Page 28 of Snowed in with the Bodyguard

I put the casserole in the oven and set the timer—I have an hour to seduce the man I love.

I move quietly to the sofa, sitting on the edge as I watch him. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the firelight dancing across the planes of his face. Even in sleep, he exudes strength, his body honed for protection, for action. My fingers itch to trace the softness of his beard, to savor the warmth of his skin.

As if sensing me, he shifts slightly, his eyes fluttering open. They’re unfocused for a moment before they land on me, and then they soften, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. “What’s got you staring?”

“Just thinking,” I say lightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You look… peaceful.”

His smile fades slightly, replaced by a hint of self-awareness. “I shouldn’t. I should’ve been watching you.”

“You’ve been watching me all week, Jack. You deserve a break.”

He sits up slowly. “You’re not a break, Holly. You’re my priority.”

Something tightens in my chest at his words. “And you’re mine,” I reply softly, my hand finding his. “But you don’t have to protect me from everything, Jack. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

I wave a hand dismissively. “I’ve been resting for a week. I practically grew roots into the sofa. Besides, I’m only making dinner.”

His gaze flicks to my injured leg, still wrapped in bandages beneath the soft joggers I’m wearing. He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he shifts his position to sit fully upright. “You’ve been through hell, Holly. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m not proving anything,” I reply, my tone softening. “I wanted to do something for us. Something normal.”

Jack’s expression shifts, his usual sternness giving way to something tender. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against my knee. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know. That’s my job.”

I smile, covering his hand with mine. “And who’s supposed to take care of you, Jack?”

His lips twitch into a faint smile, though a shadow of worry still lingers in his eyes. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” I tease, earning a low chuckle from him.

Our mutual stubbornness is becoming a familiar dynamic—one that feels more like a bond than a battle. Jack’s protective nature and my determination to reclaim some control over my life are constantly at odds, but they’re also what keeps us moving forward.

Putting stage one of my seduction plan into place, I lean forward, capturing his mouth in a kiss and swiping my tongue over his bottom lip.

Jack groans, his hand sliding through my hair to cup the back of my head as he deepens the kiss. “You’re healing,” he says, breathing heavily as he pulls back. “I’m not risking setting you back.”

“You won’t,” I insist, frustration creeping into my tone. “I know my limits. And I know yours.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening. I can see the war waging inside him. “I don’t want to hurt you, Holly?—”

“I’m already hurting, Jack. I ache here”—I cup my breasts—“and here”—I slide one of my hands between my legs. “Ivy is empty and lonely.”

Jack’s brows pull down in a frown. “Ivy?”

I nod. “My vagina. If I’m Holly, she should be Ivy, right?”

A grin tugs at his mouth. “By that reasoning, are you saying my cock should be called Frost?”

I purse my lips, pretending to think about it. “Jack Frost. I like it. Although, Ivy recalls that there’s nothing ‘frosty’ about him. Beanstalk would be more appropriate.”

Jack’s shoulders shake with laughter. The sound is warm and rich, making me ache for him.

“Beanstalk, eh?” His grin widens as his hands find my hips. His touch is firm, and sends a delicious shiver through me. “Is Ivy ready to climb Beanstalk?”

“Oh, she’s ready,” I counter, my voice sultry as I lean closer, letting my lips graze his ear. “She’s been ready since the last time Beanstalk gave her a ride.”

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