Her Bodyguard Read online

  The princess swings her long legs out of bed, and walks over to me. The black slip barely touches the top of her thighs. The fabric skims over her body, revealing the outline of her breasts, and her small nipples poke against the thin silk. "Ta-da," she says. "I'm dressed."

  "That's not outdoor wear."

  "It's summer. It's basically a sundress. It's clothing. Give me my phone."

  "You're not going anywhere in that dress," I burst out. The response is automatic, the words flying out of my mouth before I even think about how parental they sound.

  Alexandra smiles slowly. "I'm not putting on any other clothes, James," she declares. "So, I guess I'll have to retrieve the phone myself."

  I try to suppress the low rumble in my throat at the thought of her doing what she's threatening to do.

  Except it's no threat.

  Her hands go to my belt buckle, and she undoes it slowly, followed by the button on my pants. Then the zipper slides down, her movements excruciatingly slow. Her eyes never leave mine the entire time.

  She slides her palm flat against my skin, right down the front of my boxer briefs. I inhale sharply at her touch, her palm soft and delicate and – holy shit, she's touching my cock. There's no disguising the fact that my cock is as hard as a rock, but she's definitely aware of that. She smiles triumphantly, but I'm not sure if that's about the phone or about the fact that I'm obviously hard for her.

  With one hand, she retrieves the phone. With the other, she slides her palm up the length of my shaft and all the way to the tip where pre-cum already drips in response to her touch. "Well done, James," she says, her voice soft. "You're packing quite the weapon."

  "Careful, princess," I warn. My voice is thick, and I can't think about anything else except the fact that her hand is where it is right now.

  "Why? Is it loaded?" she asks wryly. Then she takes her hand away, zipping up my pants and patting my crotch. "There. Was there anything else?"

  Was there anything else?

  It takes a minute for any blood at all to go back to my brain so I can answer that question. My head is spinning. "Put on your shoes," I growl.

  "Why?" She seems amused by the fact that I've been rendered almost incoherent by her touch.

  I clear my throat, shaking my head as if I can shake off the massive hard-on I have for the girl, and button my pants. "I came to get you out of here. You're always up for breaking out of the palace, so don't even pretend like you want to sit in your room and mope around all afternoon."

  "You're going to take me out of the palace?"

  I pull the keys to one of the security vehicles out of my pocket and dangle them from my fingers. "Come on. If you're a good girl, I'll even let you drive."

  She shrugs. "I can't drive."

  "What do you mean, you can't drive?"

  Her cheeks turn pink. "I mean exactly what I said. I never learned to drive."

  "How do you not learn to drive?"

  She rolls her eyes. "I've always had drivers, ever since I was a child. None of us are allowed to drive for ourselves."

  "Never, ever?"

  "It's not that big of a deal."

  "Of course it's a big deal. You're a rebel. What if you need to drive a getaway car?"

  "Are you insinuating that I might someday rob a bank?" She puts her hand on her hip, which makes the fabric of the slip ride up higher on her thigh.

  I try very hard to ignore that fact. "I'm not insinuating anything," I tell her. "I'm saying directly that I'm shocked you haven't planned a diamond heist or stolen a car at this point in your life."

  Finally, she laughs. "Well, now you know why I haven't."

  I walk toward the bedroom door. "So, let's go rectify that."

  "Are you saying we're going to rob a jewelry store?"

  I turn around, ignoring her question. "If you insist on going out of the palace wearing that, at least put some appropriate shoes on."

  "Why do I need shoes, exactly?"

  "Because you're going to learn to drive a car, obviously."

  "You're going to teach me to drive," she says flatly.

  "Clearly," I say, annoyed at the fact that my boner doesn't seem to want to go anywhere, not with her standing there wearing that. "If you would just put your damned shoes on already."

  "Fine." She rolls her eyes and huffs before slipping on a sparkly silver pair of heels.

  "You're wearing those to drive?"

  "I can put on slippers, if that would be more appropriate."

  "Slippers would probably go better with that little slip you're wearing," I retort gruffly. "Just, whatever. Let's go before I change my mind."

  "Before you change your mind? You're the one who insisted on dragging me out of bed to drive a car."

  "Are you ever not mouthy?"

  "Do I look like I'm ever not mouthy?"

  "Never mind. I don't want to talk about your mouth," I mumble.

  Or think about her mouth. Or her hand. Or what's underneath that slip she's wearing.

  Outside at the car, I automatically reach for the back door, only pausing when I realize we're not doing the usual thing. "Get in the front seat."

  "Like, up there?"

  "Yes, up there. In the passenger seat. Haven't you ever ridden in the front seat of a car?"

  She huffs. "Of course I have. I mean, well, I've ridden in a convertible. Those don't have a back seat."

  "Other than with Asher," I say darkly, recalling how I pulled her rebellious little ass out of his car and dropped her into the back of the SUV. The idea of him driving her around anywhere – the idea of him doing anything with her – grates on me.

  "I'm sure that I've ridden in the front seat of a car before," she says. She pauses when she sees the skeptical look on my face. "Don't look at me like I'm some kind of sheltered, pathetic little thing."

  I laugh. "Trust me, sweetheart, there's no way I'm looking at you like you're any kind of pathetic little thing."

  "Fine. I'll get in the front seat," she huffs. "Are you happy now?"

  I pull open the door and give her a little fake half-bow as she slides inside. "I'm ecstatic, princess. This is everything I'd hoped for in life. It's the fulfillment of years of dreaming and wishing."

  "There's no need for attitude, James," she calls as I close the door.

  When I slide behind the driver's seat, she kicks one leg up, the heel of her shoe on the dashboard. "So, where are we going?"

  "This is your country, princess. You tell me." I drive away from the palace, trying to ignore the fact that she's sitting the way she is right now, with her thighs slightly spread. The black slip she's wearing pools around her hips, giving me an unobstructed view of her inner thighs.

  I have to force my eyes to focus onto the road ahead.

  "Don't you have a plan?" she asks.

  "I didn't have a plan," I realize.

  This was spur-of-the-moment, much like everything else that's happened with this girl. I don't do spur-of-the-moment. I don't do impulsive. I don't do rash or ill-considered. Yet, here I am, doing exactly that.

  "You always have a plan. Now, you're telling me that we're just going to drive aimlessly through Protrovia?"

  I shrug. "We can. Or, we can make a run for the border, hop a plane to the South Pacific, and live on an island under assumed names. I'll go by James, for obvious reasons, and you can go by Bonnie. I didn't have anything else going on this afternoon, so the possibilities are endless."

  "Bonnie?"

  "If you want, I'll be Clyde. But I thought you preferred James."

  She grins at me, tucking her hair behind her ear as it falls around the side of her face. I'm surprised by how good that smile makes me feel. "You're alright, bodyguard. You know that? Sometimes, anyway."

  "Well, you're occasionally not completely irritating," I retort.

  "Occasionally? Well, then, I'm becoming soft. I'll have to up my game. If there's anything I hate to be described as, it's boring." Her hand runs up her thigh, her fingers playing