Page 37 of Quickies

His soft admission was like a needle into my heart.

He was the center of my world, the only omega I saw, my sun. Seeing him sad was worse than watching over him as he went to dinners and galas with all those schmucks.

“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

His soulful eyes met mine, glassy and red-rimmed. “Dear Boone, it’s not your responsibility. I apologize for dumping this on you. You must be tired. Go to bed.”

“Not until you’re settled in your bedroom, sir.”

He smirked. “Always the protocol. Are you going to tuck me in?”

“Your safety is most important.” I walked over to the door to the master bedroom and held it open for him.

“I won’t be able to sleep anyway,” he muttered as he entered past me.

I hated to leave him like this. But what could I do? I was his bodyguard. Not his alpha, not even his friend.

“I hope you’ll have a good night, Mr. Olivier.” I felt like an ass saying that when I knew he’d have a miserable night. He’d be alone and unhappy. I gritted my teeth and turned away.

“Boone, wait.”

I spun around. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you help me?”

He stood with his back to me. The shimmering sheer top he wore was tied with delicate strings along his spine. It looked beautiful on him, encasing his smooth torso like a second skin, but earlier today, he’d needed the help of his stylist to put it on. A stylist who wasn’t here now.

“Of course.” My voice trembled, but hopefully, he didn’t notice. I cleared my throat as I stepped closer.

Careful not to brush his skin, I loosened the strings.

“Thank you.”

His scent assaulted me like always. My insides tightened, and my cock stirred. I hated my body for its primitive reaction. Mr. Olivier deserved better than my lust. Was he aware of the effect he had on me?

He stretched his neck and let out a tired groan.

“You’re my hero, Boone. It’s a pity I can’t ask you to go downstairs, beat the sleazebag up, then come back and hold my hand as I fall asleep. Or just massage my back and draw me a bath.”

He meant it as a joke. But just the notion of touching his naked skin made my dick harden. I hoped the hem of my jacket covered the worst of it.

I took a step back and hung my head. It must have been guilt that prompted me to blurt the next sentence.

“I’d do anything for you, Mr. Olivier.”

I shouldn’t have said it, but it was the truth. I’d happily lie on the ground in the rain and have him walk on my body so he wouldn’t get his shoes wet.

But I shouldn’t have said it.

The silence stretched. I longed to hear my angel’s breaths, his beating heart, but the only sound was a distant whooshing of an elevator.

“You mean that?” he whispered after a long minute.

“I hate seeing you upset,” I managed.

“You’ve said that, yes. But that could mean many different things.”

I didn’t dare to lift my gaze. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

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