Page 4 of The Bodyguard's Innocent Obsession
I want to know what that stubble would feel like against my skin. Want to feel his big hands on me, holding me in place while his mouth claims mine. I want it so badly it makes my knees feel wobbly, like I might melt right into the floor if he doesn’t touch me soon.
It’s crazy. I know it’s crazy.
He’s a total stranger. And my father just hired him to protect me.
But none of that matters. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Like I’m the only thing in the world he sees.
I just want one taste. One moment.
But then... DING.
The oven timer goes off, sharp and loud, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Oh! Cupcakes!”
I spin around way too fast, fumbling for an oven mitt, trying to act normal even though I can barely walk straight. I yank open the oven door and pull out the tray, but my hands are shaking so badly I almost drop it. I manage to set it on the stovetop without totally embarrassing myself, though my face is so hot its temperature probably matches the cupcakes I’ve just pulled out of the oven.
Behind me, I hear him move. The scrape of a stool being pulled back. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s sitting now, just across the island from me. Still watching.
I try to ignore it. Try to breathe like a normal person. I start lining the cupcakes up on the cooling rack, focusing really hard on spacing them evenly.
“So,” he says finally, voice deep but casual, “do you always bake this much?”
I risk a quick glance up. His elbows are resting on the counter. His arms are huge. His shoulders look even broader sitting down, somehow. Everything about him is… big.
“Um. Yeah,” I say, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s kind of my thing, I guess. I like it. It’s relaxing.”
He nods slowly. “You’re good at it.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, grabbing the piping bag I’d left on the counter before he and Dad walked in. My hands are still shaking, but I try to pipe another little buttercream rose onto a cold cupcake, anyway. It comes out all lopsided.
“Do you sell them?” he asks.
I shrug. “No, I just bake for family events. Birthdays. Holidays. Sometimes even for my dad’s work stuff. He likes to have something homemade when he hosts people, and he says my cakes always impress his guests.”
I glance up and catch the way he’s watching me, his lips curling up into a smile that makes my heart race. It makes me feel a little shy. But a little proud, too.
“My mom says I’ve got too much time on my hands,” I add, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But it makes people happy. So I keep doing it.”
I pipe another rose. Still not perfect, but a little better. I can feel his eyes on me. They don’t feel like the kind of look you give someone when you’re just being polite. They feel… heavier. Like they’re dragging across my skin. Like he’s trying to memorize every curve of my body.
My breath stutters.
“You got a boyfriend?” he asks suddenly.
I blink. “What?”
He says it again, slower. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
My face burns. I laugh, but it comes out nervous and weird. “No. I’ve never even, um… never been on a date.”
His eyebrows rise a little. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I glance away, fussing with the frosting on my wrist, trying to act like it’s no big deal. “My parents are strict. Especially my dad. He thinks boys are just distractions. And I’ve always been kind of a homebody, anyway.”
Lachlan makes a low sound in his throat. It’s not quite a growl. But it’s not not a growl, either.
“Good.” The word rumbles out of him like thunder. Final. Certain. “I’m glad no one’s touched you.”
