Page 9 of Rescuing Sophia

We leave the apartment, and she stays close, her body pressing against mine with every step. My mind races with desire, determination, and disgust. I have to stay professional. I cannot, and will not, take advantage of her.

In the cafeteria, she picks at her food, her eyes never leaving mine.

“So.” Her voice is silky smooth. “Tell me about yourself. How did you end up with the Guardians?”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “I used to be in the Navy. After I got out, I joined Guardian HRS. It’s a good fit for me. I like the work we do.”

“I bet you do.” Her eyes gleam. “You seem like the kind of man who enjoys helping people.”

“Something like that.” My gaze lingers on her rosebud lips, drawn to them for a moment too long. The urge to close the distance and taste her is almost overwhelming.

She smiles, slow and seductive, the kind of smile that makes my pulse race and my blood burn. “Well, thank you—for everything.” Her fingers curl around mine, her touch sparking a fire that threatens to consume my self-control.

Every instinct urges me to lean in, to close the distance between us, but I force myself to stay steady. I can’t let this happen, no matter how much I want it. The battle inside me rages, desire clashing with duty. I must keep my distance and protect her from myself.

As we finish our meal and return to her room, the tension between us intensifies. She moves close, her fingers brushing my arm, sending jolts of electricity through me. When we reach her door, she turns to me, her eyes shining with gratitude.

“Thank you.” She lifts on tiptoe and gently kisses my cheek.

My skin burns, and my groin heats.

“Goodnight, Sophia.” I swallow hard, my pulse racing. As I turn to leave, her voice and a gentle hand on my arm stop me.

“Would you mind staying a bit longer? I’m scared to be alone in this strange place.”

Kill me. Just kill me now. I will not survive this torture.

But I’ll do it—fuck me—I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Even if it means fighting my desires every step of the way.

“I’ll stay.” I force a smile.

“Unless you have somewhere to be, or someone to see?” Her voice is tentative, probing for information.

She’s fishing for clues about my personal life, whether I’m married, attached, or have a girlfriend. Still, her tone also shows genuine nervousness about staying alone in an unfamiliar place.

“There’s no one waiting for me, Sophia.” My voice softens. “I’d enjoy the company too.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she offers a small, grateful smile. It makes me want to stay close to her, not out of duty but because I genuinely enjoy her presence.

I step into Sophia’s new apartment for the second time, my heart pounding. The familiar scent of lavender mingles with the faint smell of fresh paint. The soft, incandescent light casts a warm glow on her features, accentuating the delicate curve of her jaw and the intensity of her stormy eyes.

My gaze shifts to a package on the coffee table that wasn’t there before—a distraction, a welcome one—but the electric tension between us is impossible to ignore. Her nearness stirs desire and trepidation, a battle raging within me.

“Looks like someone left you something.” I gesture to the package. My voice is steadier than I feel; each moment with her tests my self-control.

Sophia’s eyes light up as she tears into it, pulling out comfortable-looking pajamas, toiletries, and other necessities. At the bottom, a handwritten note catches her eye. She reads it silently, a soft smile spreading across her face.

“It’s from Jenna.” She clasps the note to her chest, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “She’s happy I’m here and can’t wait to see me once I’m settled in.” Her voice wavers slightly, the joy in her expression tempered by guilt. “I can’t believe I’m free, that I get tosee my friend again. But—I feel horrible for what I did to her. It’s my fault she was taken. If I hadn’t…” Her voice trails off, the guilt and relief mingling in her eyes as she looks up at me, seeking reassurance.

My chest tightens at the vulnerability in her eyes. I clear my throat, searching for words that won’t betray the storm of emotions inside me.

I step forward, closing the distance between us. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“It’s okay,” I murmur into her hair. “Jenna doesn’t blame you—none of us do. You had no choice, and we understand how horrible that was.”

The hug lingers—two seconds, three—five long seconds. She relaxes into me, her body slowly melting into the embrace. Her arms wrap around my waist, clutching me like I’m her lifeline.

I breathe in, catching the subtle blend of her perfume and lavender, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us, bound together in this intimate, comforting embrace.

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