Page 90 of The Bodyguard

How does he have the ability to make my sex weep and my heart do cartwheels at the same time?

What does Ryder have planned for today?

If he really is planning to spend the day in my bed, then I have some shaving and primping to do.

Every other time has been sporadic, but today I’ve had all day to overthink everything. Namely, that he’s the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on and how perfect his body is.

How mine isn’t.

I actually googled how to look twenty pounds lighter in twelve hours. Then I mentally slapped myself because I’m a size four and that’s just disrespecting women around the world.

And insecure as fuck.

But Ryder.

Ryder St. James. The man is a god and I want to be perfect for him. I want him to tell me that I am his sweetheart, and I don’t give a fuck what the world thinks.

But the truth is, it's outside of both our controls.

Would I want the world to know I’m sleeping with my bodyguard? No.

Ryder understands this, even though we’ve never discussed it. So we pretend and he reminds me when I lose myself in him.

It’s getting harder though.

I don’t want him walking behind me. I want him holding my hand and right beside me. I want him to kiss me in public and to be able to press my hand to his chest and proudly show the world the man I lo...

Like.

A lot.

For however long this bubble of exquisite lustful chemistry lasts between us. God, I hope I don’t fall in love with him.

I know I could. It would be so damn easy.

So I have to be careful.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a large teal-green bath towel, drying off. When I walk into my bedroom, my phone beeps.

It’s my sister again.

I swipe reluctantly, then immediately regret it.

If it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t be so successful.

I sit up. Is she fucking kidding me right now? Neither of my parents believed in my dream. I paid for acting classes. I worked in the diner and did double shifts while going to audition after audition, missing dinner and being told we ate it because you didn’t come home on time.

I toss my phone on the bed, feeling physically ill.

Fuck my family.

Maybe I’ll deposit money into their bank accounts and tell them to stay the hell away from me. This is not the behavior of a loving family.

Actions speak louder than words and all that.

I don’t want to be upset when Ryder arrives, and I don’t have a clue what I should be wearing—if anything at all—so I tune my family out completely.

Ugh.

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