Page 118 of Reluctantly Rogue

I know it before I even actually form the entire question in my mind.

If she wants me, she can have me.

It’s complicated as fuck. It will mess all kinds of things up. People will be pissed. She and I could lose everything we’ve got in Cara.

But if Linnea Olsen chooses me, over everything else, over everything she’s got and can have…fuck yes, she can have me.

Yes, Duchess. You have a choice. Whatever you want.

I watch her look down at her phone, then pick it up even as Christian is speaking, and type.

Her message comes in a moment later and my mouth goes dry.

Prove it.

I study those two words for nearly thirty seconds. Then I tip back the rest of my drink, set my glass down, and excuse myself to Scott and the other guy. I walk toward the table where Linnea is sitting with Christian.

She looks up at me with a smile. I slide into the booth on her opposite side from Waite.

I meet Christian’s gaze. He gives me a frown. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all,” I tell him.

“Linnea and I were just in the middle of something.”

“Go right ahead,” I tell him. Under the table, I reach over and set my hand on her thigh.

“You were saying something about a gala next month,” Linnea says to Christian. “I wanted Jonah to hear the details.”

“Yes, I was hoping you would be able to come back and be my plus one,” Christian says. “But I don’t think your bodyguard needs to be in on the discussion just now. We can always involve him regarding any security measures later.”

Linnea looks at me, then back to him with a laugh. “Oh, you think Jonah is my bodyguard? Somebody behind the scenes?”

“Isn’t he?”

Linnea shakes her head. “No. Jonah is my best friend. My confidant. He’s the one who helps me make all of my big decisions. He definitely needs to be in on this.”

She emphasizes the wordthis. I squeeze her thigh.

Hearing her describe me to Christian as her best friend unknots some of the tension in my gut. She’s not declaring that I am her boyfriend, or her lover—hell, none of that is true—but telling Christian that I am more than a bodyguard, more than a guy on the periphery, definitely means something.

And it is definitely true.

If someone hadaskedme, I wouldn’t have described myself the way she did, but hearing it, the truth hits me. No one knows her the way I do. No one cares about her the way I do. Her family, even her sister, doesn’t know all the sides, all the layers, to this woman. It’s only me. And I suspect she knows things about me that I’m not even aware of. Things that even Torin has missed.

My heart is now pounding harder, and I have to fight the urge to haul her out of this booth, throw her over my shoulder, and march out of here.

And straight to a bed.

To finally fully claim her. To make her fully mine.

Though, in many ways, she’s been mine since she walked in on me naked ironing.

My hand moves up on her thigh. I feel her hand drop to cover mine and I expect her to push my hand away, or at least down an inch or two.

She doesn’t. She drags it an inch higher.

I’m glad for the tablecloths now, I suppose. Though I’m becoming less and less concerned with Waite’s thoughts on my relationship with Linnea.

---