Protected by the Billionaire Ex-SEAL: A Forced Proximity, Bodyguard Romance (Small Town Billionaires

1. Christian

Iglance at the name lighting up the long bar where the drinks are displayed and the bartender is already hard at work. “Nashville Dream,” it says. It’s a nice bar and an impressive collection of drinks, but I don’t care what kind of bar I’m in because the goal is the same: to unwind the shit out of tonight after a long, tiring day.

“A beer, please. Extra cold. And a plate of whatever’s the special tonight.”

The bartender nods and rings up my order, beer first. I take a grateful sip, then think over the things I’ve accomplished in the limited hours I’ve been given. Taken a last-minute flight from Coronado to Nashville right after I just returned from London? Check.

Visited my sister and best friend—who are married now—and their kids after I missed out on the last two visits? Check.

Made a lot of calls to the right people so I could start looking for a piece of land here to expand my protection agency business? Check.

More calls to my broker about my old and new investments? Check.

Between all of that, I feel like I’ve gone back to my overachieving life and I don’t want to return to that—not when it made me miss out on a lot of moments in the past. So, the bar it is.

“You look like a tall glass of water. Would you mind terribly if I quenched my thirst with you?”

I choke on my sip, then meet the bartender’s eye as he passes by me. There’s amusement there for a second before he shuts it down, and I can imagine he’s witnessed this scenario too many times to count.

I glance out of the corner of my eye, noting the cute woman and the impeccably dressed man who’s eagerly trying to lean into her space. I don’t hear what she’s saying, but whatever it is, he lights up.

“I bet you that we’ll be having sex by the end of the night.”

Shit. The man’s got game, though I don’t think it’s the kind of game we all want to have. I bite back a laugh, but it dies when a plate is placed in front of me.

“What is this?”

The bartender shrugs. “House special. The chef was feeling adventurous.”

That’s an understatement. I stare at my salad with seafood and the weirdest-smelling cheese. Then I shrug, take the plate, and leave my stool, deciding that I’d rather sit at a corner table than listen to more of Mr. Rizz?—

Bang! Goes my plate before it falls to the ground, along with my beer. But it’s not the only casualty. There’s also the plate the other party is holding, then her red drink that’s now splattered all over her shirt.

My hands reach forward on instinct because I’m a huge guy and she’s just a bit on the tiny side. To my surprise, she holds her balance and doesn’t topple over.

But yeah, red splatter on the shirt. It’s a sparkly shirt, too.

“Shit. I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I was…” Eavesdropping on some one-liners. “I’ll pay for the shirt. And let me get you another drink.”

I expect her to rant at me for getting her all wet and dirty, as most women would. Hell, even some men. But she just raises a brow. “You should work on your pickup lines. That guy’s got you beat.”

Surprise has me staring at her, speechless, before I realize she’s no longer in front of me. I snap out of it and follow her back to the long bar, where she’s sitting, hailing for another bartender’s attention.

“Seriously, that sparkly shirt must be worth a fortune. Let me pay for it.”

“Actually, it’s a souvenir shirt and pretty cheap. So, no biggie.”

She shrugs, drawing my attention to her elegant shoulders and smooth, tanned skin. She has a smooth neck, too, and her head is gracefully swaying to the distant music’s beat.

“How about the drink, then? And the other thing you dropped?”

“Are you sure you want to replace all of them?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I study her briefly. Her hair’s blonde and soft-looking, curly at the parts that aren’t tied in a braid, and her legs, encased in a denim skirt, are already proving to be a distraction. But it’s her amber eyes brightening at my confirmation that snag my attention the most.

“Okay, then…ma’am, I’ll have a cranberry cocktail, a cheeseburger, fries, and extra bacon on the burger, please.”

“Make that two, please. But a beer instead of a cocktail for me.” I nod at the female bartender, who nods back and walks away.

“Now that you mention it, a beer sounds nice.”

“You got it. I’m Christian, by the way. Thirty-three years old. Ex-military. I retired last year. I own a business in California.” At her eyebrow raise, I shrug. “In case you’re uncomfortable with strangers.”

“Oh.” She pauses, then nods, accepting my explanation. “So, you’re here for business?”

“Pretty much. You?”

She mulls over it for maybe two seconds before she clears her throat. “Raven. Teacher. I’m thirty. Kind of here for business, too.”

“Your eyes are as blue as the deepest, bluest ocean. I could sink into them.”

Our gazes meet as Mr. Rizz goes at it again, still wooing the same woman. A twinkle enters Raven’s eyes, and I read it as a signal that it’s okay to sidle closer so I can lower my voice.

“I would use the same pickup line, but your eyes aren’t blue.”

Her lips quirk, and my gaze is drawn there.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. They’re amber. I can’t tell if they’re leaning more on copper or gold, and I don’t want to be a pervert who stares at them too much.”

“Actually, nobody really notices my eyes. They’re too busy staring at my…” She smiles flirtatiously.

Goddamn. If this is flirting, this is the kind of flirting I’m on board with.

“You have green eyes. Like the forest. They’re really deep and striking. I bet all the women tell you that,” she continues.

“Your lips are so full. I just want to bite into them,” Mr. Rizz says.

My eyes widen. So do hers, then her mouth thins in an effort not to laugh. But her shoulders are already shaking, so I sit up straighter, blocking her from the view of others, and let her lean her head against my shoulder.

It’s light contact, but the electric charge that thrums through me feels pleasant. Addictive. When she pulls back and looks up at me, her face is inches from mine.

“I noticed your eyes,” I whisper, looking down at her. All it would take is for me to tip my head forward to catch her lips. “But your lips…”

I flick my eyes down at them, and she bites her bottom lip softly in reaction. I nearly groan before realizing we’re still in a very public place.

I lean back a bit and grin. “I like that you noticed my eyes first.”

“What makes you think I didn’t notice your body first?”

I raise my brows in mock offense. “Preposterous. When I have these deep, striking eyes?”

“But also the body of a?—”

“Your body’s sculpted by the gods. Every inch is just so soft, decadent, and beautiful,” the man at the bar continues.

Her mouth drops open, but it’s me who’s fighting back a laugh this time. When I’m about to snap, she reaches for my hand and squeezes it to steady me.

I give her a challenging look.

“I dare you to top that.”

She leans in, her mouth brushing my ear. “Your body…is going to feel amazing on top of mine.”

Just like that, all amusement flees as a bolt of pure lust shoots through me. My cock stirs while the rest of my body is charged with sudden electricity. I become aware of her smell, soft and delicious, and her warmth…soft and delicious.

The bartender comes back with our food, but my eyes remain locked on hers.

“Is that your favorite position? Under me?”

Her amber eyes darken, turning into copper. She shakes her head.

“No.”

“Then what?”

Her lips part. I want to press mine against them, letting the kiss burn away all the suppressed heat.

“I like to be on top.”

“Riding?” I lick my lips, imagining her riding me, those eyes blurring with pleasure.

“Yeah.”

Fuck.

“Grinding against my cock?”

She smirks, and it’s the sexiest thing. She tilts her head, challenging me back. “What about you? What’s your favorite position?”

“Anything.”

“Impossible. You need to be specific.”

“Fine. Any position that’ll have you screaming my name.”

Her mouth drops open, her tongue peeking out. Her eyes flare—the same glimmer of lust that I felt—before she schools her expression. But it’s too late.

“That’s a tall order, Christian.”

It’s the first time she’s said my name and I already like the sound of it in her mouth. Unbidden, an image of her saying it over and over while I’m driving inside her grabs me in a chokehold and sends me careening into a blinding need.

“Bet on it?”

She blinks at my question then mulls it over.

I used to have a lot of one-night stands back in my younger days when the hormones were raging and I wanted to try everything out before settling down. Not uncommon for young Navy SEALs.

Then after leaving the Navy, my business became my priority and settling down was put on the backburner. They’re less common now but still happen when I need to slake that physical need, but it’s always been friendly and never amounts to anything other than a mutual orgasm.

But this…there’s a connection, one that’s unmistakable, and I know that we’ll end up having a great time.

And Raven’s whisper seals the deal.

“I like bets.”

I turn my head, brushing my mouth against her earlobe.

I feel her soft intake of breath.

“Then I bet that I’ll be inside you by the end of the night.”