AllFreeNovel
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"I'm almost finished," I mutter, my hands flying across the keys as I caption the last of Olive's posts for next week. I finished mine earlier. I have two other clients who still need content sorted for next week, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow.
"No." Zion leans over me at the table, pushing my laptop closed.
I snatch my fingers off the keys, gaping up at him. "I was using that."
"You've been using it for the last four hours. And you worked all morning before the pool party, which was also work." His disapproval is loud and clear.
"I have a lot to do."
"I noticed." He pulls me up from my chair. "You're done for the night."
"You don't make the rules, Zion. Not when it comes to my job."
"My job is to look out for you. That means ensuring you're taken care of, angel baby. If that means I have to drag you away from your computer, then I'll drag you away." His tone leaves no room for argument.
Except I'm me so I argue anyway.
"You aren't dragging me anywhere," I growl, though I'm not even sure why I'm pushing the issue. The truth is that I'm exhausted. My eyes are blurry from staring at the screen for so long. My butt hurts from sitting in the chair. People think my job is glamorous. Most of the time, it's this. Me dressed in sweats and a tank top, trying to figure out content for myself and the clients I refuse to drop just because I got popular.
When the shiny fades and everyone finds someone else to fawn over, I'll still have my business. Like I told Zion, it's the only reason I do any of this.
He eyes me critically for a long moment before his expression softens. "You make it damn hard to be mad about you being so fucking stubborn when you're as sweet as you are, angel baby. Come on." He dips, scooping me into his arms before I can say anything.
I grumble wordlessly anyway. What is it with this man carrying me around? He's supposed to be my bodyguard, not my own personal pack mule.
He strides from the kitchen, hitting the lights on his way out. The living room is already dark. I tried to convince him to sit in there and watch TV while I worked, but he refused. He sat at the table all night instead, pretending to play on his phone.
I think he spent most of the night with his eyes on me. Every time I looked up, it was into his eyes.
He carries me down the hall, heading straight for my bedroom. I don't even want to know how he's figured out which is mine. My cheeks heat when he pauses in the doorway, taking it in. It's…a lot. Soft cream walls and pastel pink fabrics turn the small room into a little haven. But the clothes and shoes strewn indiscriminately across the floor and the jewelry spilling across the top of the dresser give it a chaotic vibe.
"I've been meaning to clean it," I mumble, embarrassed. I'm probably the only twenty-three-year-old on the planet with a room that looks like a tornado hit it. But time is something I don't have enough of most days. I work from sunup until I collapse, and then I get up and start again.
When you have a business to run, you get to pick your hours. You just have to pick the fourteen a day that works best.
"I like your room," he murmurs.
"Liar," I laugh quietly. "It's a disaster area."
"It's lived in." He picks his way across, planting his feet carefully to avoid stepping on any of the clothes or shoes littering the floor. Once we're beside the bed, he gently lowers me to the floor. "Get ready for bed, baby. I'm going to go get my shit."
"Okay." I turn toward the bathroom before his words register. "Wait a minute. Your stuff? What do you mean your stuff?"
"I'm spending the night." He says it casually, as if it's a foregone conclusion.
"What do you mean you'respending the night?" My voice is suddenly a full octave higher than it should be. I refuse to believe anyone can blame me for it. This crazy man just invited himself to spend the night with me.
He grabs the hem of my shirt, reeling me in until I'm pressed up against him. "I mean," he says, his eyes locked on my face, "that I'm your bodyguard. That means I'm by your side twenty-four-seven until Madden deals with Lyle Taggert."
"B-by my side?"
"Yeah, baby. You heard me right. You'll be sleeping in that bed with me tonight." His wicked grin has me breaking out in a cold sweat as he lowers his head, placing his lips against my ear. "And I fucking love to cuddle."
Dear Mother of God, please send help. Seriously. Help. Me.
He brushes his lips across my temple before he releases me. "Get ready for bed, Makenzie. I'll be right back." He strides toward the bedroom door, only to pause on the threshold. "Don't even think about trying to lock me out."
Lock him out? Why would I do that when I can smother him with a pillow while he's asleep?
