Protected By Him (Nashville Security #3)

Chapter 1

Ian

One year ago - June

“Have you always been this fucking stupid, or have you had to work for it?”

I’m barely a foot inside the door when that sweet voice hits my ear.

A smile pulls at my lips as I pivot toward the bar.

Most wouldn’t find that sweet, but I’m not most people.

I take in the woman attached to the voice.

She has shoulder-length blonde hair and glasses.

Since she’s sitting on a barstool, I can’t quite tell how tall she is, but she appears to be short.

What gets my attention more than her height is her body.

My jaw clenches when my eyes sweep down.

Her tits are amazing. Full. Lucious. Perfection.

I can only see a hint of her curvy hips, and what I can only assume are thick thighs and an ass to match.

At least that’s what my imagination is telling me. My gaze shifts to the man next to her.

There’s no way this asshat is this goddess’s boyfriend.

At least I hope not.

I step back to observe the two before deciding on my next move.

The man is facing away from me, a glass of beer suspended in the air as he shakes his head in what I can only assume is annoyance.

The woman glares at him, her grip tight on the beer sitting in front of her on the bar.

With her turned to the side, I can only make out her profile from my new location.

The man shifts on his barstool and wraps his arm around the back of hers. As he leans closer, she leans back to keep space between them. My fists bunch at my sides at how uncomfortable she looks—some of her earlier spark dimming at the man’s blatant attempt at intimidation.

“Look, you little bitch…”

Okay, that’s all I can take.

Without wasting another second, I stomp over to the couple.

My hand slaps down on the man’s shoulder as my fingers dig into the muscle behind his collarbone.

He cries out as I lean over to speak close to his ear.

My angle puts me even with the woman’s chest. I watch her breasts rise and fall with quick breaths before my eyes find hers.

Behind her large frames, her eyes are wide with surprise and something else I can’t quite decipher.

My gaze doesn’t leave hers when I ask, “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”

The man whimpers as I pull him back to put space between him and the new object of my fascination.

“What the fuck, man? Let me go.”

I begrudgingly release him when I see the bartender eyeing us.

The last thing I want is to be kicked out before I’ve even said a word to the woman now watching me with a curious gaze.

Glancing down at the man, I take a small step back to give him room to follow the command I’m about to make.

“Get the fuck away from her and don’t come back over here or I’ll break your arm. ”

A small gasp escapes the lips I want to become acquainted with sooner rather than later.

When our eyes meet again, I’m worried that I’ll find disgust or anger, but I’m not quite prepared for the small smile lighting up her eyes.

The man wastes no time scurrying away to rejoin his friends near the back of the bar.

Swallowing hard, I pull out the barstool recently vacated by the asshole.

My stomach flutters nervously in a way I’m incredibly unfamiliar with.

While they make me uncomfortable, they also excite me.

It makes me feel that there’s a danger nearby, which is much more my style.

I ignore the fact that it’s caused simply by sitting next to the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

The bartender comes over and gives me a wary look before asking what I want to drink. I order a beer for myself and jut my chin toward the beer bottle sitting on the bar in front of the woman to my right. “Another for her if she wants it as well.”

As the bartender looks at the woman, she gives him a nod and a small smile before turning back to me.

I hold out my hand. “Ian Murray.”

She narrows her eyes briefly at my outstretched hand before taking it gently in hers.

My cock jumps at the contact, and I know I’m a fucking goner.

I can’t say I’m all that sad about it. She gives it one swift shake before providing her name.

When she slips her hand from mine, I fight the urge to pull it back.

“Nice to meet you, Ian. Maggie Smith.”

Maggie.

Cute name for such a spitfire. I love it.

“Maggie. Very nice to meet you.” I wish I could see her more fully than I’m able to in the dim lights of the bar. The need to know every inch of her makes my mind fuzzy.

As the bartender drops off our drinks, I hand him my card and tell him to put anything Maggie had before I got here on my tab.

“You don’t have to do that,” Maggie protests beside me. Her tone tells me the attitude she lost momentarily is back.

I twist in my seat so I can face her. She tucks her hair behind her ear before taking a sip of beer.

“I don’t generally do things I don’t want to.

So let me be a gentleman and pay for the drinks of the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen as a penance for that dickhead.

” Her eyebrows jump at my statement, and I continue.

“That way, I can hopefully remind you that some of us are the good guys.”

She scrunches up her nose. “The most gorgeous? You must not get out much.”

My arm slides along the back of her stool, and I internally celebrate when she leans into me rather than away like she did with the other guy. “I get out plenty.”

Her throat muscles tense around her swallow. “Oh…well, okay.” The low huskiness of her voice turns me on.

I take a sip of my beer and then ask, “So, Maggie, do you come here to yell at random men regularly?”

She sits up straighter, pushing her chest out slightly and drawing my eyes down for the briefest second.

I try to discreetly adjust myself to ease my discomfort.

Mock pride filters into her tone when she responds, “Shockingly, this is my first time here. I just moved to Nashville not too long ago. But I have many years of experience ensuring men know what idiots they are.”

I let out a chuckle as I shake my head. “Good for you. There are plenty who need it. Where did you move from?”

Something that looks like sadness crosses her features. “North Carolina.”

Taking a moment to study her, there’s no doubt that she isn’t being entirely truthful in her response, and while normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about a possible hookup not telling me the truth, it bothers me with her.

I want to know everything. And that freaks me the fuck out.

Not enough to leave, but it freaks me out, regardless.

I focus my gaze straight ahead and take another long drink of beer, debating if this is a terrible idea until her body heat bleeds into my arm.

Turning my head, I find her leaning into me as a friend of the douchebag leers at her from her other side, where he leans over the bar, waiting for his drink.

Instinct takes over, and I wrap my arm around Maggie’s waist to pull her body against mine.

All thoughts of this being a bad idea evaporate, never to be seen again, when her soft curves relax into me.

I steal a moment to inhale her scent—sweet vanilla that makes me want to take a bite.

Digging my fingertips into her, I lift my stare to the man.

Considering the number of people I’ve killed, I know how to give a compelling death stare.

I get great satisfaction from the fear that flashes in his eyes.

He grabs his drink and speed-walks back to his table.

I don’t let her go. And she doesn’t try to move away. Allowing myself one more inhale, I loosen my grip on her. She slowly shifts back, and I’m hoping that means she’s as reluctant to stop touching me as I am her.

When she’s sitting back in her seat, she turns to me with a smirk. “You sure are handy to have around.”

I raise my eyebrows and reply, “I’m a man of many talents.”

She bites her bottom lip, and I grind my teeth. “I have no doubt about that, Ian.”

I clear my throat. Needing to distract myself from the impulses to make this woman mine in ways I don’t want to examine, I ask, “So, uh, did you move here with your boyfriend?”

She shakes her head slowly, knowingly. “Nope. Moved here for work.”

Relief settles in my gut at her answer. Not that I’m happy to admit it, but I probably would’ve tried to convince her she should forget about him if her answer had been different.

It’s Friday night, and I didn’t come out specifically to get laid, but now, I want nothing more than exactly that. But it’s either Maggie or no one.

Downing the rest of my beer, I turn again to look her in the eye. Her gaze stays locked on mine as I cage her in with a hand on the back of her stool and one on the bar. “How many drinks have you had?”

“Two. Why?” She tilts her head, regarding me with a furrowed brow.

I nod. “Good.” I take a deep breath and hope I didn’t misread her interest. “I can’t offer you a lot beyond tonight. Come home with me.”

Without any hesitation, Maggie says, “Kiss me first.”

My jaw muscle tics with tension. “Outside,” I tell her, voice gruff with restraint.

The barstool is loud on the floor as Maggie pushes it back and jumps down. I finally see how short she is—maybe a little over five feet tall, which is perfect for my five-eleven height. Her body is exactly what I imagined—utter perfection.

She pats my bicep as she passes by the back of my seat. “Come on, big boy. Let’s see what you got.”

A laugh rumbles out of me as I rise from the stool and settle my hand on her lower back as I guide her out of the bar.