I’m watched and observed all the time. By strangers. By cameramen. Bypeople. And never,neverhave I come undone. Until now, until his eyes feel like hands, and I want them all over me.
“Brake,” he says deeply.
I slow the car at the last second. Hitting bumper-to-bumper traffic. Now the car is unbearably still. I feel like my Audi has shrunk into a compact.
Too small.
The middle console barely divides his body from mine. And my body from his. Do I even want a divide anymore?No.Andyes.He’s my bodyguard—that’s not changing.
It’s not.
But I can’t eventhinkabout anyone else. He hasn’t just pitched a tent in my brain and dick. He’s built a fucking stone castle that no wolf can ever blow down.
What am I supposed to say to him?My cock only wants you. My brain only wants you. I didn’t pick up that girl because I only wantyou.
Or:if I fucked someone else tonight, it would’ve made me sick.
None of that extinguishes this one cold fact: it’s ethically wrong to be with my bodyguard.
“Maximoff,” Farrow says, my name slicing the dense air like dropping a guillotine.
I steal a quick glance at him.
He rubs his bottom, pierced lip with his thumb, and his brows rise. “Ready to talk about this?”
“This,” I say, imagining my hands ripping his shirt off his head. Muscle against muscle, lips against lips—I blink. “Thistraffic is fucking terrible.”
“Thisas inyouandme.” He pauses. “Us.”
Headlights glare in my rearview. My stringent posture contracts my shoulders, my deltoids, my whole body. And I switch lanes fast. Windows of a nearby SUV roll down, a Canon pointing at my car.
Great.
I drive thirty-over just to desert the SUV. Farrow keeps an eye on neighboring vehicles while he says, “I know talking about this isn’t easy. In any other situation, I’d just kiss you.”
Fuck.I lick my lips again. Muscles flexing.
Ihardenbeneath my jeans and boxer-briefs. “You sure I wouldn’t be the one to kiss you?” I counter.
I can feel his lips lifting. For how close we are, the space between us couldn’t feel farther away. Whoever makes the first move will have to cross miles, scale mountains, ferry oceans to reach the other side.
I glance at him.
And his amused smile stretches wider. “In your dreams, maybe you’d kiss me first.” Talk of my dreams reminds me of how long I’ve crushed on him.
Since I wassixteen.
I start to padlock my emotion with a thousand iron keys.
His smile slowly falls. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I say instinctively, and then, “I don’t know.”Beware: he’s your bodyguard!scrolls across my vision like a tickertape warning. For Christ’s sake, we can’t evenkisswithout having a conversation beforehand. It’s all so elementary.
Kissing.
I want to do more. Iwantmore. In a way that I’ve never even had before, and is that what’s being offered? Is it even possible?
“What are you thinking?” he asks. “Because I don’t know where you stand. You have so many boundaries, you’re practically a walking-talkingDon’t Entersign.”
