Twisted-Games

almost grudgingly.
I had been more careful with my actions in recent months, even without
Rhys’s explicit instructions, but I hadn’t expected him to notice. He’d never
said anything about it until now.
A pleasant warmth unfurled in my stomach. “Mr. Larsen, we might not
kill each other after all.”
His mouth twitched.
We continued walking through the park, where we passed couples
making out on the benches, teens huddled by the fountain, and a busker
playing his heart out on the guitar.
I wanted to stay in that peaceful moment forever, but dinner, alcohol, and
a long day conspired to drive exhaustion into my bones, and I couldn’t hold
back a small yawn.
Rhys noticed instantly. “Time to go, princess. Let’s get you to bed.”
Maybe it was because I was delirious from fatigue and the high emotion
of the day, or maybe it was because of my recent dry spell with the opposite
sex, but a mental image of him “getting me to bed” flashed through my mind,
and my entire body flushed.
Because in my imagination, we were doing anything but sleeping.
Images of Rhys naked, on top of me, under me, behind me…they all
crowded my brain until my thighs clenched and my clothes rasped against my
skin. My tongue suddenly felt too thick, the air too thin.
My first sexual fantasy about him, and he was standing less than five feet
away, staring right at me.
I was a princess, he was my bodyguard.
I was twenty-two, he was thirty-two.
It was wrong, but I couldn’t stop.
Rhys’s eyes darkened. Mind reading didn’t exist, but I had the eerie sense
he could somehow crawl inside my brain and pick out every dirty, forbidden
thought I had about him.
I opened my mouth—to say what, I wasn’t sure, but I had to say
something to break the dangerously charged silence.
Before I could utter a word, however, a gunshot ripped through the night,
and chaos ensued.