Free Booty Call (Forbidden Bodyguards Book 2) by Ainsley Booth

today.
    No, I’m wearing a dress because when the spring wind swirls over my bare legs, the skirt’s going to lift up. And I’m going to pretend to hold down the fabric, but not before Scott sees that I’m wearing barely there pink panties underneath.
    A year ago, I would have said I had zero vices.
    Now I’m seriously addicted to seducing an older man.
    He finds me in the library. He shows up fifteen minutes early and lounges quietly in the chair across the table from me. He’s overdressed for a midnight study session, in his dark suit and white shirt—I’m not sure the man owns jeans and t-shirts, and I find myself so distracted by that thought that I set aside my textbook and finally just look at him.
    He’s been looking at me for a while.
    “Do you wear a suit every single day?” I finally ask him, breaking the heavy silence stringing between us.
    “Most days,” he says slowly.
    “I like it.”
    “Good.”
    “I’m pretty much done here.”
    “I’m in no hurry.” Half of his mouth lifts up in an almost-smile. “I like watching you work.”
    “I’d say the same to you, but I’m not sure what you’re doing now.”
    His smirk deepens. “I’m trying to re-establish some business connections I had in England.”
    I laugh. “That’s a total non-answer.”
    “Sure is.”
    I narrow my eyes at him as I tuck my laptop away and try to decide which books I want to check out and which can be re-shelved. “Here,” I finally say, shoving most of them across the table at him. “Carry these downstairs for me.”
    “You need all these books?”
    I shake my head. “But I’ve got the extra muscle tonight, so I might as well take them all and figure out which ones I need when I get home.”
    He follows me to the elevator. I walk in front of him a few feet, hoping he’s checking out my legs, and when I turn around, his gaze is definitely tangled up in my lower body. I flush with inordinate pride, because how many times has he taken me home now and not given in the need throbbing between us?
    But I’ve got faith that one of these days, I’ll be a little bit older and he’ll be a little bit hungrier, and it’ll be enough.
    The weeks-old kiss still burns on my lips. I can still feel his hands on my body.
    One day soon, maybe tonight, it will have to be enough.
    The streets are quiet and it doesn’t take long to get back to my apartment. We get out of his car without discussing it. Maybe he’s just walking me to my door, but I don’t think so. I think the dress worked.
    His hand hovers in the small of my back as we climb the stairs.
    My heart is pounding a mile a minute. I’ve wanted this for months now. Touched myself to a dozen different versions of how this might happen, and none of them felt like this. Not even kissing in New York felt like this, because that was a response. I’d goaded him into that.
    This is different.
    Terrifying. Exciting. Confusing.
    Riddled with doubt.
    In all my fantasies about my sister’s bodyguard taking my virginity, I knew he wanted me. But the truth is, Scott’s had zero problem keeping me at arm’s length despite the chemistry between us.
    So he thinks I’m pretty.
    So he can’t stop looking at my legs.
    He’s not a walking dick—part of why I’m attracted to him, I guess. But that control works against me, too.
    If he says good night at the door, I’m going to need some serious ice cream therapy.
    If he says good night at the door, I’m going to have to admit that I am a silly girl with a silly crush. And I don’t want that to be true.
    So when we get to my apartment, I slide the key into the lock, but I don’t turn the handle. Not yet.
    I want him to make the first move tonight.
    A slow, rough exhale behind me kickstarts my heart. Then I feel his fingers on the nape of my neck. “You want me to come in?”
    “I think you should either come in…” I say slowly, my pulse pounding so hard it hurts. “And if you don’t…maybe you should stay