Page 9 of South Beach Bodyguards

Now we were getting somewhere. My breath caught in my throat. His chest was ripped, broad. Tantalizing. I wanted to run my hands everywhere over him. I wanted to dig my nails into his flesh and hold on while he pushed inside me. I started to move towards him, but suddenly his warm shirt hit me in the face.

“Put my shirt on. Please. I’m literally begging you,” he said.

That was not at all the reaction I’d been hoping for. I peeled the fabric off my face. Suddenly I felt such a hot stab of disappointment, I thought I was going to cry. “Why? Don’t you think I’m hot enough for you?”

His hands fell to his side and curled into fists. “Are you fucking kidding me? That is not the problem. The problem is you took a hit to the head and you don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve never, ever expressed interest in me before and I would be the biggest asshole on the planet if I took what you’re offering right now.”

“So you do think I’m hot?” That made me feel better. It was the only thing that seemed to matter out of everything he had just said. My head was hurting even more.

Ryan swore under his breath. “Yes. I do think you’re hot. Now please, put that fucking shirt on before I hate myself.”

He sounded so emphatic that I obeyed automatically. I slipped the loose cotton over my head, breathing in his scent as the fabric passed over my nose. Ryan smelled like a man should smell. Earthy. Musky. Sexy. When the shirt dropped down, it caught a little on my breasts, but I tugged it and watched Ryan watching me. He had hazel eyes, but they were dark now, and filled with lust. I could tell even from three feet away he did in fact find me attractive, before he schooled his features again, and masked that longing. But it was enough to satisfy me that I wasn’t the only one who wanted something to go down between us.

“My head hurts,” I said, because suddenly I just felt weary. Ryan wasn’t going to touch me but he wanted to and that seemed like enough for me at the moment. I decided I could sleep after all.

Ryan came closer to me and put his hands on both my upper arms. He massaged my skin reassuringly. “It’s okay. You just take a nap, for real this time, and if your head still hurts when you wake up I have pain medication the doctor prescribed for you.” His voice was gruff, yet soothing. “Everything is going to be fine.”

His lips weren’t close enough to kiss, but I was fixated on them anyway, wondering if he was a rough kisser, or gentle. His fingers on my bare arms were callused, large, but he seemed to know his own strength and was able to hold it back. He was a big man, and only a foot away from me he filled my space, looked down on me. My neck was craned way back to see his face and I wondered exactly how tall he was. So I asked. “How tall are you?”

“Six five.”

“That’s tall.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s not short. Come to bed, sweetheart.”

That sounded nice. My eyelids felt heavy. The pain behind my eyes had increased and the sleepiness had turned up a notch, so I felt a little woozy. “Okay.” I reached out for Ryan, to take his hand, because I was unsteady on my feet and it just seemed like I should hold onto him.

He took my hand and he led me down the hallway back into the bedroom. The bed was rumpled and I went to lay down and instead fell, a full face plant. I didn’t mean to do that, but once on the cool sheets, I just turned my head so I could breathe and let sleep take me under.

Isabel was asleep and I needed a cold shower. She was down for the count, but my shirt had pulled up on her back when she flopped down, exposing her upper thighs and the curve of her heart-shaped ass. She was right. It wasn’t much more than current fashion would expose, but still. Fucking hell.

I needed to get my head in the game and figure out what had happened to Isabel so I could send her home to her mother. Far away from me. I figured her odd behavior was just related to her concussion, but opening up my laptop while sitting on the couch, I did a little research just to make sure. Disorientation, dizziness, confusion. All common. It didn’t explain the whole Julia thing but maybe she could sleep that bit of weird off. Reassured, I set the alarm on my phone to wake her up in two hours just to make sure she was responsive.

Then I took a look at Isabel’s phone again, but I didn’t find anything unusual. I called her friend Brandy on my phone but she didn’t answer, so I called her again, using Isabel’s phone.

“Hey, Is, what’s up?” she answered.

“Hi, Brandy, this is Ryan Harris, Mickey Harris’s son.”

“Uh… hi? Why are you using Isabel’s phone? Is everything okay?”

“She had an accident and took a blow to the head and she doesn’t seem to know what happened to her. She’s okay, but we just want to make sure it was an accident and not an assault so do you have any idea what her plans were for today? I saw she texted you about noon.”

“Oh, my god, are you sure she’s okay?”

“She’s rattled and a little mixed up,” I said. And really determined to be sexy, but I kept that to myself. “But she’s okay.”

“Isabel was supposed to meet Juan tonight, which I told her not to do because he’s an idiot. She’s only gone out with him a few times, but that was more than I thought she should, but she always feels guilty saying no.”

Interesting. Juan was potentially a suspect, and Isabel didn’t like to say no. Damn, that was not good, and yet so very, very intriguing. I wondered how many guys she hadn’t said no to? I rubbed my head again. That was none of my business and I wasn’t going to have a fucking forehead left if this didn’t get this whole mess cleared up immediately. “Okay, thanks. Do you know what her school schedule is on Fridays? Or what time she normally gets home?”

“She has anatomy lab and entomology. She’s done by one and usually just goes home. She only works at the pet shop on Saturdays.”

That was more than I knew about Isabel all together. Though I had no damn clue what entomology was. I didn’t even know how to spell it. I could picture Isabel working at a pet shop though, given how much she clearly loved her dog. Which made it strange to me that she hadn’t asked about him. Or her. Or him. It was a white fluffy thing, I had no clue what it was, breed or gender. “What does she do when she gets home, do you know?”

“She takes Buster for a walk then works out.”

That explained the tight ass if she worked out every day. “Do you know if she and Kim lock the house?” I was surprised that my father hadn’t installed surveillance on the house at some point over the years. I made a mental note to ask him about it.

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