Romance Novels With Bodyguards Novels & Stories

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.

A story of a bodyguard and an artist, a protector and a creator, a partnership that had healed not only their own wounds, but the wounds of the world. A story that, like the horizon over their beloved valley, was endless. The End.

“…Of course I am.” “Good. You should be.” She leaned in, eyes fierce. “Because I’m not even the one in your shoes, and I want to burn them both to the ground.” I sat back, silent. She softened slightly but didn’t let up. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But this is Rio. Someone who’s been by your side for three years. And now you know he’s not just your bodyguard—he’s Nikolai freaking Dorne. Billionaire, boss man, sexy-as-hell Italian dreamboat.”

The deep melodious sound of his voice which melted her heart was just the tip of the iceberg. He had the physique of a bodyguard, his black curled hair, full brows and fine jawline which looked like it was perfectly chiselled God himself was enough to keep her staring. She was drunk but still conscious enough to know that the person standing in front of her was drop-dead handsome. She chuckled slightly while he pulled a high stool close to hers and sat down gently. Her heart raced significantly, she wasn't one who easily fell for guys, "why on earth am I finding it difficult to breathe?!" she asked herself trying to avoid his concerned gaze.

a voice yelled and pulled me before I was run over by the car. I stumbled to the ground, my head resting on chest of this strange figure. When I raised my head to him, I was met with a set of dangerous blue eyes staring back at me. Short brown hair, tight jaw and a bit of a mustache, he was gorgeous. I had no idea men like this could be bodyguards, he would excel more if he were a model. He gently pulled me off the ground, and before I knew it, I was spun around. The sound of a gunshot flew past my ears, blood splattered on my face.

Roman stared at her hand locked on his wrist, the warmth from her palm seeping right into his own skin as he trailed behind her quietly. Looking at the two of them, they resembled an annoyed owner pulling her naughty puppy behind her. She stopped when they were far enough from where Carl and Roman's driver stood, her eyes looking fierce as she glared at Roman. "Why did you agree with Ryan to assign a bodyguard to escort me? I never asked for a bodyguard." Alana's blood was obviously boiling from the way she spoke. Roman's gaze remained lazy, meeting her hard glare. "You didn't have to ask, you needed one, especially if you're in a relationship with someone like me," he said, the last part in

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.

"Maybe I'm just a Roglas. That seems to be enough." "No." Rafael shifted to face her fully. "This isn't about your family name. I've dealt with the Roglases before. They're small-time, barely worth my attention. But tonight, I watched the Bratva, the Calabrians, and a private military contractor all try to grab you. That level of interest doesn't come from being a minor mafia princess." Cassandra's face had gone pale. "I don't understand." "Neither do I. Yet." The car pulled into an underground garage. Rafael's safe house, a renovated warehouse he used for situations exactly like this. Secure, private, impossible to find unless you knew where to look.

Isabella, for her part, had a handsome, tall, gentle bodyguard, Christian, who took over from her formal guard, Tony, who had gone for paternity leave and didn't return; rather, he was transferred to another section. "Don't you think he will make the best husband for me?" Isabella, sitting with her friend Emily, speaks. "My princess, do you mean Xavier?" Emily asked, not knowing whom the princess was referring to. "No, but my bodyguard. I am in love with him." She answered boldly. Emily could get surprised; she kept mute for a minute; her tongue seemed so heavy to roll words out from her mouth, but she had to talk.