Page 41 of Escorting the Bodyguard
She’s close enough now that I could reach for her, but I don’t. This has to be her choice. I can feel the pull between us. The same magnetic tension we felt every night we shared a bed, that made every casual touch electric. She must feel it too, because her breathing has changed, become more shallow.
“I want to try too,” she says softly, and relief hits me like a physical blow. My knees go weak, and I have to steady myself against the wall. For a second, I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare at her and feel the crushing weight of the last few weeks finally lift off my chest.
She searches my face one more time, looking for something. Whatever she finds there must satisfy her, because she closes the distance between us, her hand coming up to rest against my chest. The simple touch sends heat racing through my veins.
“I love you,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I’ve been in love with you since you fell asleep in my arms and made me want to be the kind of man who gets to keep you. I was just too scared to admit it.”
Her eyes fill with tears, but she’s smiling. “Ford...”
“I love you, Gemma. And I’m going to spend every day proving I’m worth the risk.”
When she rises up on her toes to kiss me, it’s like a dam breaking. Regret and longing and desperate hope crash together in that moment. I cradle her face in my hands, kissing her likeshe’s air and I’ve been drowning, like she’s the answer to every prayer I didn’t know I was making.
She melts against me, and when she sighs my name against my lips, I know we’re going to be okay.
More than okay.
We’re going to be everything.
14
Gemma
The kiss iseverything I’ve been starving for without knowing it. Ford’s hands frame my face like I’m something precious, and when his mouth meets mine, all the careful control I’ve maintained for weeks dissolves. He’s kissing me like I’m air and he’s been drowning, like he’s trying to pour every apology, every promise, every desperate declaration into this one point of connection.
When I sigh his name against his lips, something shifts between us. I’m not the composed woman who’s been building a life alone anymore. I’m just Gemma, raw and wanting.
“Gemma,” he breathes against my mouth, my name sounding like a prayer.
His hand finds the back of my neck, fingers gentle, and we stand there breathing each other in, everything we’ve been through pressing close like a second skin.
After what feels like hours, but is probably only moments, I take his hand without a word and lead him toward the bedroom.
I move toward the bedside lamp, but Ford's hand catches my wrist before I can turn it on.
I look at him, and I see the hesitation there. The vulnerability of someone who’s spent years hiding the broken parts. His jaw ticks once before he meets my eyes.
“I want to see you.” I don’t push. Just wait.
His gaze holds mine for a long moment. One breath. Two. I can practically see him wrestling with years of hiding, of keeping the damaged parts locked away in darkness.
Then he lets go of the switch and leaves the light on.
It’s such a small thing. But it feels like everything.
We stand there, neither of us moving. The space between us hums with anticipation and nerves and the weight of what we’re choosing. Then he steps toward me and kisses me. Slow, careful, like he’s relearning something precious he thought he’d lost.
My hands drift to his shoulders, and I feel the tension coiled there. He’s trying to stay relaxed, but his body is braced for rejection he thinks might still come. I kiss him deeper, pouring everything I can’t say into the contact.I’m here. I want this. You’re safe with me.
He breaks the kiss with a shaky breath and reaches for the hem of his shirt.
His fingers hesitate at the fabric. Then he pulls the shirt over his head and lets it fall.
And there he is.
The scars stretch across his ribs and spiral around his back, raised lines that speak of heat and metal and pain I can’t imagine. They map his torso like a roadmap of survival, twisting over muscle that’s too stubborn to break.
He doesn’t move, just watches me take him in, like he’s waiting for the moment I decide it’s too much.
