Bodyguard Romance Novels Mga Nobela at Kwento

“That’s not something anyone wrote into a ledger two years ago. That’s mine. I’m giving it to you freely, right now, with my eyes open.” Something in my chest ached, warm and full, entirely unlike the cold dread the ledger had left there an hour earlier. “I love you too,” I said, the words simple and clear, no hesitation left in them. “Not because of anything that was arranged. Because of every ordinary, unplanned moment since — the coffee, the shooting range, the ruined eggs. Because of exactly who you are underneath all of it.” I touched his face gently. “Whatever we find out next, I want to face it as that. Not a client and a bodyguard. Just us.”

I liked being around her because she had so many stories to tell me and indulged my guilty pleasures… food I knew I wouldn't be able to eat at the table without Father giving me the stink eye or saying something offensive. JJ as I call her came in just then, looking as stiff as ever. She used to be in the military, a firm believer in playing by the rules, and my oldest bodyguard to date. I always wondered why she never quit like the others. Maybe she just really liked her work. I never could tell. She never really opened up to me. Her real name was Jennifer Jordan, but I liked calling her JJ. I couldn't see myself calling my bodyguards by their surnames like Father did.

Expensive cars moved through the streets—Bentleys, Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces—tires crunching snow, headlights cutting yellow beams. But the bodyguards were everywhere. Men in white camouflage that blended with the drifts, rifles slung low. Others in black tactical gear, patrolling in pairs, earpieces glinting under street lamps. The place looked peaceful, but it felt guarded, like every street corner had eyes watching. I was lost in the sight—the snow-covered roofs, smoke curling from chimneys, moonlight making everything glow—when I felt heat on my skin. Enzo’s gaze. I looked down and caught him staring. My nipples were swollen, pushing hard against the thin blue top.

“I didn’t know I married a bodyguard. You are acting like my own personal security. Are you going to follow me all day now? Even when I go to read my books? Even when I am writing in my little journal? Are you going to be my shadow, Mr. Bodyguard?” Vincenzo looked at her, a little more relaxed. “Yes, tesoro. I am your shadow. I am your biggest bodyguard. I will be with you always if that’s the only way to keep you safe. And if you dare to tease me again, I will follow you even to the bathroom.”

He asked, wiping his face on his shirt, "or are you just going to stare at me?" "I was fine staring at you," I admitted. There was no reason to try and hide it; he knew he looked good. Now, had he been able to read my mind, then I would have been mortified. I had no right to be thinking of my bodyguard in that way... even though these thoughts are literally what every bodyguard romance is about. I just never realized there could be any truth to the common trope. He just shook his head. "You should at least do something while you're here. It'll be good for you," he encouraged.

“Really. Just a few scratches.” Her gaze flicked to Cole, taking in his imposing frame and the gun holstered discreetly at his side. “And this must be your new… assistant?” “Something like that,” I muttered. “Bodyguard,” Cole said simply, offering his hand. “Cole Maddox.” Julia hesitated, then shook it. “Well. You’ll have your hands full with this one.” “Already noticed,” he replied, deadpan. I groaned. “Fantastic. You two can bond over how impossible I am.”

And despite having spent last night being thoroughly ravished, despite my body still carrying the evidence of Zade's passion—I felt my arousal building as I read. The words painted vivid pictures. Bodies intertwined. Hands exploring. Mouths tasting. The heroine being taken against a wall by her bodyguard, his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. I shifted in my chair, my thighs pressing together. The scene was detailed. Explicit. The kind that left nothing to the imagination. The bodyguard character was dominant. Possessive. He told the heroine exactly what he wanted to do to her, how he wanted to take her, in language that was crude and raw and incredibly arousing.

“Public perception is reality. And reality says: America ships this romance.” I swallow hard. Romance. Right. I finally turn fully toward Giovanni. He doesn’t look back. He’s staring at the wall with that cold, locked-down expression he’s worn ever since the night at the club. I find my voice. It feels thin. “And if we both say no?” Dave gives a sympathetic shrug that holds zero sympathy. “Then the story becomes that Cara is unstable again and her bodyguard abandoned her during the most crucial point in her career. Headlines will be merciless.”

I want it to look bold yet casual at the same time, but inside I’m panicking. Jack smirks down at me, clearly entertained. “Careful, Gabby. I don’t want your bodyguard to get the wrong impression.” He says the word "bodyguard" the way Nicole says it, with a mocking undertone. I tamp down the prickle of annoyance in my chest. I get why they think it’s corny, but I literally almost died. And I can’t believe they’re making me defend the atrocity that is having a bodyguard.

I was trapped in this marriage because without him I would have nothing and no one. "That's a great answer and I’m sorry about your dad.” "Tell me, Mrs. Pembroke, why do you need a bodyguard?" Damien asked as he took a sip of the wine. "I wanted...protection. My husband has been dealing with some sketchy business men and I don't feel safe." He raised a brow at me but he didn't say anything further. Could he see through my lie?