Page 24 of Twisted Devotion

“We’re bonding,” Bethany explains. “At your expense, of course.”

He rolls his eyes. “Everything isat my expense, sweetness.”

I groan, secretly enjoying being able to tease Jackson with someone else. “Don’t get him started. I can’t listen to him talk about who signs our paychecks again.”

Bethany laughs. “Fair enough. I’ll let you get home. See you tomorrow, guys.”

Jackson walks ahead of me to open the door, and I smile at Bethany, waving at her on my way outside.

Once we’re in the car, I sit and stare out the windshield, processing the day. Everyone I met was great and very welcoming. Seeing Jackson with other people—his friends, at that—was nice. He walked around that place completely in his element. It was like watching Nikolai and Skylar in battle.

Jackson shoots me a curious look, and I shake my head from the passenger seat and say, “That was . . . different.”

“Which part? My employees harassing me, or the experience of meeting people who actually don’t mind spending time with me?”

“Well, you arepayingthem to spend time with you. Technically,” I remind him.

He narrows those gorgeous golden eyes at me. “You’re mean.”

“I’m also the one who’s going to keep you alive.”

He opens his mouth like he might object, but then thinks better of it and closes it, smirking. He faces forward and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot without a word.

The next day follows the same routine. Jackson and I leave the house together in the morning, spend the entire day together at the facility, and go home together at the end of the day. That’s a lot of togetherness. Borderline too much.

Though, after my third day at the facility, I’ve adjusted to being there, have gotten to know the team a bit better, and am confident I’m familiar enough with the surroundings to protect Jackson.

He, on the other hand, hasn’t gotten a total grip on the whole bodyguard and charge relationship. He doesn’t comprehend why I need to walk ahead of him or why I need to do a quick sweep of any room before we go in. That, or he’s been ignoring my instructions for days just to get under my skin. My money’s on the latter, and damn him, it’s working. As much as my job revolves around considering him first at all times, I can’t stop thinking about him even when I don’t have to.

I don’t want to look at him and see anything more than a job, but the way I’ve caught him glancing at me continues to heat my skin and make my pulse tick faster. I may be a professional and working a job, but I still have eyes. And hormones. Under different circumstances, Jackson’s attention would be . . . nice. Addictive, even.

Which is exactly why I can’t allow it to get to me.

Sitting down for meals with Jackson has quickly started to feel normal over the course of the week I’ve been here. As normal as it can be, considering my reason for being here is because people want Jackson dead

The way he stares at me from across the dining room table, it’s as if he’s waiting for me to take back what I said the other day and agree to sleep with him.

“Can I help you?” I toss at him, shoving a piece of roasted chicken into my mouth.

The corners of his mouth curl upward. “I’m certain of it.”

“Jackson,” I warn, chewing and swallowing my food.

“Kelsey,” he levels mockingly. “We’re both adults.”

I glare at the green beans on my plate because I can’t look at Jackson right now. “I have a job to do.”

“I’mthe job,” he points out.

I can’t help but grin at that. “Was that seriously a poor excuse for a pick-up line?”

He laughs deeply. “No. I’m far more eloquent than that.”

I finally lift my eyes to look at him. “Really?” My voice is doubtful.

Jackson is charming, I’ll give him that, but from what I’ve gathered of his personality, lousy pick-up lines don’t seem all that unlikely. Not that he really needs them. He’s got the type of face that attracts women effortlessly. Even I’ve been caught up in it a few times, and I’m desperately trying to figure out how to build up immunity to it. As much as I’d love to deny it, when he looks at me with hooded eyes and that wicked smirk of his, it tests my resolve. That smirk holds promise of many things—likely complicated, but definitely enjoyable.

“I’m just saying. The other night? Nothing compared to what it could have been had we been in the same bed.”

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