I feel my cheeks warm.
That wasn’t what I was expecting him to say.
It’s almost...inappropriate.
“Well, it was acting.”
“It’s still kissing.” Nick holds my gaze. “My mouth was on yours.”
I shiver.
His naked body was on top of mine, too. Even if we were surrounded by twenty people and four cameras.
I’m not unaware of how hot Nick is. He’s a Hollywood heartthrob.
But this conversation feels like it’s fueled with oysters and alcohol, and I’m not sure it should go too much further.
“I was nervous,” I say. “You’re Nick Marciano. My god. I thought I was going to bite you or something.”
He tosses his head back and laughs. I giggle, happy to have broken that awkward tension.
He leans in and says, “Spoiler alert. If you had, I would’ve liked it.”
And...now it’s back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RYDER
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I’m trying to recall what the jail term for shooting a celebrity between the eyes is while he’s dining in a Manhattan restaurant. And where I’d like to spend my final years if I can escape American soil.
I think Columbia could be nice.
It’s a dangerous place, but then so is the woman sitting several feet from me laughing with the celebrity I’d like to kill.
Nick has touched Savannah seven times this evening. Seven unnecessary times.
I’ve watched as she’s opened up to him and expressed how unhappy she’s feeling. I hate that he’s the one consoling her and making her smile.
I’m trying really hard to remember I’m simply her bodyguard.
That’s all.
One day she’s going to be on a date and I’m going to watch her fall in love. Right in front of me.
Well, fuck that.
What is it with this woman? I don’t give a shit that she’s a celebrity. She could have been some random woman attending a wedding. From the moment I saw her...
She doesn’t understand. I cannot kiss her. I cannot be with her.
And by the looks of things, she doesn’t care.
She’s already moved on.
My focus needs to be on keeping her safe and working with the Black Hawke team to see if we can identify who this stalker might be.