"When will that be?" Rona tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me.
"When I say so." I manage to keep my tone sandpaper-dry despite the growing tightness in my guts. And in my pants. But that’s something I don’t even want to think about.
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but I'm already moving toward the door. Because I won’t be able to hide my arousal much longer if she keeps being a brat.
"I need you to stay put while I'm gone. Open the door to no one but me."
She rolls her eyes and gives me a mock salute that somehow manages to be both sassy and incredibly sexy.
"Sir, yes, sir."
I narrow my eyes at her but don't reply. The last thing I need is to encourage whatever game she thinks she's playing. A dangerous, dangerous game that might end with her bent over my knees and her round bottom red from a well-deserved spanking.
Shit. I shouldn’t think about her ass. I shouldn’t think about spanking her, either.
Okay. Time to leave.
The service hallway feels like a relief after the tension of that room. Fluorescent lights hum overhead as I jog toward the garage, my footsteps echoing off concrete walls. I need to grab supplies from the SUV, but more than that, I need a minute to get my head straight.
Because Rona Quinn is going to be a problem.
Not the kind of problem I'm trained to handle. External threats, hostile actors, security breaches, those I can manage. But the problem of being alone with a woman I've been carefullynotthinking about for the past year? That's uncharted territory. That’s dangerous waters full of dark, forbidden things, just lurking under the surface.
I've noticed her, of course. Hard not to when she lights up every room she enters with that warm laugh and those expressive eyes. I’ve noticed everything about her. I’ve noticed the way she looks at the ground, like she has no idea how truly attractive she is. I’ve noticed the way she gets this little crease between her eyebrows when she's concentrating on something important.
I've noticed all of it, and I've spent considerable energy making sure no one else notices me noticing.
She's off-limits. She’s the senator's daughter. She’s also young, not even out of college. To top it all, she’s from a completely different world than mine. She’s soft and spoiled and utterly out of my league. I'm her mother's employee, nothing more. The fact that my pulse kicks up whenever she's in the room is irrelevant.
But now? Now I'm going to be her sole protection detail, possibly for weeks. In close quarters. Just the two of us.
Professional. I'm a professional. I can handle this.
I reach the SUV and grab a clean hoodie from my emergency kit: navy blue, without any visible marks or details. It’s in my size, which means it'll swallow her whole. Which is exactly thepoint. I need to make Rona Quinn disappear until her mother resolves whatever has made her so upset.
When I return to the suite, Rona is pacing by the windows like a caged animal. Her hair is now loose, silky golden curls cascading down almost to her elbows. I flex my fingers, mesmerized by them for just a little too long. When I tear my gaze from her hair, I see she's worrying her bottom lip with those small white teeth in a way that makes me wonder if they’re as soft as they look. If they would look as good as I think wrapped around my cock.
Stop. It.
I hold out the hoodie toward her, setting my gaze resolutely on the window.
"Put this on."
She makes a face like I've handed her a dead fish. "Seriously?"
"It'll hide you if we encounter anyone outside this room."
She takes it with obvious reluctance, sliding it over her head. The sleeves completely swallow her hands, and the hem falls just below her knees. She looks ridiculous and perfect, surrounded by my scent, and I have to clench my jaw against the surge of territorial satisfaction that thought brings.
Dangerous thinking. I’m usually much more in control of my instincts.
"Happy?" she asks, tugging at the oversized fabric.
"It'll do."
I lead her through the back corridors, keeping her on my left next to the wall and using my body to hide her from view as much as possible. The route I've chosen avoids the main areas entirely. I’ve mapped this hotel weeks before the event, so I know the service hallways, freight elevators, and maintenance passages that most people don't even know exist.
"Where exactly are we going?" she asks as we navigate another stark corridor.
