In love with my bodyguard

*Tessa*

"Get me out of here right now!" I shout at the top of my voice for the umpteenth time, but the driver doesn't even give me a second look. I might as well be a soothing song playing in the background.

And for some reason, I do not doubt his threat to throw me out of the jeep. We move past a jeep, and he looks at me from the rear view mirror, as if reminding me his words are still alive. 

"Whatever." Giving up, I huff and throw my back into the leather seat, thinking of all the possible means of escape. "My brother is going to find me, just in case you think you can get away with this. And when he does, he is going to break every single finger in one hand. You are going to wish you had never met me."

"Do you always talk this much?" he questions suddenly, his forearm gleaming under the night lights as he makes a turn.

I swallow from the look, suddenly feeling parched. It seems like the temperature in the car has been turned off a notch. 

"Do you always pick up little girls in the middle of nowhere?" I throw back, pulling my gaze off his damn arm. He is going to be a dead man soon, once Marcus finds him.

Silence settles in the car for five minutes, and then, his voice pierces through it again. 

"In fact, I do."  

I frown, trying to understand what he means by that, realizing he is answering the question I asked over five minutes ago. Our eyes meet in the mirror for a slow second before he pulls back his gaze to the road. 

"Your dress..."

"What about it?"  I snap at him, hating this situation. "Or are you now a fashion cop too?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Never mind."

I go back to my thoughts, looking outside the windows. 

 I cannot die like this. Not with the list of all the things I hope to achieve glued to the wall in my bedroom. And Marcus. He might be too protective of me, but I know he loves me.

He is sure going to cry when he hears about my death. There's Marin, too.

Gosh. I am the only friend she has in college. 

I am not sure if Wes is going to cry, though. A few weeks ago, I had a fight with him about staring at the ass of another girl. He said he was just looking, and that got me even madder. Maybe he will think it is a good riddance. 

The jeep suddenly comes to a halt, and I look out the window just as the man steps out from behind the wheel. My eyes widen in surprise when I see that I am back at home, the red lights pouring from the grand porch.

The stranger doesn't hesitate to pull the door open and lift me over his shoulders again, stalking in the direction of the entrance. 

"I have working legs, you know?" I blurt, not expecting a response. 

"I also know how well you tend to use them," he shoots back. His voice stands out in the night, piercing through the quiet. "Be still. We will be in really soon."

"Who are you to tell me what to do and what not to do?"

"You will find out soon."

Our living room comes into focus, and he places me back on my feet gingerly in the centre of the living room. The stranger is twice my size, easily towering over me. His eyes filter through my features, and suddenly, I feel a strange heat overtake every inch of my body.

His gaze comes to rest on my chest, and I follow his gaze. A loud gasp escapes my lips, and my eyes fall wide open when I see what he is staring at. 

"Fucking pervert!"  I scream, dashing for one of the throw pillows on the couch and putting it protectively over my chest. My little dress is made of silk with a plunge in the neckline. With all the carrying around, it must have shifted out of place at some point in the night. 

I remember when he mentioned something about my dress in the car, and I don't think my eyes can get any wider.

"It has been like this for more than fifteen minutes, and you didn't think to say anything?"'

He shrugs with a cocky expression. "I tried to say something. You really need to work on your ability to listen more than talk. It will do you a lot of good."

I feel myself losing it. "You are just a fucking psycho!" I yell, pointing a finger at him. "If I find out that you took any weird pictures of me, I am fucking suing you in court."

He seems amused by my expression, staring down at me like I am some cheerleader. 

"Arghhhh!" I turn around to head into my room when Marcus strides in from the hallway, making me halt in my steps. 

"I heard yelling in the hallway," he mutters, looking from me to him.

"That has to be all her," the stranger replies, still with that bloody amusement laced in his tone. "For someone as small as her, she sure sounds like she swallowed a speaker."

"Careful," my brother warns with a small laugh splayed on his face. He walks past me and pats the stranger on the shoulders. I see him flinch, but it is gone so fast that I might as well have imagined it. "Tessa can be really touchy when anyone calls her little." 

I whip my head around. "Marcus, who is this brute and what is he doing in our house?"

"Well," my brother plops down on the lounge couch and crosses one leg over the other. "This brute is your new bodyguard, Knox Pierce, and he is going to be here a while, so I advise you to get along.'

"What? No! No! No! No! This cannot be....No!"

"Tessa, you said you didn't like walking around with ten bodyguards. I got you one. It is not up for discussion. And you should be grateful I am not keeping you grounded after the stunt you pulled tonight."

I bring my gaze back to Knox, and he winks at me.

The fucker was the one who told my brother. 

"Nice boobies," he mouths, before winking again and walking out of the house.