The Bodyguard: A Navy SEAL Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  We head to her apartment so she can gather some spare clothes and toiletries to take back to my place. She lets me in and I’m surprised by how small and simple her place is. She could definitely afford a nicer apartment. Even the amount she’s paying me for the week would cover the rent of a nicer place for a full year. The apartment is meticulously clean, and she seems to be making quick work of getting her essentials packed.

  I wander the small apartment while she gathers her things and look at the pictures on display. There’s a picture of her and Hubert smiling in front of some rolling green gardens and a palatial white building. There’s also a picture of her and Jason. It’s mixed in with a collage of pictures she has with various members of the crew, but seeing them, faces pressed cheek to cheek and smiling makes me want to hit something. I don’t own her though. I have no right to be jealous of what she does or who she sees. I especially don’t have a right to get pissed over the past. I’m the one who threw her away. Of course she moved on.

  She wheels out one small black suitcase. “All set,” she says.

  Her hair shows some of the natural curls toward the ends as it dries and I have to fight the urge to spear my fingers through it. “Good,” I say a little stiffly. “Let’s go.” I keep thinking about how I nearly fucked her last night. I still remember how perfect her tight ass looked when I yanked her pants down and almost spanked her. The thought of punishing her for all the little games she has played with me makes my cock hard, but it’ll have to remain a thought. Although I’ve barely been back with her for a day and we already almost fucked.

  Jesus. It’s only our second night together and I’m not even sure if I can keep my hands off her for another day, let alone the rest of the week.

  “Kennedy is coming over to work on lines with me,” says Makayla. “I told her she’ll have to come to your place.”

  I nod. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

  I help her load her suitcase in the back of my car and when I’m walking to get in, I notice a van parked at the other end of the parking garage. The engine is running and someone sits behind the wheel. Something about it makes my hairs stand on end. “Wait here,” I say to Makayla.

  She gives me a strange look, but stays put.

  I jog toward the van and increase my pace when I hear the engine rev and see it start to back out. I’m nearly to the vehicle when the driver guns the gas, making the tires squeal and rounds the corner. I stop short, watching after it helplessly.

  “What was that about?” she asks. Her voice a little strained, even though I can tell she’s trying to sound disinterested. I guess her acting ability doesn’t completely translate to real life.

  “I had a feeling about that car,” I say, realizing how dumb it sounds as I get behind the wheel and start the engine.

  She grins. “So you decided to just run at it? What were you going to do? Touch it?”

  “I was going to make sure they weren’t following us.”

  “Why would someone follow us? I mean, I know there are the stalkers and all that, but what’s the point of just following us around?”

  “They could be gathering information, looking for patterns of behavior, trying to find the ideal time to make their move. Anything.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been smarter to watch and see if they followed us? You know… instead of running at them like a big barbarian and scaring them off?”

  I grip the steering wheel in annoyance. Yes, it would have been, but my feelings for you are clouding my judgment. My need to see my cock plunge into that perfectly tight pussy of yours has me completely and utterly distracted. “Why don’t you let me do my job?”

  She shakes her head and sits back in her seat, looking out the window as I drive us to my place.

  Makayla is going to get me into trouble. Big fucking trouble. I need to find a way to get my mind off getting between her legs and get it back on the job before one of those asshole stalkers decides to make a move.

  9

  Makayla

  Kennedy arrives at Jesse’s apartment shortly after we do. Jesse lets her in and I watch with annoyance when she eyes him up and down. She bites her lip and looks to me, raising her eyebrows suggestively, apparently not caring that Jesse can see what she’s doing.

  “Stop it,” I mouth at her while Jesse isn’t looking. “Jesse, do you think you could do your whole brooding thing somewhere else? Out of Kennedy’s field of view, maybe?”

  Kennedy reaches to touch his forearm. “Not necessary at all, Jesse. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  I hate the spike of jealousy I feel at seeing her touch him. He’s not mine. I don’t get to be jealous, especially when I’ve spent most of our time together pushing him away. He was definitely ready to sleep with me last night though, and that has to count for something. If I was keeping score, that is. It’s just an innocent touch on the arm, at least it would be if I didn’t know Kennedy better. She would never take a guy out from under my nose, but I’ve been doing my best to convince everyone that I’m not interested in Jesse. The only one who still doesn’t believe I don’t want him is me.

  “Stop crossing your fingers then,” I say, a little more testily than I intend. “I swear, you’re about as mature as a four-year-old sometimes.”

  “Oh come on,” Kennedy whines. “Kids don’t start doing the crossed fingers thing until at least like eight or nine, right?”

  Jesse looks at me with those gorgeous eyes, looking impeccably tall and strong beside Kennedy’s small frame. “I’ll be brooding on the loveseat. Where I can see you.”

  I can’t be entirely upset. I may not want Kennedy ogling him all night and botching her lines, but I also have to admit to liking the idea of keeping Jesse where I can see him, too. He sits on the loveseat, planting his feet wide and pulling out his phone. He looks so good that I want to jump on his lap and wrap my arms around that strong neck of his. I want to feel his cock hardening under my ass and watch the desire blossom in his eyes. I got a taste of his need for me last night, and I hoped a little time would quench my feelings for him, but all it has done is made me even hungrier.

  “Want something to drink?” I ask Kennedy.

  “You know me so well,” she says. Her eyes dart past me to Jesse and linger there too long.

  I snap my fingers. “Focus, Kennedy.”

  I hear Jesse cough from behind me and I have to drag Kennedy by the arm into the kitchen.

  “Sorry,” she says when we’re out of Jesse’s earshot. “Are you two… you know? Because I’ll back off--reluctantly--if you two are a thing already.”

  “No,” I say slowly. “He’s just my bodyguard. That’s all.”

  “Well then,” purrs Kennedy.

  I force a smile, not liking the thoughts I can see churning behind her eyes at all. “Red wine?” I ask with somewhat forced cheerfulness.

  “Perfect!” she sings, rummaging through Jesse’s cabinets to find glasses.

  “I don’t know if he even has any--”

  “Above the fridge,” he calls.

  We both stop dead, eyes wide. How did he hear that?

  “Does he have super hearing or something?” Kennedy hisses.

  “Yes,” he says almost smugly.

  I feel my cheeks burn hot and even Kennedy looks embarrassed. I grab a bottle of wine, not even thinking about which one. I pour Kennedy and myself a glass, but she grabs the bottle and fills her glass until it’s nearly overflowing. She sucks down a few gulps before walking back into the living room.

  “You should consider letting scientists study those ears of yours,” Kennedy retorts. “I could study the rest of you if--”

  I nudge her, nearly making her spill her wine. Jesse doesn’t look up from his phone, but I think I see the hint of a grin on his face. Does he like that she’s flirting with him?

  “Lines,” I say, wincing when the word comes out harshly, like a curse.

  Kennedy mimics me as she rummages through her bag for the script. “Since when are you Miss Get
To Business?”

  I give her a warning glare and grab my own script. It takes a little while to get comfortable reading lines with Jesse sitting in the corner of the room. He doesn’t look up from his phone, but I can practically feel him listening to us.

  A few glasses of wine later, we’re appropriately loosened up and far too tipsy to be doing any real work with our lines. The sun has set outside, and there’s a calm peacefulness to Jesse’s apartment at night. The large windows let in all the starlight I could ever want, and he looks absolutely divine in that chair, working on his laptop now while we drunkenly fumble through our lines.

  “You’ve got to… uhhh,” Kennedy stumbles over her words, smiling wide. “Tell those--you know… those people. Tell them I’m going to be reaaaal mad if they don’t do what I say.”

  I cover my mouth, trying to hold back a laugh. “Oh I’ll tell them. Wait,” I say. “I’m reading Aaron’s lines right now.”

  Kennedy laughs. “Fuck it! You be Aaron! I’ll be me!”

  “No way! The scene ends with a kiss. I’m not kissing you,” I say, laughing. I notice Jesse glance up from his computer for the first time, shifting in his seat.

  “I don’t have cooties,” says Kennedy.

  “I’ll read the lines, but I’m not kissing you,” I laugh.

  “Ohh, but I can be very… seductive,” says Kennedy, reaching to squeeze a handful of my ass.

  We both laugh before launching back into the lines. I’m highly conscious of Jesse watching us now, computer forgotten in his lap.

  “Will you wait for me?” asks Kennedy a few minutes later, when we’ve stumbled and tripped through most of the scene.

  “You know I will,” I say in the deepest voice I can manage.

  She steps toward me, touching my cheek and leaning so close I can smell the wine on her breath. I feel the full weight of Jesse’s attention on me. I can practically sense his sexual arousal crackling through the room like electricity. Knowing he’s turned on has me excited, and I briefly consider actually kissing Kennedy, just to see what Jesse would do. But when she starts leaning in for the kiss, I put my hand over her mouth and theatrically kiss the back of my own hand, dipping her and pretending to maul her with passionate kisses.

  I lean her back a little too far and we both fall to the floor, laughing. “Were you licking my hand?” I ask, clutching my stomach as laughter rips through me.

  “Just a little,” she says with a devilish smirk.

  Jesse coughs loud and I see him looking at his computer again. I also see the huge outline of his cock straining against his pants.

  “Jesse,” says Kennedy, still sitting on the ground. “Why don’t you play Aaron? I can’t take Makayla serious. She plays such a bad man.”

  “No thanks,” says Jesse.

  “I won’t take no for an answer,” chides Kennedy.

  “She really won’t,” I tell Jesse. “Just humor her.”

  Even through the haze of wine that’s making my head spin, I’m shocked as hell when Jesse actually stalks over and snatches a script from my hand. There’s something in his eyes I can’t place. A challenge? All I can do is stay on the floor where I lounge and watch as Kennedy stumbles to her feet and stands across from him, grinning down at her script.

  I watch as she slurs out her lines and he nails Aaron’s. Every passing second sobers me more and more. He’s a natural, no, he’s more than a natural. He’s good, like, already better than most actors who have trained for years. I watch as he effortlessly reads through the lines, portraying the right emotions and adding his own unique take on each line as if he was born to fill the role. He’s not pretending. He’s not acting. He’s just… I don’t know how to describe it.

  I think maybe he’s so good at it because a man like him has no need to be false or ingenuine. So when he reads the lines, every word rings true. I’m rapt in complete fascination while I watch, noticing that even Kennedy is starting to seem more and more sober. She’s glancing up at him, forgetting to control her face between lines when she watches him deliver powerful line after powerful line.

  They reach the moment of the kiss, and Kennedy’s eyebrows are pulled together, her face full of far more desire than it would be in a simple walk-through. She wants to kiss him, for real. Of course she does. He’s stiff now, on the verge of pulling back, but I can’t take it. I can’t wait to see if he’s going to stop her from kissing him or if he’s going to do it.

  “Stop!” I say quickly, only realizing I’ve stood after I spoke and both of them are looking at me. I realize at the same moment I spoke, Jesse was turning his head away from her.

  Kennedy laughs a little nervously. It’s as if his flawless performance had cast the room in a thick sheen of fantasy, and for those moments, everything that happened would only be happening within the story. It wasn’t real. But something cut through the bundle of confusion in my mind when I watched Kennedy leaning in to kiss him. I may still be angry with him. And I may never completely forgive him, but I’m not ready to watch him be with someone else, no matter how selfish of me that is.

  “Well, maybe I should be going anyway,” says Kennedy. “It’s pretty late.”

  I glance at the clock and realize it’s nearly midnight. “Wow. Yeah. We should all get some sleep. We’re shooting early tomorrow for the sunrise scene.”

  Kennedy grabs her coat and winks at me over her shoulder. She mouths something at me that looks an awful lot like “fuck him” and I try not to blush as I practically push her out the door. It closes behind her and Jesse moves close beside me to lock up. The silence that follows makes me painfully aware it’s only us in the room.

  “You’re amazing,” I say. My words hang in the silence long enough for me to wish I could rephrase. “I mean those lines. You’ve never acted before?”

  He laughs. “No. That was a first. I thought it might be the best way to get you two off my back. I guess I was wrong.”

  I rub the back of my head, feeling dizzy from the wine. “I’m sorry about that. Stopping you, I mean. I just…”

  “From kissing Kennedy?” he asks. “I wasn’t going to kiss her.”

  “You weren’t?” I ask, letting too much of the excitement I feel slip into my words.

  He smirks, catching it. “No. I was hoping to kiss someone else.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. I can’t seem to take a breath deep enough to fill my lungs as I look up into his gorgeous eyes. I take in his hard, sculpted features and the cocky set of his mouth. Looking at his lips was a mistake because all I can think of now is whether they still taste as good as they used to. It’s been ten years since I last kissed him, and I’ve never even come close to finding a substitute. Kissing him now surely wouldn’t live up to the memory though.

  “Who?” I whisper. “Who were you hoping to kiss?”

  His hand cups my cheek and I melt into it, eyes devouring him, inviting him. A kiss. It’s a small thing. A simple thing. It’s harmless.

  He looks down. “My client. But I don’t get involved with clients.”

  “Then don’t get involved,” I breathe. “Just kiss me. Don’t make me beg.”

  When he looks up his green eyes practically burn with heat. I bite my lip as I reach for the back of his neck, urging him to bend down and kiss me. He attacks my mouth with his, kissing me hard at first, as if he can’t hold back his desire, as if the kiss has been building inside him for all these years and now it’s finally free. The kiss is wild and out of control, limitless and brimming with pent up desire and need. I kiss him back just as intensely, feeling the emotions that have been held up within my heart all this time flowing through me, electrifying every movement of his lips against mine, every flick of his hot tongue inside my mouth.

  I breathe him in, loving the manly scent of him, marveling at how it’s exactly as I remembered as it swirls around me, bathing me in him. He’s pinning me to the wall with the weight of his hard body, hands clutching fistfulls of my thick hair. I feel the full length
of his cock pressing into my belly and I shamelessly push myself more firmly against him, relishing in the sensation of it. My breasts pillow between us and my body begs for friction. Resisting the urge to wrap my legs around his hips and grind into him is impossible. I dig my fingers into his broad back, feeling the moment spiral out of control.

  I feel every last ounce of resolve I had to keep him at a distance melting away. All that’s left is memory, nostalgia, and a white-hot, mind-searing need. A need to be held by him and to hold him back, to soothe away the pain that has scarred him since we’ve been apart, and a more basic, primal need to have him inside me, to let him claim me and mark me, to be wanted by a man so powerful and strong.

  I reach for his cock and he suddenly goes stiff, entire body growing rigid, unyielding. His lips fall still and I’m forced to pull back, searching his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve had too much to drink, Kay. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

  “I’m sober enough,” I say, hating that he’s making me beg.

  He shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea. I can’t let myself get distracted and compromise your safety.”

  I grit my teeth, all the desire and lust pulsing through my body suddenly turns into anger. I know he wants this, and I’ve put myself out there to show him I want it too. And he’s seriously going to discard me again? It hurts. God it hurts. I mask the pain with a wall of thick anger that blocks out everything else.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I say.

  He sighs and walks off toward the kitchen. I hear himself pouring a glass of something, probably liquor for himself.

  I can only take so much embarrassment and rejection. I’ve practically thrown myself at the man after I swore I wouldn’t, the man who has done nothing but offer me pain. I’ve made a fool of myself and the thought of having to face him again is too much. I need space. I need to breathe.

  As soon as I’m in the bathroom, I check the small window to see if it’s locked. It is, but the latch locks from the inside, and I’m able to undo it. My heart is pounding as I use the sink to climb high enough to push the window open and stick my head out. As I hoped, there’s a ladder leading down to the back of the building, ending in an alley between Jesse’s apartment building and the one behind it. The ladder is about a foot to the side of the window, which drops straight down at least thirty floors. I thank the wine in my system and the anger pounding through me for a hefty dose of bravery as I step off the sink and put all my weight onto the windowsill, trying not to think about what would happen if I lose my balance.