Page 64 of The Bodyguard

Sawyer’s soft lips brushed hers with a saltwater kiss sweet enough to boil her insides. His hungry hands kneaded into her sides, but his kiss tortured her. She melted in his arms. His mouth moved over hers, teasing, parting her lips with his tongue.

Desire rumbled in his chest, tangling with their kiss. Her tongue touched his. Electricity and insanity spiraled down her spine. She’d never known need this intense.

And then it ended.

Sawyer gently kissed her again. Chaste and sweet. He squeezed her close and then relaxed his grip. Angela wanted to scream. Her eyes opened. He was watching her again. This time, his eyes had a different look, one she hated.

His eyes pinched, and a sad smile hung on his beautiful face. “Sorry.”

The apology was too much. Her arousal morphed into anger. She wanted to ask questions, but all she could do was push away and tread the water. “Don’t say that.”

His grin hitched. “Then I’m not sorry.”

She didn’t like that either. Her lips pursed.

Sawyer grabbed her arm and pulled it to his neck. “I can’t let you drown.”

“I’m a strong swimmer,” she protested, looking to bicker. “I don’t need your help.”

Sawyer ignored her and guided them back toward the shore.

Sawyer didn’t want to let Angela go. When they reached shallower water, he could have given her space. Actually, he couldn’t. He didn’t want her angry and running off. But he let her go.

They walked out of the water, inches apart but miles away. Salt water slid down her face. The sun had turned her cheeks pink, and her hair was wild. But gone was the carefree happiness she’d radiated earlier. That was his fault. He should say something, but nothing had come to mind since the moment he realized he had crossed the line.

She’d crossed it with him.

That didn’t matter. They were in two very different places. Angela was rebounding from Paul, and Sawyer… Sawyer had a past that would always haunt him.

Years had passed since he’d been in love, not to mention in pain. That he could see similarities between the two women who were nothing alike terrified him, and it wasn’t fair to either woman.

Even thinking about that made him feel ill. There was more to his friendship with—and attraction to—Angela than he wanted to admit. The last week had avalanched over him in a way that he couldn’t have predicted and didn’t know how to make sense of.

“I’m exhausted.” She cupped a hand over her eyes and searched for the belongings she’d tossed. “And I’m shriveled up like a raisin.”

They had drifted. He spotted her hat and shoes but let her lead the way to where they had started. The water excursion hadn’t been planned. They didn’t have towels or chairs, but she sat in the sand at the edge of the waves’ reach.

Neither of them talked about what had just happened. He made himself comfortable at her side. Their legs extended in front of them.

Angela leaned back on her elbows. Should he say something? Sawyer didn’t know what to say, so he lay down and let the sun beat against him.

Maybe he should have let her pull together an agenda for the day because he didn’t know what to do next.

A football skidded across the water and bumped against his knee. Sawyer palmed it, saw the kids who had been throwing it—they looked very similar to the kids from the beach house—and lofted the ball. They squealed in delight and were definitely the same kids.

“I know those shrieks,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the canopy that the family had staked up. A woman raised her arm to thank him for throwing the ball.

The ball sailed back toward Sawyer but fell short a few yards. Grateful for the distraction and unable to resist a football, he lumbered off the sand and returned the throw.

A kid threw back with increased accuracy.

“Nice throw,” Sawyer called.

Angela pulled her hat on and then leaned onto her elbows again. “Looks like you made a friend.”

Her voice didn’t have the slightest sound of irritation as after he’d kissed her in the ocean. Partly relieved but semi-disappointed, he laughed and lofted the ball back.

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