Page 2 of The Bodyguard's Innocent Obsession
We turn a corner, and the vibe shifts immediately. The kitchen is wide and sunlit, warm wood and soft pastels. It’s like stepping into a different house altogether. It’s something homier, almost dreamy.
And there she is.
Barefoot at the island. Curves hugged in a pale pink dress that hits mid-thigh. Piping delicate roses onto cupcakes, swaying slightly to the soft music playing from a speaker beside her. There’s a dusting of flour on the tip of her nose, a smudge of frosting on her wrist, and her hair is pulled into a messy braid that’s unraveling around her face.
She hasn’t seen us yet. But for me, time stops.
I’ve been shot before. Broken bones. Survived an explosion in Kandahar that killed four of my unit.
None of that hit me as hard as this.
She’s beautiful. Soft. A fucking dream. And something deep and primal in me, something savage, snaps awake.
She’s mine.
Not professionally. Not logically. It’s on a level so instinctual, so visceral, it’s like my blood rewrites itself the second I see her.
She shifts slightly, licking a bit of pink frosting from the tip of her finger with an absent hum.
My cock goes rock fucking hard.
Jesus Christ.
Her mouth, so plush and innocent, puckers around her fingertip, and my brain is instantly flooded with images I should not be thinking with her father standing three feet away. What else could she taste with that tongue? What would she sound like with her lips stretched around...
“Arabella,” Prescott says, his voice fond as he pulls me from the filthy spiral of my thoughts.
She jumps, blinking up at us like she’s been yanked out of her own little world. Her blue eyes are huge as they land on me, and she goes bright pink.
“Oh!” she gasps, scrambling to pause the music. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Her voice is soft. Slightly breathless. Sweet enough to rot my teeth.
“Arabella, this is Lachlan Decker,” her father says. “He’ll be looking after you for the time being.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but his phone rings. Loud. Jarring. He sighs, already pulling it from his pocket.
“Excuse me,” he mutters. “I have to take this.”
He steps out without waiting for a reply, the door swinging shut behind him. The silence that follows is thick.
She twists her fingers together, eyes flickering down to the cupcakes, then up at me. She laughs nervously.
“So… you’re the guy that’s gonna be following me around for the foreseeable future, huh?”
She doesn’t even know what that does to me.
Her voice, all breathy and unsure. Her flushed cheeks. That nervous smile. Like she doesn’t know she’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I take a step forward. Then another. Drawn in, helpless to stop.
She smells like sugar and vanilla and something else. Something that already has its claws in me.
But it’s more than that. It’s her.
She’s fucking perfect.
That pale pink dress hugs every sinful inch of her body like it was custom made just to torment me. Soft fabric stretched tight across full, heavy tits that bounce ever so slightly with each nervous breath. A waist that flares out into wide hips and thick, plush thighs I could bite down on and die happy. The hem barely skims the tops of her legs, showing off smooth, creamy skin I already want to mark up with my teeth. Her curves aren’t just pretty. They’re devastating. A body made to be worshipped. Bred. Owned.
