Page 94 of South Beach Bodyguards

He had on black jeans that he wore really, really well, and one of those form-fitting T-shirts that showed all of his muscles. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to yank his shirt up and lick his chest. Damn it.

“I’m your bodyguard,” he said. “I’m guarding your body.”

Holy crap, why did he have to say that? My nipples hardened, remembering what he could do to me. I wished I wasn’t standing so I could cross my legs and quiet the ache he’d immediately brought to life. “You don’t need to do anything with my body.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The corner of his mouth went up in that sly, sexy smile that made me lose all inhibitions. “No?” he murmured. “There’s nothing you need me to do with your body? To your body? Nothing at all?”

That had me flustered, despite my intentions to stay angry and nothing more. “You’re supposed to be staying away from me.”

“I never agreed to that. I said I wouldn’t see you again.”

I frowned. “It’s loud in here, so obviously I heard you wrong because those are the same thing.”

“Who is this and does he have a friend?” Clara asked, tugging on my arm.

“He’s leaving.” Though I couldn’t resist pointing out the bandage on Wester’s arm. “By the way, I see you finally came to your senses and wrapped that wound.”

He shrugged, then turned to Clara and put out his hand. “I’m Wester, Olivia’s bodyguard.”

“You have a bodyguard?” Clara squawked, blinking at me with glassy and drunken eyes. “Shut. Up.”

“He belongs to Ricardo,” I said, because I knew that was rude and I was feeling petty. I couldn’t believe he was following me. I had been dancing with a bear of a guy who kept attempting to grind on me off-rhythm, but then I had glanced over and spotted Wester. It had instantly ruined my night. At first I had thought it was a coincidence or he might go away, but no, he had lingered. Watching me.

His eyes narrowed and I knew I had pushed it too far. That was just mean to refer to him as Ricardo’s property. So I masked my discomfit with more sarcasm. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with some hottie, Mr. 305? All you need is designer sunglasses and every girl in here will be all over you.”

“But then no one could see my beautiful eyes. Remember, you said how beautiful they are.” The smirk was back.

I had. Because they were. “Clara, can you go get me a drink?”

“No. This is way too good to miss.”

I turned and glared at her. “Please.”

“Fine.” She made a face. “Don’t leave me by myself though.”

“I would never do that!” I wouldn’t. The girl code didn’t allow it. “If anyone is leaving, it’s Wester. I’m going outside with him for two minutes. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ve been summoned,” Wester told Clara, giving her a wink. “Hold down the fort.”

I rolled my eyes. I breezed past the bouncer and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The air humid, as usual, and windy. My hair whipped across my face. I was never into South Beach on the best days, and now the press of the crowds walking past the club and the glare of the lights was really not helping my mood. This was supposed to fun. I had sort of been having fun until Wester had appeared. But not really. I didn’t want men grinding on me. Unless they were Wester.

“What did you want to say?” he asked me, putting his hands into his pockets. My eyes inadvertently went to his crotch. I couldn’t see anything but I knew what was there.

I had forgotten what I was planning to say. I was confused and freaked out and it was all his fault. “This is a disaster,” I wailed, too drunk to hold back the swell of emotion.

He looked alarmed and who could blame him? I was acting like a split personality. Furious one minute, crying the next. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t see you, don’t you understand? I can’t be living my life and then look out into the crowd and there you are at random intervals. It’s… disruptive.” It was too much of a reminder. Of warm skin and fear and finding an anchor in his eyes.

Someone walked by smoking a cigarette and the smoke blew right in my face.

“Watch it,” Wester said to the guy.

The guy glared back. “Chill, it was an accident.”

“See, I don’t need you to do that for me,” I said, gesturing at the man’s back as he kept walking. “I don’t need you to be my muscle. That’s not a thing I need in my world. My real life, far away from my sister’s life.”

“But now you’re in your sister’s world, too. You need protection and if Ricardo can’t or won’t provide it, I’m going to. It’s my moral responsibility.”

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