Page 16 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

Because my pulse is still too loud in my ears, and the image of her standing there wrapped in a towel—hair damp, eyes wide, sensual in a way she probably doesn’t even recognize—won’t let go of me. I strip quickly, then step into the glass enclosure.

I turn on the shower and step under the spray, letting the water pound against my shoulders. Maybe the steam will knock some sense back into me.

She didn’t mean to undo me. That’s the worst part. There was no calculation in her eyes. No practiced seduction. Just embarrassment. Determination. Pride, she didn’t want to admit, was bruised because she’d needed help.

She wanted to prove something—to herself more than to me.

And I’d wanted to help her without taking anything from her in the process.

Christ.

My cock is heavy with need, and I grip my fist around it. Lust thrums through my body like a nightclub beat. Demanding and insistent. Maybe I just need to take the edge off. Maybe it’s just been too damn long since I’ve had sex. That’s probably it, and poor Evelyn is just the woman closest to me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I’m lying to myself, but right now, I need the deception. Just like I need this release. I shuttle my hand up and down my hard length and swallow the groans that rise in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to ignore the way the towel barely contained her full breasts.

“Fuck,” I growl.

My entire body tingles as pressure builds in my balls.

I twist my hand when I reach my tip. Two more strokes and I’m painting the tiled wall of the shower with my seed.

I rest my forehead against the cool tile and let the water run down my face. My heart pounds, reverberating in my ears.

Goddammit!

I shouldn’t have done that. But it makes as much sense to cry over spilled seed as it does milk.

This is why lines exist. Why I’ve lived my life inside them. Because wanting is dangerous. Because the moment you start imagining what it would feel like to be chosen instead of assigned, you’re already in trouble.

Evelyn doesn’t belong to me.

She’s my brother’s responsibility. My job. A woman whose life is already complicated enough without my feelings getting tangled in it.

I dry myself off and step out of the shower

I need advice.

Normally, I’d talk to Mike about a situation like this. Obviously, I can’t talk to him at the moment. Not about Evelyn.

I grab my phone and pull up my contacts. Dillon is a fellow guard with Lone Star Security. We’ve worked on some assignments together in the past, and I trust his judgment.

Me: You got a minute?

Dillon: Sure. What’s up?

Me: I think I’ve fucked up.

Me: Pretty sure I’m close to breaking our cardinal rule.

Dillon: Falling for an asset?

Me: Yeah. But it gets worse.

Dillon: Explain.

Me: She’s supposed to marry my brother. I’m protecting her and escorting her to Vegas for the wedding.

Dillon: That’s shit luck.