Page 20 of The Wounded Guard and the Royal Stylist

“Brad,” she whispered, moistening her lips and tilting her face up to his.

His heart thumped out of control.

“Yes, Ari?”

Her gaze dipped to his lips then her teal-blue eyes focused on his again. He couldn’t get his heart to calm down.

“Do you ever think about the kiss we shared?” she whispered.

“Only every other minute,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened, and then her lips curved into a smile. She ran her hands up to his shoulders and used them as leverage to lift herself to within a few centimeters of his mouth. All he had to do was lower his head. All of his long-repressed dreams would come true. The memories of those kisses and his dreams of her had gotten him through uncomfortable nights on the jungle floor, vicious battles, and his longing for home and for her.

He could kiss her. A simple kiss. He’d stay in control. He’d learned some lessons the past eight years.

But at what cost to Arianna?

She wanted him to kiss her. For some unfathomable reason, his Angel Ari had forgiven him for leaving her and wanted to be in his arms.

“Please kiss me,” she whispered in a husky, irresistible voice.

Before he could fight with himself any longer, he bowed his head to hers.

Their lips brushed, and joy and light filled him.

A hard rap came at the door.

Mason.

Brad straightened, stepped back, and finally regained his senses.

He’d learned some lessons? Like rubbish he had.

She was a family friend? What a bald-faced lie.

“Please forgive me, Ari,” he murmured. “It won’t happen again.”

Her blue eyes flashed. He was going to get slugged. He would welcome any pain she wanted to inflict on him, but Mason was knocking again.

Pivoting, he hurried to the door.

Arianna gasped behind him. It was one thing to touch his scars, but seeing them was probably even more shocking.

“Yes?” he called.

“It’s your favorite too handsome and hilarious lieutenant,” Mason called back.

He opened the door slightly. It was indeed Mason.

“Now I smell as despicable as you,” Mason said, a huge grin on his face.

“It’s a good club to be in,” Brad managed, his voice too breathy. His heart was still racing out of control from the interaction with Arianna—her hands on his skin, her scent, her firm body in his arms, and the barest touch of her lips.

“Thank you, Ollie,” Mason said. “We’ll bother you again soon.”

Ollie saluted, gave a half smile, and marched down the hall.

Brad stepped back and Mason walked into the room, dead-bolting the door behind him.

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