Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Oh God, I’ve imagined this for so long. I’ve silently begged to experience it. And now it’s happening, and it’s happening, mad and frenzied, backed by a pile of frustration and desperation.
“Fuck!” Jake curses and drops me, shooting back, leaving me heaving uncontrollably before him, my lips swollen and raw. He rakes a hand through his hair, pulls a little, turns, and starts stalking around the room. “We can’t do this,” he says harshly. His resolution pierces my heart like a dagger. “It’s wrong. I’m your bodyguard.” He turns to face me, revealing more determination in the form of a cut, even expression. “Your father will make sure that I never work again.” He mumbles the words, clenching his eyes shut. “And I need a purpose, Camille. I need to work.”
I feel wretched tears stab at the backs of my eyes, and not for the first time in my life, I damn my father to hell. Jake needs a purpose. He needs to keep his head in the game so it doesn’t wander to other places. Like his past. Like war. Like that woman.
It kills me, but I say what needs to be said. Not just because Jake needs me to say it, but because I know that he is right. My dad would destroy him if he found out Jake overstepped his professional mark. He’s my bodyguard.
“I understand.” My heart constricts in my chest as I back away a few paces, before turning to make a hasty escape, desperate to get away from him. I make it to the door on my unsteady legs and grab the handle, pulling it open, but that’s as far as I get.
A palm comes over my shoulder and lands on the wood with a slap, pushing it closed again. My squeezing heart beats up to my throat, and I swallow, staring at his hand before me, feeling his torso close to my back.
“I don’t want you to understand,” he breathes in my ear. I close my eyes when his hands rest on my shoulders and slowly turn me around on my shaking legs. “Open your eyes,” he orders. I do.
My lids peel open, showing him the chaos in my head, the water pooling in my eyes as I try to gather my tattered mind. “I know this is wrong,” I murmur, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I know I shouldn’t be attracted to you like this.”
He nods mildly, agreeing. “I get it. Trust me; I fucking get it,” he murmurs. “But I can’t think of anything right now but you.”
He searches my eyes before dropping his gaze down my body, like now he can dedicate as much time as he likes to absorb me in my entirety. And he does. There’s not a piece of me that he doesn’t take in, not a hair on my head that he doesn’t feel or stroke.
Tenderly, more tenderly than I ever imagined he was capable of, he brushes a wayward lock from my forehead, watching as he pushes it back. I’m so still, he could probably shoot an apple off my head. His hands feel so good wherever they roam, and his face, etched in concentration, looks awestruck.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers softly, snaking his forearm around my waist and pulling me close.
My hands come up between our torsos on a little gasp, resting on his shoulders, and he dips and brings his forehead down to mine, having to bend his knees a little to do it. His spare hand wraps around my neck gently and he closes his eyes. I feel so small in his arms. So safe. Yet all of the ease and perfection isn’t slowing my thumping heart. I can hear the whoosh of my pulse in my ears, my veins simmering with a want so intoxicating it’s making me wobbly.
But I’m going nowhere, his hold keeping me steady. His tactic seems to have changed. The wild, chaotic meeting of our mouths a moment ago is almost forgotten as he breathes steady and deeply while I watch him, so close I could kiss him. But I refrain—not that I’m not desperate to feel his lips on mine again, but because his sheer rugged beauty is so gratifying, and I’m fascinated by his silence and sudden mellow disposition. I’ve never seen him so peaceful. Completely passive. Like he’s surrendered to an inner need.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes slowly revealing themselves to me. The light I see in them is dazzling. It’s hopeful. It’s everything I feel myself.
I swallow on a little nod and run my hands down the sleeves of his jacket to his elbows, thinking how wonderful his skin will feel beneath. He pulls his head away from mine, and the sea of stubble blanketing his face holds my attention around his mouth.