Page 49 of Missile Strike

“Shit.” That had come out harsher than he intended.

This woman pushed every button he had.

He stepped back, chest tightening. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” Bitterness laced her tone. “I’m not that introverted, socially inept girl you remember from high school anymore.”

“Bella—”

“For as long as you’ve known me, you’ve been protecting me, just like my parents.”

That stung—not because it wasn’t true, but because he didn’t like being lumped in with the people who’d smothered her in the name of protection.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep you safe.”

“There is when you strip away my control and make my decisions for me,” she shouted. She bit her lip, gaze dropping to the floor. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Dammit.

His hands itched to pull her close. But the rigid way she held herself told him that was the last thing she wanted right now.

He took a deep breath. Let it out. “You’re allowed to be angry.”

Didn’t mean he enjoyed being the reason.

His attention drifted until it caught on the book still sitting on the table beside the couch. Rival agents. A common enemy. Sex hot enough to fog the windows. From what he’d read, the heroine in the book didn’t need saving. She kicked, punched, and shot her way out of danger.

Bella had plenty of courage. What she lacked was training.

According to the information her parents provided, she’d taken one or two self-defense classes before she went to college. Nothing since. No firearms training. Against a man his size, she’d need the skills to create an opening and exploit it without hesitation.

They should have empowered her to defend herself, especially since she’d refused to live with a security detail monitoring her every move.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

Suspicious eyes peered up at him. “What kind of deal?”

“You let me use your spare bedroom. I’ll teach you situational awareness. Self-defense. Then as soon as your father’s event is over and you’re out of the spotlight, you prove to him you don’t need a bodyguard.”

She cocked her head. Her stare assessed him. “You’re bribing me?”

A shrug. More to shake off the feeling that she could see into his soul than anything else. “I’m offering instruction in exchange for letting me do my job.”

The glare she gave him could cut glass. “Your job as head of security for the gala?”

He leaned in. Closer this time. Until only inches separated them and the scent of honeyed jasmine filled his nose. “My job as your head of security.”

She skirted around him then. His gaze followed, monitoring the sway of her hips as she paced the living room.

“Fine.”

His shoulders loosened—

“However…”

—and jacked tight again.

She stopped. Patted Trip’s head. “We need to set some ground rules.”