Page 14 of The Bodyguard's Vow

Every day, I told myself to send her to her brother’s house and end this torture, yet every damn day, I couldn’t bring myself to let her go.

“Good morning, Domenico.”

Gabriella’s soft, sleepy voice floated to my ears, and her honeysuckle and jasmine scent filled my lungs. Who needed morning coffee when they could soak up all of Gabriella’s sweetness?

Steeling myself against the lust I knew was about to slam into me, I slowly turned away from the living room window. I’d been scanning the street for anything out of place, and once again, lecturing my dick to stand the fuck down.

I nearly sighed in relief when she padded across the room toward the kitchen in a T-shirt and shorts, although they showed off far too much of her long, sexy legs.Motherfucker! Stop picturing them wrapped around your head, De Angelis!

“Buongiorno, Gabriella.”

Her brown eyes melted whenever I spoke to her in Italian, and it was a guilty pleasure that I couldn’t seem to quit.

“Aston has me building the newest exhibit at the gallery, so I’ll be meeting with several collectors and museum curators over the next week.”

Aston managed The Family’s largest art gallery and museum in Atlanta. He was also one of the world’s most talented forgers and handled all of the smuggling operations in and out of France—where he was from. His brother, Charles, still lived there and ran things from the Paris end of the operation.

“He mentioned it when we spoke yesterday.” I took a drink from my mug. “I have the list of places you need to visit.”

Gabriella’s lips twisted with annoyance, which shouldn't have looked adorable, but she managed it somehow. “I am perfectly capable of managing my life, Domenico. You’re my bodyguard, not my babysitter.”

“Fidati di me, sole,I see the woman you’ve grown into. That’s the problem.”

Gabriella’s jaw went slack as she gaped at me, and it hit me that I’d said the last part out loud.Shit.

“Go get ready, Gabriella,” I ordered gruffly.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and I knew she was trying to formulate a response. I couldn’t go there. Talking about my desire for her would make it real. At least this way, I could lie to myself that it was all in my head.

“Domenico—”

“We aren’t discussing this, Gabriella. Go.”

Her lips compressed into a straight line, and her eyes clouded with resentment. “You can’t avoid a discussion about us forever, Domenico.”

“There is no us,sole.”

Gabriella glared at me before spinning around and marching back to her bedroom.

I heard the shower turn on and shook my head to clear away the fantasies of her wet, naked body. Water sliding down every curve, her silky skin pressed against mine—fuck! I barely avoided throwing my mug at the nearest wall as I struggled to reclaim my self-discipline.

Clenching the cup in my hand, I stalked to the kitchen and poured the remaining contents down the sink. Then I gripped the edge of the counter and took several deep, slow breaths.

Even as a child, I’d been a master of my emotions. They were there. I wasn’t dead inside. I simply had a tight rein on them, allowing me to pick and choose the times when they were appropriate. When Gabriella returned from New York, it was the first time I felt a fissure in the walls I’d built around myself. Being so close to her every day, every minute, I felt those fractures growing into cracks. With enough pressure, I was afraid she would breach them completely.

When I felt more stable, I went into the guest room and gathered up my clothes and toiletries. I waited until I heard her bedroom door close, then I made my way into the bathroom. Honeysuckle and jasmine lingered in the air, and I wondered again how she smelled so incredible. When I moved in, I’d looked for body wash, shampoo, or some kind of fragrance but hadn’t found anything. The scent was simply Gabriella. And I suspected that her pussy would taste just as sweet.

Porca puttana.

I hurried through my shower, dressed, then used some gel to tame my curly hair, which had been the bane of my existence since I was a kid. When I emerged from the bathroom, Gabriella was in the kitchen drinking from a mug that said,I get away with everything. It’s adorable, really.

Her mug collection made me chuckle a few times over the past few weeks. Especially when I saw the ones that saidMesswith me, and you’ll be sleeping with the fishesandKeep talking—I know a guy.

“Are you ready to go,sole?” I asked as I tucked my keys and wallet into my pocket before slipping my gun into my holster.

“Yes,” she answered flatly as she rinsed her cup and added it to the dishwasher.

Once we were out of her apartment and in the car headed to her first appointment, I finally lost some of the sexual tension that had been eating away at me in such a confined space with way too many flat surfaces to fuck on.

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