The Bodyguard Who Broke Me
For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back.
Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real.
“After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.”
“No.”
By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...”
That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear.
“Good girl. I just want you too much.”
The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea.
The moment she opened the passenger
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