Page 13 of About Last Night

I looked up into his calm eyes. “I’m not hurt.” He looked down at my hands, assessing the liquid, and then back at me. “This looks like red paint. I promise I’m fine.”

The combo of the adrenaline from the show, the scare of the attack, and the terror that he could’ve been hurt made tears burn in my eyes.

His jaw clenched and his hands tightened on mine as we heard the other members of the security team handle the threat.

I’d told myself this was only a crush, but as he held my gaze, I knew my feelings had already become so much more than that.

I knew without a doubt that there was no way I could ever look at Wyatt as just my bodyguard. It was too late. I already cared about him more than was professional, more than I cared about most people in my life.

It was stupid for a million reasons, and completely one-sided, but I couldn’t ignore the way this man made me feel anymore.

I just wished I wasn’t the only one falling.

DON’T GET JEALOUS OF YOUR COWORKER

Wyatt

My self-control was failing, and as I held her tight to my body, everything fading away around us as I drowned in her green eyes, I wondered if maybe it would be worth it.

Not once had I ever considered crossing that line, but in this moment I was so close to saying “fuck it” and leaning forward to kiss her.

The terror—for me—in her eyes when she thought I’d been hurt had nearly sunk me to my knees. The way she fussed over me before I stilled her hands. The way she looked at me now like she’d be devastated if anything happened to me.

Maybe I’d already crossed the line because even the way I held her against me wasn’t remotely close to being considered professional.

Then a flash went off in my periphery and I remembered where we were. Who she was. Who I was to her. And my professionalism kicked into overdrive.

I moved with her in my arms the few feet to the SUV and placed her inside before I closed her door. Before walking all the way around to the passenger side, I stopped at the back to take off my jacket that I’d worn to conceal my gun and toss it in the trunk space since it was covered in red pain.

The driver was another guy who worked for Raf, and he’d already been briefed with our itinerary, something I was grateful for as my mind reeled with how I’d just behaved. That split second could’ve been enough for someone to hurt her if the threat had been real. What the fuck was I doing?

Maybe I should request a transfer to a different job. Even as the thought entered my mind, I immediately dismissed it. There was no way I could sit back and let someone else guard her. I was too invested, which I realized was a big reason why I should absolutely tell Raf to replace me. But I wasn’t going to.

Brynn was mine to protect.

I glanced back and our gazes caught for a second before she turned her head to look out the window, her reddish-brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Every time we passed a streetlight, it would illuminate the pensive look on her face as she stared absently out the window at the passing scenery.

Fuck, she was pretty. So pretty it almost hurt to look at her.

I faced forward, refusing to let my thoughts spiral more out of control. I was grateful we were in New York tonight because Raf had an extension team here, and there was a replacement for me waiting at the hotel. Raf had even offered me his extra condo to stay in tonight since he was still in LA. It was something I knew he wouldn’t typically offer his employees, but I wasn’t just his employee—I was his friend.

His friend who’d almost crossed a line there was no going back from.

I was looking forward to a full night off. Maybe it would help me get my head straight if I wasn’t around Brynn and her sweet scent—or the memory of her little bullet vibrator between her legs and my name on her lips which had haunted me for the last several weeks.

I’d never struggled so hard to focus on the job.

We arrived at the hotel, and I opened Brynn’s door like I always did. She slid across the backseat and stepped out, but her foot must’ve gotten caught on something because she started to tip forward as if she was going to fall, and I quickly placed my hand on her belly to catch her while my other hand came out to grab hers. She looked up at me, those big green eyes once again holding me captive in all the ways they shouldn’t.

“Okay?” I choked out, trying to remember she was a job.

Just a fucking job.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, sorry.”

I nodded and stepped back, removing my palm from her belly, while keeping my other hand tight around hers to help her the rest of the way out. The skin of the hand that had landed on her stomach tingled as if the nerves had been affected by touching her.

Isn’t that always how I felt even at the simplest touch with her? What was it about her that caused this reaction when I’d never experienced it before in my life—with a client or otherwise?