‘No. It was a gift from my sister when I enrolled.’
Her fingers stroke the misshapen metal. ‘No offence, but it looks like it’s seen better days.’
‘It was bent by a bullet. It saved my life.’
‘What?’ Victoria props herself up onto her elbow.
‘A few months into my second tour, we were drawn into a frenzied fire fight. One of the corporals was badly injured. I scooped him up and carried him seven kilometres back to camp, still under heavy fire. I took a bullet, but I was saved by my St. Christopher. Call it luck or fate, but I wouldn’t be here today without it.’
‘Wow. My hero.’ She swoons exaggeratedly. ‘So, is this like a lucky charm now?’
A shiver of unease ripples over me. ‘No, it’s actually supposed to be a reminder not to break the rules.’
She arches a questioning eyebrow. ‘How’s that going for you?’
‘Not as well as I’d planned, clearly.’ A heaviness weighs on my chest and I’m not talking about Victoria’s lithe body. Still, I can’t bring myself to regret what happened between us. That woman is so far under my skin, there’s no way it could ever have ended any other way.
She snuggles further back into me, wriggling that perfect naked ass over my morning glory.
‘Careful, you’re about to start something you might not be able to finish.’ My lips brush against her ear. In response, she reaches round, grabs my cock and squeezes it.
‘Oh Archie, I told you before, I always finish everything I start. You don’t ever need to worry about that.’ She flips round, pushing me onto my back. Long, toned thighs slip either side of my hips as she straddles herself on my cock.
She glides over the length of me, taking every inch like a goddess. ‘You’re soaking.’
‘Tends to happen when you’re close by.’ Thick lashes dance over her cheekbones.
This time it’s slower. Less frantic. Languid. Loving. Familiar. And still so fucking addictive.
My fingers can’t stay away from those pert, round breasts. I can’t get enough of her. I’ll never be able to get enough of her. Hooded eyes gaze down at me, glassy with pleasure. She ups her pace, grinding me, working me until her walls clench and we shudder together. She flops onto my chest, clammy and satiated, for now at least.
My lips press against her forehead. ‘What a way to start the day.’
‘Thank God I’m not on shift.’ She snuggles in tighter.
I wrap my arms around her and exhale a heavy sigh. It’s one of satisfaction.
Sleep has been an issue since my final tour, but with Victoria wrapped in my arms, her heart beating against mine, it’s no longer a problem.
* * *
Two weeks passand we create a new routine, one that seems to satisfy both of our needs. Sex, sleep, hospital shifts, classroom lectures, dinner, more sex, more sleep and the occasional glass of wine.
The long days she’s on shift, I cook, draw her a bath and wash every inch of her silky skin. It’s the least I can do when she takes care of people all day, but that’s not why I do it. I do it because I’ve got an increasing suspicion I’ve finally found my true purpose in this life. What I was born to do. Worship Victoria Sexton.
I’m living out my own personal fantasy and every time the shame creeps in, I remind myself of Victoria’s motto. Tomorrow is promised to none of us.
Do I feel guilty for being paid to be here?
Yes, of course, even though I haven’t touched a penny of the salary Ryan wired to my account. I’ve never slept with a ward before. It’s the most unprofessional thing a bodyguard can do.
But even with our illicit relationship, if that’s what it even is (we’ve yet to put a label on it), Victoria is in less danger than she would be if she was traipsing around every bar and nightclub in Edinburgh looking for someone to quench her “needs.”
She’s never out of my sight.
Her house is more secure than it was before I arrived.
She’s excelling at her assignments and thriving in her practical work at the hospital.
