Page 10 of Daddy's Bodyguard

But that’s not the worst part of this reality. It’s dealing with the unexpected attraction that’s making me panic inside. I don’t want to feel anything for this man.

“Sofia!” His hand tightens around me again, pulling me against him. I stifle the moan that threatens to leave my mouth as our bodies connect. “Answer me.”

“I won’t run,” I whisper. “As long as you let me work. Let me live.”

“No shortage on that. Just don’t run,” he says evenly. “That’s all.”

“Deal,” I murmur, my lips nearly on his.

He still holds me there, watching me carefully while my heart pounds in my chest. I don’t like this sizzle between us, the way his arm feels like it belongs around me, how great our bodies feel together like this. I close my eyes a moment, determined to fight my lust.

I hear the quiver in my voice when I mumble, “I need something to do.”

“Look through your bags. Unpack.” Another order, sharp, not expecting any compromise.

I feel a gentle pang in my stomach when he lets me go, but I dismiss it right away. No way do I want to remain on his lap, being pressed against his hard chest. What I need is some distance between us. I ease off his lap, and his hand immediately catches my eyes, the blood coming through whatever he wrapped around it. I reach for it, and he jerks it away from me. “You should … you should fix that.”

“He barely clipped me.”

“He shot you?” That’s enough. I clutch his upper arm, ignoring how deliciously tight his biceps feel. “Get up. I’m taking care of this right away.”

Surprisingly he doesn’t argue, and I’m glad because there’s no way I could get him to the bathroom on my own. He allows me to drag him to the bathroom, and he doesn’t say a word when I shove him onto the toilet, then look through the drawers. “There has to be a first aid kit or something.”

“I’m fine.”

I ignore his response and keep searching until I find one behind the bathroom mirror. He gives me a dark glare when I jerk off his bandage. The wound is on the side of his hand, where his thumb meets his palm. It’s a jagged tear right on the edge, bloody and angry but not a hole, like I expected. I swallow the vomit in my throat and clean the wound with alcohol. He doesn’t flinch at all.

I try to still my shaky fingers as I wrap his hand carefully. Jasper’s eyes on me raise goosebumps, but I refuse to look away from the bandage. I pat the gauze once I tie it, and then I wash my hands twice.

“We need to work on your bedside manner a bit, princess. You could have told me it’s going to be okay, that it won’t hurt, plenty of things to make that easier.”

“I thought it didn’t hurt.”

“I said it was just a flesh wound, not that it didn’t hurt.” He snorts. “Thanks for the concern, though.”

He stands behind me in the mirror, and I realize I only come up to his chest. It’s not too bad, considering how short I always am without my heels, but it doesn’t make it any easier to stand up to someone when you’re almost half their size.

A sudden knock on the front door makes me tighten my grip around the towel I’m using to dry my hands. There’s a déjà vu-like feeling that reminds me of earlier tonight and puts me on edge, but I’m determined not to show it.

Jasper immediately puts me behind him. “Stay here.”

“It’s just the pizza.”

“Yeah, because the pizza man issoinnocent.” He chuckles, then points at the floor in front of me. “Stay.”

I roll my eyes but do as he asks. I hear another man’s voice respond to his, then the front door softly closes. I peek my head out, then leave the bedroom. Jasper has the pizza box and nothing else. He looks at me and shakes his head. “Patience. We’ll have to work on that too.”

“This isn’t about training me,” I huff.

“Why, would you rather do the training?” He teases. “I’m pretty good at followingfuninstructions.”

I shake my head at him but join him for pizza before I try to kick him off the couch so I can get some sleep. Jasper shakes his head and points to the bedroom. “Go. I was being a dick.”

“No. You take the bed. I can’t get in the way of you being a feminist,” I insist.

“And give you a clear line to the door? No. Prove I can trust you … tonight. Then we’ll talk about you taking the couch. If not, we can always share a room.” He winks at me. “It would be easier on me.”

“Don’t push your luck.” I glower.

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