Page 6 of Her UnBearable Protector

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Natale couldn't help feeling like there wasn't enough room in the elevator. She'd tried to argue with Salvatore that she would be fine at home. The security in her apartment building was top notch, but that hadn't been enough for him. He'd insisted on driving her to her building and coming up with her to her apartment.

The instant they'd stepped into the elevator she'd felt a distinct worry set in. It wasn't fear. She didn't fear the larger-than-life man standing between her and the door.

She wished that were the problem. If it was, one call to her father would have seen Salvatore Orsino on his way. But ever since they'd left the workshop he'd been at her side, front, and back, watching the world around them and keeping her safe. It would be all too easy for her to give in and enjoy the moments, and maybe forget that the whole reason he was there was because some idiot had sent a bunch of letters with some crude comments and some thinly veiled threats to her.

Turning slightly, she took another look at her bodyguard. He must have some money, she decided. The clothes he wore were tailored - they had to be - no one walked into a store with his kind of physique and bought off a rack.

She'd made her share of men’s clothes in design school. Her teachers believed that a designer wasn't really a designer if they were able to utter the words, “I've never made a suit before.” Her eyes drifted over the cut and fit of the pants and knew her first assessment was right. Without seeing what was under his suit, she could still tell that he was fit. The work that had been done to make him look as effortless as he did and not make his muscular body look comical, like an oversized sausage, had been done by a talented tailor. She struggled not to speak up and ask Salvatore for the name of his tailor. She wanted to send the man a thank you note for a job well done.

The elevator chimed and opened on her floor. She waited while Salvatore stepped off and looked down both sides of the hallway before he gestured for her to come out after him.

As they walked together down the hallway, he spoke to her in low tones that made his voice sound rough enough to be a growl. “Until we catch this man, one of us needs to be with you at all times.”

“One of us?” She nearly tripped over her feet. “How many of you are there?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he held out his hand for her keys at the door and made quick work of unlocking it. He paused for a moment with the handle in his hand. “I want to check the apartment before I let you come in, but I can't leave you standing here in the open.”

She could tell by the tick of a muscle in his jaw that it wasn't just something he said. The idea of leaving her in the open bothered him.

Nodding, she looked up at him. “So what do we do now?”

“You follow me,” he explained, and his tone brooked no arguments, “stay behind.”

He didn't wait for an answer. Quite frankly, she didn't think he needed one.

Salvatore started to move forward, and she set her hand on his back. He held still for a moment, looking back over his shoulder at her. He wasn't upset. If anything, the look on his face told a different story. He liked her touching him.

The trouble was, she liked it too.

She followed him into the apartment and through the living area, wincing at the stack of magazines on the table, gossip mags that she swore she only read for the fashion.

The kitchen, with its appliances that she could almost claim were retro instead of old.

The back hallway, which completed a square that would bring them back around to the living area. He opened the doors to each room and looked into each of the two bathrooms before he stopped back in the living room.

“We’re alone.”

And instead of making her feel safer, it only ratcheted up her anxiety. In her home, she felt his presence more, because even though she refused to acknowledge it, it felt good to have him there.

No. Good didn't even come close to covering how it made her feel.

Having him there, toe to toe with her, drawing his scent in with every heady breath, made her ache for all of this craziness to be over. She was sure that all of the stress and strain of the upcoming show and the letters were responsible for her ridiculous feelings. Salvatore Orsino was a man who commanded attention and she was a woman who spent a good deal of her life being invisible. On an every day basis they didn’t exist in the same universe.

“Natale?”

She heard her name on his tongue and she met his gaze.

His lips lifted slightly at the corners, and as Natale looked at him, she felt a flash of heat roll through her and as she locked onto his eyes she saw the whites bleed to black and back to white again. She knew that her mind was playing tricks on her. What she had seen couldn’t be real. She need rest or to cut back on caffeine. Something.

Still, she couldn’t look away. He was a gorgeous man, but he was also a feast for her eyes. This close to him, the strong features she'd noticed before were suddenly made of chiseled granite or marble.

But, cold stone wasn't what she felt when he was close to her, and even across the room at the workshop, she'd felt his eyes on her. Sought him out with her eyes when she had a moment.

Being this close to him only solidified her gut reaction to him.

He was, in a word, lickable. ‘Head to toe, over the abs and butt, and – oh my god, what is wrong with me?’

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