Page 126 of The Bodyguard Situation

We stay close, his forehead pressed to mine, our ragged breaths mingling. Tears prick behind my eyes again, but they come from something that can only be felt deep inside as he breaks me open.

“I love you, Harp,” he whispers, like he can’t hold it in any longer.

My breath catches on the inhale, and he kisses me like tomorrow will never come.

“I love you, Brody,” I say against his hot mouth that’s desperate for mine. “I’ve been in love with you for a long damn time,” I confess.

We keep moving like time bends around us. It’s the kind of intimacy that doesn’t burn, but glows bright in the darkness.

Brody Calloway is my sunshine, and his love for me lights the way.

32

BRODY

I’m still inside her when I realize I could’ve died tonight.

Her legs are wrapped around me, her lips still parted from the last kiss, and her fingertips skim the sweat along my back like she’s grounding both of us. Our bodies are pressed tight, skin to skin, heart to heart. The world narrows to the sound of her breathing and how she sighs my name like it’s the only thing holding us together.

I keep moving, but it’s now deeper, drawn out, like I can’t stand the thought of letting her go. My body is aching in places I won’t admit out loud. Bruises are layered deep under my skin, but none of it matters when she looks at me like I’m not broken. Like I’m hers.

Her hands grip my shoulders, not to pull me closer, but tokeepme here. With her. In this moment. Where the fear has finally faded, and what’s left is just us. We’re unguarded, our movements raw, and something wraps around us that feels too big to name.

“I needed you,” she whispers, her voice thick with everything we haven’t said.

“You’re all I could think about.” My voice cracks as I lower my mouth to her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there. Then another. Then another. Each one is gentler than the last. “If that shot had gone any other direction?—”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

She shuts me up with a kiss that’s more desperate than the others. Her hands slide into my hair, her hips lifting to meet mine again. There’s nothing frantic about it, but there’s an undeniable urgency. There’s meaning. Like she’s writing something permanent into me with every breath and every movement.

I bury myself deeper inside her, and it hits me all at once. I’ve never made love like this. Never moved like this. Never needed someone the way I need Harper right now. It’s not just the sex or the closeness, but theknowing. The truth of her under my hands, the way her body gives, welcomes, holds me like she’s claiming me. It’s understanding and seeing one another for exactly who we are.

I want to be claimed. By her. Only her.

Her legs tighten around my waist, and I brace a hand above her head; the other slides around the back of her neck. She’s everything I never thought I deserved. And somehow, she’s still here, still choosing me as we make love.

I feel it before she says anything—her body tightening, her breath catching. I hold her gaze through it, watching the way her mouth falls open, the way her brows pinch together as she clings to me like she’s afraid she’ll come apart if I let go.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Let go, Harp.”

She breathlessly breaks in my arms, and I follow a heartbeat later, spilling into her with a groan that sounds more like surrender than release. My body collapses over hers, but I catch myself with one arm, not wanting to crush her, but I’m not ready to pull away.

Not ever.

For a long time, we don’t move. We just breathe, staying tangled in each other. Our skin is damp, hearts still racing, as her fingers trace lines along my back. I know I’ll never forget the feeling. The after. The way this doesn’t feel like sex at all. It feels like survival, like coming home.

The room is warm, filled with the scent of Harper’s skin and the echo of the way she whispered my name when I came undone inside her.

I lie beside her for a while, her fingers tracing patterns along my ribs, her legs tangled with mine, like we’re afraid to let go. Part of me doesn’t want to move at all. I want to stay right here, memorize the rhythm of her breathing and the way her chest rises and falls, but the ache in my shoulder is setting in now. My body’s starting to hum with the pain of the night, and it reminds me I’m stitched together by adrenaline and determination.

I press a kiss to her temple, then shift to sit up.

“I need a quick shower,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

She nods without speaking, her eyes heavy-lidded, watching me like she doesn’t want me too far away from her. I stand, stretching, and the tight pull across my ribs reminds me of the fight in the basement. Being slammed down on the concrete floor. The loud sound of the gunshot in my ear.

My jaw clenches as I enter the bathroom, trying to shake the flash of Micah’s face and deranged eyes from my mind.

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