Page 24 of Snowed in with the Bodyguard

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I swallow hard, my throat tightening. There’s no cocky retort for this, no deflection.

I look at her,reallylook at her. She’s pale, worn from everything we’ve been through, but her eyes shine with a fire that refuses to be extinguished.

“And you’re mine,” I finally murmur.

Her lips part in surprise as she studies me, and her eyes fill with tears. The silence between us is thick, weighted with the things we’ve been too scared to say.

“You know,” she starts, her voice soft, almost hesitant, “when this all started, I thought you were this stoic, unshakable protector my father hired. A means to an end.” She pauses, a faint smile curving her lips. “But now, I see you. The real you. And Jack... you’re so much more than I ever expected.”

Her words unravel something inside me, a tightly wound thread I didn’t realize existed. I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I’m not used to, but I don’t back away. Because with Holly, I don’t have to.

“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,” I murmur, my gaze locking onto hers. “Your strength, your humor, your fire—it’s all I can think about. All I want.”

Her breath catches, her eyes widening slightly. I see the emotion ripple across her face—surprise, warmth, something deeper.

She leans closer, her free hand brushing against my cheek. “Then stop overthinking, you beautiful man,” she whispers, her lips quirking into a small smile. “And kiss me.”

I don’t need to be told twice. Careful not to jostle her leg, I slide onto the leather sofa beside her. I gather her close, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s more than passion—it’s a promise. A vow. Whatever comes next, whatever hell we have to face, we’ll do it together.

A faint moan escapes her as I pull back. “Jack, I need you.”

I shake my head, fighting the desire to sink inside her supple body, to reassure myself she’s okay after nearly losing her. “No, baby girl. You’re too sore, and you need to rest.”

She sighs, knowing I’m right. Her bottom lip pushes out in a pout. “Spoilsport.”

I take her hand and press it against my hard cock. “Believe me, he agrees. He wants nothing more than to be buried in your wet little pussy, and I’ll be only too happy to oblige him once your leg has healed.”

Holly’s eyes kindle, her previously pale cheeks now flushed. “Do you always talk about your penis in the third person?”

I tip my head back and laugh, a spontaneous, full-bellied laugh that releases the tension I’ve been holding for what feels like years. Fuck, she’s precious. When my gaze returns to hers, she’s watching me with fascination.

“Dear God, you were hot before, but when you laugh like that”—she fans herself with her hand—“if I were wearing panties, they’d be incinerated.”

I groan, dropping my forehead to hers. “Now is not the time to tell me you’re not wearing panties, Hollyberry.”

“It’s not?” she asks innocently. She flips our hands so mine is pressed against her pussy. “Since we’re talking about our genitals in the third person, she thinks it’s a great time and can’t wait to welcome your big, thick cock inside her again. She’s so empty without him.”

“Fuck, you’re torturing me, woman,” I growl, nipping her bottom lip before forcing myself away from her. As much as my cock screams to be inside her, I won’t put my needs above her comfort. Despite the lust bubbling between us, she needs to rest and heal.

Holly gives a resigned sigh, admitting defeat. “So, what’s next, hero?” she asks, her voice soft but steady.

I pace in front of the sofa. “We’re safe here while we decide our next move. There’s a satellite phone, so I thought we should try to call your father.”

Holly tenses, and her expression shutters. “Yes. I have a few things to say to him. But is it safe? It can’t be traced?”

“It’s a government model with strong encryption. We’ll be fine as long as we keep it short.”

Holly nods. “Okay, let’s do it.”

I move to the kitchen, picking up the satellite phone from the charger and dialing her father’s number from memory. As I move back to the living area, each ring is a reminder of the manat the other end—a man I work for, but now, a man I resent for putting Holly through all of this.

“Hello?” His voice is cold and measured, every word calculated. “Who is this? If you think you can barter?—”

“Sir, it’s Jack,” I interrupt, keeping my tone neutral.

“Jack? Where are you? Is my daughter safe? Is she alive?” Is that genuine concern in his voice?

“Yes, she’s alive. We’re in a safe house in the mountains. We had some trouble on the way, had to leave the car. I’m using an encrypted satellite phone, but we should keep this short. What are your instructions?”

---