOUS

  Bodyguard.

  Babysitter.

  Chauffeur.

  Not what the hell I thought I’d be doing with my life.

  Especially not for a spoiled Hollywood actress on location in Miami Beach. But triple pay and carrying a gun had its advantages. I’d shove away paparazzi and screaming fans for a lot less. The Marines trained me to be Force Recon—intimidation and crowd control was child’s play compared to four tours. This assignment should’ve been easy money.

  But the doe-eyed starlet with the perfect ass dragged me down her rabbit hole. Living for the spotlight, she leaked the perfect scandal. I warned her making headlines wasn’t in my job description, but she kept smiling for the cameras.

  Now she was going to find out just how scandalous a bodyguard could be.

  MERCILESS

  Bodyguard.

  Mercenary.

  Gun for hire.

  I didn’t care what you called it, the end result was always the same.

  You paid me for a job, you got results. The Marines trained me to shoot, but life taught me to aim. Working for the best personal security firm in the business was a stepping stone. Put in my time, build the résumé, then move on. I didn’t do attachments on any level.

  Until a smoking-hot former one-night stand crossed the street in front of me, holding hands with a kid who was my spitting image. She tried to play it off, deny he was mine. She said she didn’t remember me, right before she picked her kid up and ran. She thought she’d made a clean escape.

  But she was about to find out how merciless a
bodyguard could be.

  RECKLESS

  Bodyguard.

  Escort.

  Bad boy.

  I didn’t come from the wrong side of the tracks. I was the wrong side. Every cliché you could think of, my family embraced. The only advantage I had was being the best-looking out of all my brothers. Except when I joined the Marines, looks didn’t count for shit downrange.

  I wasn’t active duty anymore, and working for the best personal security firm in the business, my looks were getting me in more trouble than they were worth. I just didn’t realize how much trouble until a princess from a country I’d never heard of asked for me by name. Her request was simple—me, my gun, and an art opening. But she recklessly failed to mention one crucial part of the assignment… pretend to be her new fiancé.

  Now she was about to find out how reckless a bodyguard could be.

  FEARLESS

  Bodyguard.

  Sniper.

  Morally corrupt.

  I didn’t care who I aimed at. You paid me, I pulled the trigger. I sold my skills to the highest bidder, and trust me, I had skills. The Marines trained me to aim a sniper rifle, but life taught me to get the job done—at any expense.

  Except hostage recovery wasn’t on my short list. I didn’t give a shit the personal security firm that’d hired me was paying double to get some rich businessman’s daughter back without casualties. I didn’t negotiate with terrorists. Ever. I had my own plan. Take out anyone in my sights, recover the hostage, and get out. But then I laid eyes on the half-naked, bleeding brunette, and I changed my mind. I was gonna do a hell of a lot more than simply pull the trigger.

  Now they were gonna find out how fearless a bodyguard could be.

  My dad asked me once why I became an author. I launched into a long diatribe about stories I’d written since I was young, an idea for a book I’d had since I was even younger, the creativity of making a world all your own, and characters who demand your attention until you put them on paper.

  My dad, ever patient, listened to my whole, too long explanation, then he simply said, “I thought maybe I would’ve inspired you to be an author.”

  I felt like an ass. No, scratch that, I was one.

  My dad’s an author.

  He’s been writing since before I could walk. My earliest memories are of lying on the rug in his study in front of his bookshelves. I’d pull book after book out and look at them before I was old enough to read, and I’d make a mess until my arms were too tired to hold up another book. Then I’d fall asleep. All the while, my dad would be at his desk typing.

  He never, not once, scolded me for making a mess in his study. He let me look at all the pictures in his Encyclopedia Britannica collection, and as the years flew by and I learned to read, he answered any questions I had. I took pride in seeing his name on books, journals and papers, even though I didn’t understand the subject matter. All I knew was that my dad was a professor and an author. And I thought that was pretty damn cool.

  So Dad, I was wrong that day. And if I could redo that conversation, I would in a heartbeat. I’d erase everything I said, and I’d say the one thing that mattered: Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much for inspiring me to become an author.

  XOXO

  Sybil

  Sybil grew up in northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She used to dream of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling.

  Sybil now resides in southern Florida, and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she’s not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her family, and a mischievous miniature boxer.

  But seriously?

  Here are ten things you really want to know about Sybil.

  She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaked her out. Her favorite word is desperate, or dirty, or both, she can’t choose. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never rely on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week.

  To find out more about Sybil Bartel or her books, please visit her at:

  Website

  Facebook page

  Book Boyfriend Heroes

  Twitter

  BookBub

  Newsletter