Page 27 of Reluctantly His

I placed my hand on my hip while I gestured with the other. “Why can’t one of our drivers take me in the sedan?”

With his hand around my upper arm, he half-dragged me around the back of the truck to the other passenger door. As he swung it open, he said, “Because I like the idea of you riding me.”

My eyes widened as a gasp escaped my lips.

He smirked. “My bad. I meant you riding in my truck.”

“If you are remaining my bodyguard, there will have to be some professional distance. What happened yesterday can’t happen again. Okay? It just can’t.”

He raised an eyebrow as he crossed his strong forearms over his chest. With a decisive nod, he said, “Agreed.”

I shook my head slightly as I frowned. “Agreed?”

So much for the sleepless night I’d spent moving between agitation and fantasy. One second, I was composing a properly regal speech in my head for when I next saw him about obligation and professionalism. The next, I was wondering what it would feel like to have all that heavy, tattooed muscle pressing down on me.

And now… nothing.

Just ‘agreed’.

No argument.

No ‘fuck my job, you’re worth more to me’.

No, ‘sorry princess, but I can’t stay away from you’.

I ran the tip of my tongue over my teeth as I squared my shoulders. “I mean, fine. I’m glad we are in complete agreement.”

Totally fine.

It would have been awkward for both of us moving forward had he declared any such, silly, outrageous, overly attached... super swoon-worthy… sentiments anyway.

“I’m a man of my word, Charlotte.”

Before I could respond, he placed his forearm high over my head against the truck.

My back was pressed against the warm metal.

He leaned down until his lips almost touched mine. “As long as you behave like a good girl, I see no reason why I’d have to take you over my knee again.”

My mouth opened, but only an outraged squeak emerged.

He chuckled as his hands wrapped around my waist.

I stiffened. “Get your hands off me.”

He spun me around. “Relax, princess. Just doing my job, helping you into the truck.”

Through clenched teeth, I said, “I can get in on my own.”

His chest pressed against my side as his breath tickled my cheek. “Now what fun would there be in that?”

He lifted me inside. His forearm then brushed the tops of my thighs as he buckled me in.

I clenched my legs together. This was bad, really bad.

He couldn’t have looked more like the military if he had some type of assault rifle strapped to his back. I hated this.

I didn’t have very many friends or people I respected who respected me, but they were all going to be at the Lincoln Center for Performing Arts tonight.

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