Twisted Games: A Forbidden Royal Bodyguard Romance

“Five days in paradise,” I drawled. “Swimming, sunbathing, fucking—”
“Rhys.”
“What, you don’t like the itinerary?”
“Lower your voice,” she hissed, her face the color of the tomatoes on her plate. “People will hear.”
“No one’s listening.”

Jules sighed. “Tell your man he’s hot as hell but a total buzzkill.”

“He’s not my man. He’s my bodyguard.” I lowered my voice, but I thought I saw Rhys pause for a millisecond before he resumed polishing his knife.

“Even worse. He’s running your life and you’re not getting any dick from it.”

“Jules.”

“Come here, princess.” I opened one arm. She stepped into it and buried her face in my non-injured shoulder. It was the most vulnerable we’d been in front of the other since we met, and it chipped away at something inside me.

“When you get riled up, your face looks like a strawberry.”

Between the indoor festival setup and the words your face looks like a strawberry leaving Rhys’s mouth, I was convinced I’d woken up in an alternate dimension.

“When you get riled up, your face looks like a strawberry.”

Between the indoor festival setup and the words your face looks like a strawberry leaving Rhys’s mouth, I was convinced I’d woken up in an alternate dimension.

“Keep your underwear, gloves, and heels on,” he said, still in that deceptively soft tone. “And crawl to me.”

He walked to the bathroom, and without looking back, he added, “By the way, princess, the book is upside down.”

I slammed the hardcover shut, my skin blazing with embarrassment.

God, he was insufferable. A gentleman wouldn’t point something like that out, but Rhys Larsen was no gentleman.

“You’re a fucking queen, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Including yourself.”

“By the way, princess, the book is upside down.”

She can never be his...but he's taking her anyway.