Page 2 of The Bodyguard’s Innocent Obsession (His Obsession #3)

Arabella

“You’re mine. And I won’t let anyone touch you, princess. I promise you that.”

My whole body stills. He says it so low, so serious, like it’s a vow. And for a second, I forget how to breathe.

He has to mean it professionally. Like… a bodyguard thing. That’s all. Right?

Except my heart is pounding like it wants to beat right out of my chest, and I’m suddenly burning up. My hands feel tingly. My skin’s prickling with goosebumps.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me. He’s so close and so big and so masculine, and it’s doing something strange to my insides.

He’s tall. Broad. Muscles stretching under that dark shirt like they were poured in place. His arms are huge, the kind that look like they could break down a door or pin someone to a wall without even trying.

And next to him, I feel… tiny. Curvy and soft and completely helpless in a way that makes my stomach flutter and clench at the same time.

He smells like soap and leather, maybe. And his face.

.. God. Square jaw, stubble dusting his cheeks, dark brows drawn low over eyes that look almost black in the kitchen light.

He’s got this little scar on his chin that only makes him hotter, like he’s been through things.

Like he’s fought against bad guys and won.

And now he’s here. Looking at me like I’m something he wants.

Something he needs.

His gaze drops to my mouth, slow and deliberate, and I swear he starts to lean in.

My breath catches. My lips part without permission. Every inch of me goes still, waiting.

I’ve never been kissed before.

Never even thought that my first kiss might be with someone I just met. Especially not someone like him. Someone older, serious, dangerous.

But I want it.

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.”

My entire breath catches.

His voice drops an octave, low and gravelly. Dangerous. “If some punk had tried to put his hands on you, I might’ve had to hunt him down and tear his fucking arms off.”

The heat in his gaze is unbearable. Branding. He looks at me like I already belong to him. Like I always have.

My cheeks go up in flames. My thighs press together under my skirt, instinctively, as something unfamiliar and wild coils low in my belly.

I should be shocked by the way he’s acting. Or offended. Or something.

But all I can feel is this dizzy, breathless flutter that fills every inch of me.

A door creaks open down the hall, and I jolt like something hit me with cold water.

Dad walks back in, phone still pressed to his ear. “I’ll be on the next flight out,” he says, then covers the receiver. “I’ve got to fly to D.C. tonight. Emergency committee vote tomorrow. They want me in person.”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound panicked. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow night, if not earlier,” he tells me. “Lachlan will stay here with you.”

I nod, heart pounding for a totally new reason now.

The second Dad walks away, I sneak a glance at Lachlan. He’s still looking at me with that same dark, burning intensity.

I’m going to be alone in the house with him tonight. And I’m not sure I trust myself not to do anything that would result in my father feeling like he has to fire my new bodyguard.

I swallow hard, looking away.

This is not good.

This is really, really not good.