Page 35 of The Forbidden Bodyguard

I can’t do this.

He can’t do this.

“Tell me to kiss you.” His voice is a rich timbre, and I swear my knees are about to collapse under me.

I swallow. “You want to kiss me.”

“More than my next fucking breath.”

Jesus Christ.

I’ve never wanted anything more than I want that this very moment, standing on Eleventh Avenue in Manhattan in November, freezing my ass off.

Kiss me, Declan.

He glances to the side, and my heart sinks.

“But you’re engaged.” Declan brushes my hair behind my ear.

“I...yes.”

I hate my father.

I hate this entire situation.

I hate my life.

Declan steps back. “I’ll get the car.”

“Declan.” I reach out a hand and take his arm. His eyes burn into mine. “If the choice were mine, I would’ve chosen your kiss.”

Fire explodes in those green globes, and just as I think he’s going to take what he wants—me...all of me—he nods and turns to call my driver.

A part of me dies inside.

Why? He’s just a man. Just my bodyguard.

And yet...he’s more.

CHAPTER NINE

DECLAN

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Stella held my hand in the gallery as I told her about Mom and Dad. I don’t know why I shared my feelings but seeing that artwork and how the artist had found an escape or healing path, it affected me.

And I felt comfortable sharing the moment with her.

I spoke about Dad. He died a hero, and his memory has been kept alive almost to the point it feels like he hasn’t fully left.

That’s the problem.

I haven’t truly grieved. Not completely.

Not so that it fucks me up.

I was telling the truth when I said it’s my mother that I’m concerned about.