He's big, bad, and determined to protect me at all costs...
The moment I set eyes on my new bodyguard, I want him for more than protection. But Gage is older, covered in tattoos, and far too rough-and-ready to be interested in a good-girl pop star like me. Or at least, that's what I think until he reveals a protective, possessive streak that goes far beyond doing his job. My guardian angel will do anything to keep me safe...and his.
This book has a 4.6 star average rating on Amazon. It has recently been removed from kindle unlimited and put on all retailers.
It is the first in a short series (two books) where each can be read as a standalone.
I feel his eyes on me before I see him. Shivers creep along my exposed arms and legs, and I can't tell if it's an instinctive warning, or something else. For the past few days, I've viewed everyone through the lens of friend or foe, but I'm not sure how to categorize this sensation. It's not hostile, just watchful.
As I move, the steps of the dance come to me naturally because I've done it so many times before, and my gaze sweeps the crew milling around to the side of the dance floor. Audiovisual technicians, assistants, and backup dancers. My manager, Bobbie, paces the room with a clipboard clutched to her chest. But there, in the corner, cloaked in shadows and almost out of sight, I find him, and stumble from the shock of his presence.
Standing closer to seven feet in height than six, it's amazing I didn't see him as soon as he entered. Factoring in the tattoos that twist along his arms that ripple as he folds muscular biceps over his chest, and he's the kind of man you don't forget.
Intimidating.
Savage.
Sexy beyond words.
My body reacts to him, a flush racing up my cheeks while a kind of fever grows between my legs. I spin and press my thighs together, seeking relief, but then I have to continue on to the next move, ending the brief reprieve. My gaze locks with his, and I can't tell what color his eyes are from here, but they're intense. It feels like he's caressing me. Lingering on me. I'm not curvy, but I've been told my legs are great, and he seems to see something he likes.
Am I imagining the flare of interest? Conjuring it out of pure longing? Or is it really there? I add a little more shimmy to my dance moves and study him for a response. It feels like we're the only two people in the room.
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Alejandro Wilde
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