Page 73 of The Bodyguard

“No, ma’am,” I gruff.

“No, you won’t kiss me, or no, you aren’t scared?” she asks and juts out her hip.

“Both,” I growl deeper.

She wobbles a little bit, and my hands steady her hips. I hold her like she’s a bomb about to explode.

She might be.

Or perhaps I am.

“You like touching me.” Savannah smiles.

Goddamn her.

“So does your date,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Are you jealous?” She grins, her eyes lighting up.

“I am your bodyguard,” I ground out, reminding us both.

A man steps out of the men’s restroom, and I take a step back. When he passes, Savannah presses against me and flattens her hands on my chest. “Come inside with me and make me come.”

Jesus Christ.

“Savannah, you need to get back out to your date. Then I’m taking you home.” I close my eyes and then open them, because yeah, angry sex and fucking her up against the restroom sink sound perfect right now.

She slumps, rejected, like a little girl. “He’s the only one who gets me. The only one who cares.”

What?

Savannah spins and pushes into the restroom.

The only one who cares? Nick? Fuck that.

He is trying to get into your panties, you beautiful little idiot.

I use the restroom at the same time and find her walking down the hallway when I return. She glances over her shoulder but ignores me and returns to the table.

Before she sits down, she says, “You can go if you like. Nick’s bodyguard is here. He can see us home.”

Us?

The fuck is she doing?

“Absolutely. Head home man,” Nick says, leaning back in his chair and winking at me.

Wow. Pretty sure the sentence would be like fifteen years. Maybe twenty-five.

I’m going to google it.

I’m young. I’m a former Delta operator. I’ll survive in a maximum-security prison.

Hell, I could fucking escape one.

It would be worth it.

I’ve never liked his acting, anyway.

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