The Bodyguard

Before you begin reading, be aware that there is more build up and tension than sex.

A special thank you to my beta readers. Your input was very much appreciated.

As usual, comments are welcome so I can see what works and where I can improve in my writing (bearing in mind that I'm a British writer so there may naturally be anomalies). Thank you in advance and I hope you enjoy the ride.

~*~*~

The estate lay silent. Darkness shrouded the Manor House, save for a soft glow of a table lamp in the first-floor hallway. Beside the lamp sat a chair, in which Logan Hunt took guard.

Several people currently occupied the house, though only two on this floor, in this wing, including Logan himself. All except one were part of Logan's security team. Most would likely be asleep at this hour. Only the faint old-house creaking kept him company.

Night shifts were difficult for most. He knew it was common for the Watcher to be lulled into napping but that wasn't his style. He'd been doing this job long enough to know better. His team shared this shift. This would be the last of his for a few days and he'd be back to daytime hours. One more night, he sighed inwardly as he refocused on the book in his hand.

A brief, sharp noise sliced through Logan's ease. Instincts kicked in. His breath held and spine stiffened. His feet pushed into the wool carpet as his fingers strangled the book. Dropping his eyes, he focussed on listening. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, ready to kick him into action.

The cold, scraping noise repeated. His gaze darted to the silhouette of a tree waving at him at the end of the hallway, tapping at the glass windowpane. The wind was picking up.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied, soothing himself at the false alarm. His fingers loosened the crumpled pages. He hated to admit that this job was beginning to wear him down. He and his team had been here, hiding in the English countryside, for nearly six weeks now, and not one hint of danger had presented itself. And whilst that was good news for his client, it created a bigger challenge for his team to keep focussed all the time.

Logan recalled the initial interview for this job. He'd known back then that this would be difficult. Mr Forde, a hedge fund manager from London, had received a threat of the kidnapping of his grown children. He'd decided it was best to split his son and daughter and chose two separate services. Logan had been assigned the youngest of the siblings, the daughter, Rebecca. He had no information about the son or his whereabouts and expected the vice versa.

Mr Forde had been evasive about any of the details of the threat, but his urgency had been true. That had been clear by the obscene amount of money he'd offered, which raised a curiosity to what Mr Forde had done to instigate the threats.

Logan had quickly dismissed those wonderings. It wasn't any of his business and those kinds of details just muddied his waters. His focus was to locate Miss Forde, transport her to a designated safe house, and protect her for an initial eight-week period, or until the matter was resolved.

Locating Miss Forde had been ridiculously easy through a simple search of social media. Getting her to come to this place, though, had been a little more difficult. At age 26, she hadn't wanted to disappear. She didn't want to be cut off from her friends, her life. But neither was she the entitled brat that she'd been painted to be by her father. After a calm, reasoned discussion, Rebecca had nodded quietly and joined him in the helicopter, where she surrendered her phone and smartwatch.

And now they'd all been living Groundhog Day with no indication that it would change soon.

The branch tapped harder. Logan made a mental note to get the foliage trimmed away from the house. Giving a sigh, he tried to return to his book. Before he could read the first word, Rebecca cried out from behind her door.

Dropping the book, he moved fast. Heart thundering, he entered the bedroom, hand on his gun in its holster. Scanning the room, all looked fine except for Rebecca, who sat upright, looking lost in the middle of the ornate bed. Gasping, her hand held her chest as her wide eyes darted, unsettled.

"Miss Forde?"

"L...Logan, I don't know what...I think something hit the window, I don't know, I was asleep."

Logan strode to the window and pushed the heavy curtain to peek out. No foliage grew nearby. His hand shifted from his gun to his radio, and he pressed the red button for five seconds then twice short; the agreed code to react immediately. His night team would be scrambling now to their allocated posts to investigate.

From this position, he saw nothing of concern outside. The expanse of lawn exposed no-one. Though there were always places to hide, not least in the shrubs that framed the large, manicured patch of grass. He trusted the perimeter alarms they'd set, but he knew nothing was infallible.

"My team are on it, it's ok, Miss Forde, you can go back to sleep."

"Logan."

Rebecca's voice shook, and it stopped him in his tracks. It always did. She was his one and only priority.

"Yes?"

He tried not to look at her. When he'd first entered, his sub-conscious had registered the fact that she was wearing a thin t-shirt that clung to her breasts. Now the threat wasn't imminent, he couldn't stop his brain from trying to bring up this image.

"Nothing," she whispered.

Logan paused at the strained response. The urge to look at her tore at him. Instead, he managed to nod and step out.

As the door closed, he let out the breath he'd held. As usual, guilt quickly kicked in. He was a professional through and through. He always had been. He'd never, ever had a problem with being distracted by any charge. Until now. Until Rebecca.

Refusing to think about it, Logan seized his radio and checked in with his staff. All was clear. Maybe it had just been a bad dream. As a fail-safe, he ordered a skeleton team to stand guard for the rest of the night across the mansion until they could check everything in daylight.

Returning to his chair, he picked up the book he'd thrown down. He listened to the faint sound of Rebecca using her ensuite and moving around her room until it fell silent again. The words on the page refused to be understood as he read and re-read the same passage until he gave up.

Frustration bit at him. The need to move began to feel almost claustrophobic. He ached for a long, hard run outside in the cold air. Setting his book down, he quietly walked to the window. Dawn was breaking behind the trees. Less than three more hours and he'd be free to let off steam.

Behind him, a door clicked. Logan spun to see Rebecca standing in her doorway. A silky wrap covered her from neck to knee. Her long, curly hair had been tamed from the previous startled tousle.

"I couldn't sleep again. I'm going to the kitchen for a drink."

Rebecca spoke quietly, as though there were others sleeping on this floor. Logan nodded and followed, keeping his eyes on her bare feet. Not her smooth calves. Not the roundness of her backside underneath the silk. He wasn't a foot man at all, and he refused to acknowledge that this was another thing that Rebecca could somehow change.

As they moved through the house, Logan radioed the team. At the kitchen, he slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar while Rebecca poured a glass of orange juice.

"Do you want some?"

"No, thanks."

Rebecca rolled her eyes as if unsurprised. Gulping down the glass, she poured another then headed toward the living room. Logan followed.

"You don't have to stay with me, I'm fine."

"It's my duty, Miss Forde, at least until 6am."

"It's Rebecca, or Bex."

Logan remained quiet. Rebecca had offered the use of her name at least once a week since the beginning despite Logan stressing that he preferred to keep to his professional courtesies.

Knowing he wasn't going to respond, Rebecca shook her head as she collapsed on the large white leather sofa. Logan hovered at the door. She swiped the TV remote and found a rerun of an old sitcom.

Minutes ticked by as canned laughter filled the void. Shifting position, she swung her legs onto the sofa and stretched out. The wrap shifted, riding up to her curvy thighs. The neckline parted, hinting at the cleavage of her full breasts. Rebecca twisted and realigned the silk to ensure decent coverage.

Logan remained stone faced, determined not to watch her. Instead, he focused on scanning every inch of the room. He counted how many windowpanes there were. He feigned interest in how the interior decorator created the wainscoting on the ceiling. And still, the desire to look at Rebecca burned in his chest as every second passed.

"Boss?"

A male voice from behind almost made him jump from guilt. Just thinking about not thinking about Rebecca was stepping over a line.

"What is it, Si?"

"Dawn checks are complete. We've not found anything that causes suspicion."

Logan nodded his dismissal and Simon began to retreat.

"Actually," Logan turned to face his colleague as his voice dropped, "do you have any specific duty to complete in the next hour?"

"No, not for another two hours now. Today is expected to be quiet, as usual. Tommy is testing the perimeter alarms and we'll be completing the checks every two, not four hours today. Do you need something?"

Logan glanced towards the sofa, avoiding looking directly at Rebecca. He rarely changed details, but he convinced himself it was acceptable. He was too distracted here, anyway.

"Can you swap with me, there's two hours to go."

"Sure thing, Boss."

Simon nodded, frowning. Logan patted him on the shoulder as thanks and walked away.

Once changed into his running gear, with the addition of his firearm and radio, Logan found Tommy and informed him that he'd run around the estate perimeters on a physical check. Physical checks were normally only procedure if there was a problem in the remote checking. But Tommy didn't question his boss's decision. After all, this had been the first alarm raised since day one.

Outside, he breathed in the damp morning air. As his feet crunched on the gravel, his tensions began to drain away. Focusing only on the sights and sounds around him, Logan ran.

~*~*~

Rebecca's eyes began to close to the drone of TV voices. The world warped as she drifted in and out of sleep. The desire to be back in bed, where it was more comfortable, wasn't enough to fight the immediate need to rest.

By the time she opened her eyes again, daylight had hit the room in full glory. Throwing her arm over her face, she groaned. The TV still ran though someone had muted it. With effort, Rebecca pushed herself up to sit. She was alone.

Taking her glass back to the kitchen, she found Simon loading the coffee machine.

"Hi, Simon, I must've fallen asleep."

"Good morning, Miss Forde. I considered waking you but thought it best to leave you be, especially since you've had a bad night."

"It's Bex, Simon. And thank you."

"Sorry, Bex, it's habit. How are you feeling?"

"Like I slept on the sofa," she smiled, "I'm sure I'll feel better after a shower and some stretching. Are you on duty today?"

"We all are today. After your scare in the night, we're just double-checking everything."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think it must've just been a bad dream."

"No need to apologise. The Boss would rather be safe than sorry. We all would."

"Whereis Logan?"

"He went to check the perimeter, though he should be back soon. Do you need him?"

"I'll catch him later. Shower first. Thanks, Simon."

Back in her room, Rebecca opened her curtains wide. Looking out over the landscape, she watched for movement. Although she wasn't allowed to explore the full grounds, she knew that tall brick walls enclosed the large estate, heavily fortified by woodland. Below her window lay the patio and lawn. On the opposite side of the lawn boasted a fountain and formal gardens. All remained still. She reasoned with herself that it would've been unlikely to see Logan anyway.

As she stood at the window, she slipped off the silky robe and threw it on the bed. On impulse, Rebecca opened the large window and leaned out, breathing in the fresh air.

It had taken her a while to get used to being in such a quiet location. Her life was usually filled with people, in bustling cities or partying beach houses. She was surprised how the greenery helped soothe her to an extent.

However, she couldn't deny that her sleep was getting worse. From the moment Logan had appeared in her life, Rebecca's anxiety had been simmering under the surface. Her daily mantra of'this is not forever; this is a short moment in your long life' wasn't working now. Today was the 40th day. 40 days of feeling increasingly trapped. 40 days of feeling alone.

As she scanned the treeline, Rebecca couldn't help thinking of the one silver lining: Logan. 40 days of knowing Logan. Not that she knew him in the least. In fact, the only thing she knew for certain was his name. His age was difficult to guess. He looked like maybe he was late thirties, but his position as 'Boss' suggested otherwise. Rebecca had settled on early forties.

She thought that being that much older should deter her from impure thoughts. Although she had never consciously decided an age limit, all her previous boyfriends and dates had been younger than 30. Yet it didn't. It felt irrelevant.

The morning he'd barged into her life, Rebecca had been in the middle of lunch with her oldest friend, Tess. She'd noticed him enter the restaurant. It was impossible to not have noticed him. His tall frame carried an effortless authority. She'd watched him scan the room, curious as to what or who he was looking for. When his dark eyes had fixed on her, she'd lost track of what her friend was saying. He approached, never breaking eye contact. His broad shoulders had filled her vision and by the time he'd reached their table, Rebecca had been seized by a nervous excitement.

Disappointed with the news he carried, Rebecca had reluctantly agreed to leave with him. From the moment she'd been old enough to understand the wealth she was born into; she'd half expected this kind of event. And in more recent years, she suspected her father wasn't the straightforward businessman he portrayed. Not that she knew anything; it was just a feeling. They'd never been close, and she figured it was because she wasn't a boy. He'd never understood her.

And now here she was, 40 days later. Life still on pause, and her knowing no more about Logan than she did on day one. But with each passing day, fantasies about him grew stronger in her mind.

Not that he knew she existed beyond being another client. He barely looked at her in general and his continuous ignorant calling her Miss Forde proved it. She'd tried to engage him, to appeal to his more human side. If he could just call her by her first name, then she'd believe he gave a crap about the woman she was behind her father's payroll. Instead, she remained whatever number file on his long list of successful jobs.

Taking another deep breath, Rebecca stepped away from the window and headed to the shower.

Under the spray, her hands smoothed her curls then slipped over her shoulders. Rolling her neck, she continued to feel her way over her breasts. The palms of her hands grazed over her proud nipples. Electricity raced through her veins. Her breath caught.

Unable to stop herself, her fingertips seized her dark pink nipples and pulled, causing her to cry out. Hot pulsing need flared between her legs. God, she missed being filled. One hand remained at her weighty breast whilst the other slid down her wet abdomen and cupped her trimmed pussy.

Pushing her palm against herself, Rebecca ground her hips, teasing herself. Her fingers squeezed harder on both her pussy and her tits. She could feel her juices begin to flow as her clit throbbed. She let her middle finger slide between her pussy lips. Flicking at her cunt, she touched her clit and whimpered. Her body jerked with the intensity, making her want more.

The water continued to cascade over her skin as she pushed more fingers between her labia. The water gathered and splashed in her moving hand as she frigged her cunt faster. Sometimes her fingertips hit her clit, causing her to yelp, whilst other times she pushed her fingers deeper inside her cunt, fucking herself.

Her mind filled with images of Logan. Despite her frustrations at him for not seeing her, she couldn't deny the intense sexual attraction she felt for him. Shrugging it off as cliched power play, she allowed herself to indulge her secret fantasies.

And so, she conjured him. Naked and hard. Joining her in the shower. His watching her as she fingered herself. His hand wrapping around his hard cock and wanking as they watched each other.

Rebecca moaned louder from both desire and frustration. Her fingers zoned in on her clit. She needed to cum. Her wet fingers slipped either side of her clit, rubbing until she could take it no longer and then pressed hard on her swollen bud. Her hips thrust harder as she panted.

With a final tug on her nipple while her fingers rubbed hard at her clit, Rebecca's body shuddered as her orgasm exploded. Groaning with relief, she revelled in the sensation of her pussy pulsating, coating her fingers in her cum.

Once the fire died down in her veins, she straightened up and finished washing, making a mental note to ask for more shampoo before she ran out. A mischievous thought made her chuckle as she wondered how Logan would react if she dared ask for a vibrator.

By the time she was dried and dressed, Rebecca felt the emptiness return. Even masturbating wasn't making much of a difference now. With a sigh, she left her room in search of breakfast.

~*~*~

Logan felt better. The run had been exactly what he needed. Plus, it'd given extra satisfaction in his job.

Approaching the treeline to the lawn, he noticed his lace had come loose and crouched to fasten it. As he stood, he saw movement at the house. A window swung open. Logan kept still under the thick tree canopy as he watched Rebecca lean out. She'd removed the silk wrap and now he could clearly see that damned t-shirt clinging to her curves. One shoulder had slipped low, exposing a lot of creamy skin. Her full breasts pushed against the material. If he were closer, perhaps he would have been able to see her nipples. His cock hardened at the thought.

He considered stepping onto the lawn. His feet wouldn't move. She didn't look at him, she didn't know he was here. No-one knew he was here, watching her. For this moment in time, he let himself drink her in.

He'd been tough on himself from the moment he'd laid eyes on her in that restaurant. Compiling a profile on his charges was standard practice. And profiles always contained photos, so he knew exactly who she was. And yet he hadn't expected to feel like he'd been punched in the stomach when he'd actually met her. His reaction had shocked him, and he'd been fighting an internal battle not to fuck this up ever since.

His reputation in this business had been hard earned since the tender age of eighteen. Now, at thirty-nine years old, he'd broken many barriers and limiting expectations. However, his success had come at a price. He rarely had time for relationships, and there was always some younger punk ready to challenge his skills.

Yet here he was, leading one of the most prominent security services for the wealthy. And he'd cultivated a team of highly skilled people who shared his professional ethos. A goddamned crush on a rich daughter wasn't about to spoil that now.

Still, he couldn't move. She looked perfect. Relief washed over him when she moved away from the window. He waited another moment in case she returned. When she didn't, he made his way back to his room.