More, she’s the first person I’ve shared a sleeping space with in many years. Normally, on the rare occasions I do bump uglies, I’m out of there as soon as the bumping is done. This time, I wanted to stay, and what’s more I slept for hours, which is rare.

I swear to myself, no more screwing. We will go back to client and protection. I’ll guard her, and when my work here is done, I’ll do this right. Until then, we aren’t touching each other. She’ll understand. I’m sure of it.

* * *

Three days later, and I’m sitting in the same space in the living room, at ten am in the morning, wondering how the hell I got into this damn mess. My no-more-fucking rule of three days ago lasted all of a few hours. I went upstairs to wake her up, and give her coffee in bed, and one thing led to another.

It keeps happening.

Days of it.

Sex.

Dirty, sweaty, hot sex.

I don’t want to stop. I’m not sure I can.

I ought to. I really should. I’m getting in too deep, and I think she is too.

“Hey.”

Carolina’s silky voice reaches me from the doorway. I turn to her, and my heart lurches. She’s wearing one of my button-downs, and it looks incredible on her.

“Come here,” I say as I crook my finger.

She smiles and walks over to me. Her hair is fluffier than usual, and she smells of coconut. She’s obviously had a shower and washed and dried her hair but hasn’t styled it yet. Her face is devoid of makeup, and I take a good, long look.

This is Carolina stripped down and at her most vulnerable.

Her skin is amazingly flawless, and her bone structure is exquisite. Not many women can look this good without a little cosmetic help.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.

“No, I’m not.” Her reply is immediate. As if she’s used to saying it in response to compliments. What the hell?

“You absolutely are.”

“No.” She shakes her head and smiles at me. “It’s okay,” she says. “I don’t mind. I know Mummy is the beautiful one, and my brother. You should see him. He breaks hearts wherever he goes. I’m the smart one.”

My scowl must make her pause because she brushes her hand over my brow, smoothing.

“I’m not saying I’m hideous.” She laughs. “I know I’m not gorgeous in the way a lot of my family are. I’ve been called a handsome woman enough times to know the truth. When the papers write about you as a handsome woman, and the daughter of a great beauty and world-famous supermodel, you get the hint.”