Free Her Billionaire Bodyguard Bridegroom by Lisa Weaver

self-imposed water torture, the embers of passion she’d stoked to an outright blaze still scorched him. Ten minutes later, he gave up, stepped out and toweled off.
    When he returned to the bedroom, there were icicles in her eyes. “I know you’re angry at me right now,” he murmured. “But trust me, you’ll feel differently in the morning.”
    “And if I don’t?” she challenged.
    As much as he wanted to brush off her query, he found himself giving it serious thought. Getting involved with her on a physical level would complicate things to the umpteenth degree. On the other hand, it would make sticking close to her a great deal simpler. The benefits would balance the additional risk, he reasoned. And he could handle the potential complications.
    Decision made, he met her inquiring gaze head-on, determination and desire fizzing in his blood.
    “If you don’t, and if I’m certain there are no extenuating factors clouding your judgment, then I can assure you I won’t be walking away from you the next time. But this is too important for there to be any doubt. I’ll wait until you tell me you’re ready to take our relationship to the next level.” He settled on the sofa in the other room and turned off the light. “Now get some rest.”
    Silence reigned for long, drawn-out moments. He assumed she’d fallen asleep until her sweet voice broke the stillness.
    “Luke?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Thanks. For everything.”
    “Don’t mention it.”
    He punched his pillow and sighed. It was going to be another sleepless night.

Chapter Eight
    Brianna was still sleeping soundly when Luke abandoned his makeshift bed on the sofa at the crack of dawn to check on her. Slipping out to the balcony, he closed the door quietly behind him. At least one of them was getting some rest.
    He rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve the gritty-sandpaper sensation lodged there. He was exhausted, but there was no sense in carrying on the pretense of slumber when his body’s unrelenting demand for satisfaction made sleep an impossibility.
    Last night’s cold shower hadn’t cooled the arousal blazing through his blood like an out-of-control wildfire. Even now, hours later, it bubbled through his veins in a rolling boil.
    He ploughed a hand through his hair, further ruffling the already-tousled strands. He needed to stay focused on his mission, a mission that did not involve fantasizing about keeping Brianna’s delectable body “covered” in an entirely different way than this assignment mandated. His thoughts had no business transgressing there. Directing his wayward musings back to the job at hand, he fished his cell phone out of his robe pocket and called Liz.
    “Good morning,” she greeted him, her voice nauseatingly cheerful even at the ungodly hour. “Getting an early start on the day, I see.”
    “I was a little too preoccupied to sleep,” he grumbled. “I thought I’d check in to see if you’ve received any updates on the bombing.”
    “No. But I’m certain the strike on Dimitriou’s daughter’s room wasn’t a coincidence. It’s a good thing you were there to derail it. It could have been much worse.”
    Luke breathed an exasperated sigh. “I should have caught him, Liz. I was on full alert, but the fireworks show threw me. I blew it.”
    “You didn’t blow it. The situation would have been far worse if you hadn’t spotted the intruder and frightened him off. It’s highly likely the bomb was just a diversion. Once he realized you’d made him, he set if off so he could escape. There was no way you could have predicted he’d do something like that.”
    “That doesn’t excuse my sloppiness. I should have spotted him before he had a chance to get that close in the first place. There can’t be another Tanya on my watch,” he asserted, the proclamation resonating with heartfelt determination and raw emotion.
    “I only have three words to say in response to that,” Liz retorted. “Not. Your. Fault.” She enunciated