Novel & Cerita Bodyguard Romances

My bodyguards also known as my shadows all surrounded me and the new ones stayed by the car and walked around from time to time, it's exhausting and I was tired of the whole drama but that seemed to attract people to the cafe. Maybe I didn't mention it before but my bodyguards are kind of ripped most especially, Fabio, Rio, and Dallas they have this brawny super muscular build like they were born in a gym or something. Bruce even joked about jumping on one of them but I warned him not to, Rio might kill him if that happens from what I know he hates gay men. Or that's what he wants us to believe, I really don't know. "You know you can sit right? Standing will drain your energy" I said to the

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.

“You know exactly what way. Every time you moved on the red carpet tonight, it showed everything. Your hips. Your breasts. I had to stay focused.” Amara’s pulse quickened. Heat pooled between her legs. She shifted on the seat, moving a little closer to his side of the limo. Her knee brushed against his. Neither of them pulled away. “You’ve been protecting me for six months now,” she said softly. “Always so professional. Always so controlled. Does it ever get tiring?” Roman’s dark eyes locked on hers. “It gets tiring when the woman I’m protecting looks like you do in that gown. When I have to stand there pretending I don’t notice how perfect your body is. How good you smell when you walk past

“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.”

“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.”

“Where do you work now, Mr. Arka? And what kind of business does your family run?” He leaned slightly forward. “To be able to win Miss Mireya's heart...” “Your background must be extraordinary, right?” He was clearly trying to humiliate Arka in front of everyone. Yet Arka didn't appear bothered in the slightest. He answered calmly. “Bodyguard.” Silence. Then... “A bodyguard?!” Kelvin's voice immediately rose. Several guests at nearby tables turned to look. Kelvin pointed at Arka with undisguised ridicule. “Miss Mireya... If you wanted to find a scapegoat to reject this date, you should've at least found someone more convincing!”

I jackknife my body, and I knock my head against the side panel, and it hurts. How much air is there in here? It’s hot, and it smells like fumes. Where is he taking me? And where’s Dimitri? Roman never goes anywhere without his bodyguard. I was under the impression Morozov made it so. Whatever Roman does for the organization, he’s irreplaceable, and these mobsters don't want to lose their income. Apart from the drugs and guns they run. But Roman also does what he wants. And for some reason, he doesn’t want a witness to whatever he’s going to do to me.

The way they rose and fell with her breathing, the faint sheen of sweat already forming in the club heat… it was driving me insane. “You know,” I leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear as we swayed, “if you keep looking around like that, people are going to think you’re my jealous girlfriend instead of my bodyguard.” She scoffed, but I felt her breath hitch when I slowly slid my hand from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her even tighter against me. “Eyes up here, pretty boy,” she muttered, though her body betrayed her by pressing closer for a split second.

“Hello?” “Yes!” I blinked, focusing on his face. “He told me about you.” I folded my arms instead of accepting his hand. “I don't need a babysitter,” I said to him, letting my displeasure show on my face. “I'm a bodyguard,” he corrected, annoyed I was calling him a babysitter. “Isn't it all the same?” I leaned back on my door. “Return to my father and tell him I don't need a damned security guard or whatever the hell you call yourself.”