Page 13 of South Beach Bodyguards

“I have asthma,” I said, into his warm chest. “I don’t know where my inhaler is.”

“I’ll drive you over to your house to get it if you think it’s there.”

I nodded. “I have a spare one in my room.”

“Okay, well let’s do that. Call your mom and check on the dog. That will make you feel better.” He rubbed my back and it was the gesture of a man who didn’t quite understand how big his hands were or how strong he was. It was like my spine was a washboard and he was doing laundry.

It made me rock a little on my feet. But oddly, it made me feel better. Those were strong hands. If anyone could hold me up, it was him. “Thanks, Ryan. I’m sorry you got stuck babysitting me.” That embarrassed me.

He stepped back and gave me a small smile. “My pleasure.”

His voice was low, filled with innuendo. Or was I imagining it? It was just a rote response, nothing more. I needed to get a grip on my emotions. I had punched a hole into Ryan’s time and privacy, the least I could do was stay somewhat rational.

“I don’t understand why I don’t remember anything.”

“I think that’s normal after a head trauma. I’m going to get dressed. You hungry?”

The thought of food made my stomach turn. “No. I’ll go get my shirt from the bathroom.” The images of me naked, eating pizza, kept haunting me. “Hey, uh, was I weird last night?”

“No,” he said, but Ryan was a terrible liar. His voice went up like an entire octave and he avoided looking at me, busying himself with digging in his dresser.

Great. That wasn’t even remotely reassuring. “Ryan, be honest. I’m a big girl, I can take it. What did I do?” Please, dear God, don’t let me have confessed I had a mega crush on him. Anything but that. Literally anything but that.

“You really want to know?”

No. Yes. I nodded.

“You kept taking your clothes off. That’s all.”

My cheeks flamed. So the dreams weren’t dreams after all. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ryan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

That was it. He didn’t say anything else. He just pulled a shirt on over his head.

I hesitated, not sure what else to say, but feeling like I needed to apologize further. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

That made his head snap up. He frowned. “I don’t get embarrassed.”

“Ever?”

“No. But I am angry with myself.”

“Why?”

He glanced down at my chest, then back up. “Because I looked. I admit it. I tried not to, but you kept taking your clothes off, and it just got too fucking hard, Isabel. I looked.”

The heat in my cheeks increased. But I also felt a warm sensation blooming between my thighs. “Did… did you like what you saw?” I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t fair to ask him that. It was clearly fishing.

“I liked it.” He slammed the drawer shut. His expression was stormy. “Just don’t do it again.”

Wow. Duly noted. Keep my clothes on. Check.

It felt like an insult. A criticism. Or maybe it was just my own feelings of embarrassment for having been such a flirt, or presumably a flirt. It was also my frustration with my own awkwardness, my inability to entice a man of any decency.

I was still a virgin. The man who I had been fantasizing about altering that state of my body was standing right in front of me telling me to keep my clothes on. So I gathered my inner Julia and I stood there and stripped his huge shirt off over my head, leaving me in my bra.

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. I held my arm straight out and let go. Boom. Mic drop.

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