Page 25 of The Bodyguard's Innocent Obsession

“You’re impossible,” I whisper, smiling as his lips graze my temple.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers back. “I’m never letting you forget it.”

My heart clenches, in the way it always does when I let myself really feel it. Him. Us. This life we’ve built.

A year ago, I’d been in danger, and he’d followed me into it without hesitation to keep me safe. But that’s all behind us now. Lucien is behind bars, rotting in a cell where he belongs. His lawyers tried every trick in the book, but the evidence against him was overwhelming.

He lost.

And we won.

With Lucien out of the way and the full extent of his crimes exposed, my father’s housing bill passed through the Senate with overwhelming support. The media storm that followed only rallied more people behind the cause, and now, almost a year later, protections are finally in place to keep corporate giants from exploiting vulnerable communities. Affordable housing initiatives are being rolled out across the state. My dad still works long hours, but there’s pride in his eyes now, like he knows he really made a difference.

I lean my head back against Lachlan’s chest and let myself breathe it in: this moment, this quiet, this love.

He kisses the top of my head and lowers a hand to rest over mine on my belly. One of the babies kicks right on cue, and he lets out a low, affectionate laugh.

“Still doing gymnastics in there, huh?” he says.

“Like clockwork.”

He crouches down in front of me, resting his big hands on my hips and pressing a kiss to the curve of my bump. “Alright, little ones. Settle down in there, yeah? Your mom’s been on her feet all morning, and she needs a break. Take it easy on her, okay?”

I blink fast, because pregnancy hormones are cruel, and this man makes me feel too much.

“I hope they get your calm,” I whisper. “Your strength.”

Lachlan looks up at me, a smile playing on his lips. “And I hope they get your fire.”

I reach down and touch his cheek. “You know something?”

He stands, cupping my face gently in both hands. “What?”

“This is it. This is my dream.”

His eyes soften. “It’s mine too.”

He kisses me then; slow, deep, warm. Full of promises we’ve already started keeping.

Behind us, the kitchen timer dings. I glance over my shoulder, and then back at him with a knowing smirk. “You want to help me take the croissants out of the oven?”

He grins like he’s just been handed heaven on a silver tray. “Only if I get to sample one.”

“I knew there was a catch.”

“There’s always a catch,” he says, leaning in one last time. “You caught me.”

And he catches me right back.

Every time.

***