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.”

But even though I was still upset with Rhys for leaving in the first place, I realized something. The empty, gnawing feeling had disappeared.

I let out a soft laugh. “When have things ever been easy for us?”

“It is simple.” Rhys spoke with such quiet confidence it resonated in my bones. “I made a mistake when I left, and I’m fixing it.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

I’d tried and failed to name the empty, gnawing feeling that’d haunted me since Rhys left. The one that crept up on me when I lay in bed at night and tried to think of something I looked forward to the next day. The one that washed through me at the oddest moments, like when I was in the middle of an event or pretending to laugh along with everyone else.

Now, I had a name for it.

Loneliness.

“I came back because I wanted to come back,” Rhys said. “And…” He paused, like he was debating whether to say what he was about to say. “I didn’t want you to be alone while you’re dealing with all this shit.” He gestured toward our lavish surroundings.

Alone.

It was the second time he’d said it. First on my graduation night, and now. He was right both times.

I curled my hands into loose fists, resisting the urge to run them over the short black hairs on his cheek and the scar on his eyebrow. Just so I could reassure myself he was actually there.

Angry and infuriating, but there.

“Why are you here, Mr. Larsen? You were perfectly happy to walk away when I asked you to stay.”

“If you think I was anything close to happy these past six weeks,” he said grimly, “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“You were happy enough to stay away for that long.” I tried and failed to hide the note of hurt in my voice.

Rhys’s face softened a smidge. “Trust me, princess. If I had a choice, I would’ve been back far sooner than that.”

Rhys moved in closer, and I struggled to focus when I was so consumed by him. By his scent, his breath on my skin. By memories of lingering looks and stolen laughs and sunsets in a pool halfway across the world.