Page 24 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

“I snorted,” I say dumbly.

He grins. “You did. It was cute. Don’t worry about it. Ready to see your hair?”

“Yes.”

We move back to the sink, and I sit back on the ottoman. He pulls off the towel wrapped around my hair, and there it is.

“It’s still wet, so it’s not a complete picture of what it will look like.”

“But it’s really pretty,” I say. It’s darker than my usual light blonde locks, but the red brings out some color in my cheeks. “Do you hate it?” I ask softly.

“No,” he says. His voice is low. Steady. But his eyes are locked on me. “I most definitely do not hate it.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest. Something hopeful.

I turn toward him, and the space between us feels suddenly charged. Too small. Too intimate.

“I have another question,” I say.

His posture shifts immediately. Not alarmed, just attentive. “Okay.”

I take a breath. My heart is beating too fast, but I don’t want to lose my nerve.

“I know this is… complicated,” I say. “Because of your brother.” I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

He doesn’t interrupt. He never does. Just listens and waits, so very patient.

“It’s just that I’ve had so few choices,” I continue quietly. “Everything in my life has been decided for me before I ever knew I was allowed to want anything at all.”

The air feels thick. Charged.

I look at him. Really look at him. He’s so handsome. Everything I would pick, if I had the luxury.

“So I was wondering,” I say, my voice steady even though my insides are frazzled, “if you would kiss me.”

chapter

eleven

Mitchell

The room goes very quiet after she asks.

Not the awkward kind. The dangerous kind. The kind that presses in on your ribs and makes it hard to breathe.

She wants to know if I would kiss her.

I don’t answer right away. I can’t. Because the moment I do, something changes—and I’m not convinced I’m allowed to be the man who changes it. I don’t know if I can just swoop in and steal my brother’s bride. Whether he picked her or not. I should at least have a conversation with him first. Right?

She’s sitting there on the ottoman, hair darker now, warmer. The red brings out the color in her cheeks, making her blue eyes look even bluer. She stares up at me with hope.

I swallow hard. What I want to do is not think. To not consider the consequences, not weigh the price, and just lean in and kiss her. Claim her as mine.

But I don’t know how to be that man. I always consider the risks and repercussions before doing anything. Without that skill, I could have lost my life or the life of my fellow Marines.

“Evie,” I say carefully, “I shouldn’t.”

Her shoulders dip just slightly, but she doesn’t look away. “I know.”