Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Huh?” I asked.
“What?” His mouth was right in front of my eyes, and I tried hard not to stare at it when he spoke.
I blinked. “I missed that last part. About the cupping, I mean.” What the hell? Did I just really say that?
His lips parted in a soft smile, and I saw that silly tooth again. Jesus, what the hell was happening to me?
“The ear clap. Let me start again,” he said.
I had a stern conversation with myself about the reasons why I was there that included a reminder to myself that I was most definitely not interested in how that man, or any other man for that matter, smelled or looked. Or anything to do with groins.
“The ear clap,” I confirmed. “Yes.”
He ran through the maneuver again, and this time when he put his hand over my ear I definitely did not feel goose bumps rise up on my neck and scalp at his touch. I also did not notice the warmth of his skin or the tingle of his touch.
Maybe it had been a little too long since someone had touched me sexually, so now I was interpreting any touch as sexual. I thought about reactivating my hookup app to see if there was a decent opportunity for a casual connection out here in little Hobie, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Based on how high my anxiety was these days since the break-in, I could only imagine the panic attack I’d have in a stranger’s bed.
As Saint stepped closer to me, I inhaled his scent and let my eyes drift closed for the briefest moment.
At least for now, I was completely safe in his company.
But I’d be damned if I’d let him see how much that meant to me.
Chapter 4
Saint
As soon as my hand went over his ear and my fingertips brushed against his hair, I knew August Stiel was going to be a problem for me. Hell, I’d really known it the minute I’d seen him in the lobby with those little furrows of worry in his brow. There was something about him that seemed tucked away and vulnerable, and fuck if that didn’t strike a chord with me.
I wanted to rub my thumb over those two frown lines on his forehead and smooth them out. For good.
As my fingers slid into the hair behind his ear, I closed my eyes and swallowed. The job, Saint. Focus on the contract Stiel could bring to Lanny. Remember who this guy is. Rich kid like the spoiled pop star—Trouble with a capital T.
I cleared my throat. “So, once you hit and push with the ear clap, you use your other fist for the punch. The ear clap is meant to push them off balance so you can surprise them with the punch,” I explained. I demonstrated with a slow-motion punch that landed as softly as a whisper to his jaw. His skin was warm and scruffy against the backs of my knuckles, and I pulled my hand away.
“Now you try.”
August looked down at his feet and gulped, sending out massive insecurity vibes. That was bad. Just as he began to cup his hand and swing his arm around, I reached out to stop him.
“Wait,” I said, surprising him. “I might have rushed into this part. Let me go back to the part about carrying yourself with confidence and surety. You want to almost strut—back straight, head held high, making eye contact with those around you. The best thing to do is to give off a don’t fuck with me vibe as you move through a potentially dangerous situation.”
“I know,” he said, looking up at me and narrowing his eyes. “You already explained that part. I got it.”
“Then why do you look scared of me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes darkened and his lips tightened. “I’m not scared of you. Quite the opposite actually.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t scare me in the slightest.”
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. “Really?”
He rolled his eyes, but I detected a slight tremor in his voice. “Really.”
“Dude, I’m like intimidating,” I said like an idiot.
He barked out a nervous laugh. “No. You’re not. You’re a kitten.”
Was this guy for real?
“A kitten? Me? Are you joking?”
He crossed his arms and looked me up and down, making my skin flush and my boxer briefs way too brief.
“A sleepy, purring kitten,” the smaller man concluded. “Not intimidating. You have a baby face, to be honest. Is that why you have to do this instead of security in the field like a real bodyguard?”
Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
“I am a real bodyguard.”
“Right,” he smirked again. “Sorry. Sure you are. Didn’t mean to offend you.”
I must have been wrong. Maybe this guy was as much of a snob as my pop star client had been. “Oh my god, are you for real right now?”