Page 49 of Ruthless Guardian

My heart staggers a beat, unexpected warmth filling my chest. My expression must show it because he runs his palmacross the back of his nape, a rosy hue coating the warm caramel of his cheeks.

“It’s nothing,principessa. Don’t get all emotional or anything. I couldn’t be seen walking around Roma with you in those hideous things.” He ticks his head at my Hokas and all the warm and fuzzies vanish.

“Jackass,” I mutter.

“Well, if you don’t want them…” He hides the expensive shoes behind his back, and I lunge for him.

“I do want them!” I reach around him, encircling his waist as he steps back into his room. “Raf, give me the Pradas!”

“But I know how much you love those old, ratty things?—”

“Raf!” I leap at him, sending us both staggering backward. He must have hit the end of the bed because the next thing I know he’s falling and dragging me down with him.

We land in a heap atop the floral bedspread, my shiny, new sneakers trapped behind his back.

I pin the grinningbastardoto the mattress. “Hand them over.”

“Only if you say please.”

“Please, asshole.”

“In Italian and drop the asshole part,principessa.”

“Per piacere.” I drag it out through my teeth, bastardizing the Italian with my best American accent.

He chuckles and lifts up, freeing my sneakers but also, rubbing hishardcock across my center. Heated, forbidden images of the night before flood my mind, and I freeze. He mutters a curse because he’s clearly felt it too before snapping my hair tie around his wrist which he’s commandeered as his new bracelet. And now I can’t keep my gaze from dropping between us to his ever-hardening dick.

Merda, this man isn’t human. How could anyone get turned on that quickly?

I scramble off and snatch my new Pradas before that heat pulsing at my apex reaches uncomfortable levels. He stands as I attempt to scurry back into the safety of my room, but steel bands lace around my bicep before I can get away.

“Wait.” He spins me around, hauling me so close our noses practically touch. His musky, amber scent envelops me, forcing another round of memories from the hotel back to the surface. “Maybe we should talk about the other night…”

“No!” I squeal.

“Why not?”

“Nothing happened,” I grind out.

His eyes flash, something unreadable streaking through the dark abyss. “Fine,” he growls an endless moment later, and his fingers unravel from my arm.

“Now, let’s just go for that walk, okay?”

He nods, and I skitter out of his room like a kid who got caught stealing candy from the grocery store. Why oh, why did I think getting drunk with my psycho bodyguard was a good idea?

The pitter-patter of cobblestones echoes beneath the soles of my new sneakers as Raf steers me down one of Rome’s narrower streets, his hand light on my elbow. I can’t decide if it’s more to guide or guard, but either way, it chafes. Especially after that unfinished conversation I refuse to revisit.

“There,” Raf says, nodding towards the Pantheon with its massive columns and domed roof standing proud against the sky. “Built by Emperor Hadrian around 126 AD. Originally a temple for all pagan gods.”

I arch an eyebrow, glancing at him. “A bodyguard and a tour guide, Raf? Is there no end to your talents?”

He gives me a small, almost imperceptible smile like he’s been doing all afternoon, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I did say full-service security in my resume, didn’t I?”

Laughing, I shake my head and let him lead me closer to the ancient building. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A whisper of heat streaks up my core at the full-service comment, but I shove it down and focus on the oculus overhead as we step inside. The sunlight streams through the circular opening, bathing the marble floors in a warm, golden light. “Imagine all the rain falling through there on stormy days.”

“It couldn’t have been pleasant. And still, did you know the great artist Raphael chose to be buried here because he was inspired by the beauty of the Pantheon? He said it was a fitting resting place for an artist.”

I roll my eyes. “You made that up.”

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