I don't think I've ever felt so much adrenaline course through my veins. Watching a fucking man assault Ashley—hold a sharp knife blade against her throat, and not knowing if he's bluffing or not—well, I couldn't jump out of the limo fast enough.

The car was still rolling, and my driver was yelling for me to wait, to think about my safety! he said, but how could I? Did he really expect me to just sit back and fucking watch that? What would've happened if that man decided to push that knife into her throat?

No, I can't even think about that. I shake the thought from my mind like a bad dream.

The fact of the matter is that Ashley's life was in danger and I couldn't allow anything bad to happen to her. I refused to be a bystander to that. It's true that the fucking asshole nearly succeeded in stabbing me as well, but I was never worried. One swift punch to his face, and I knew I had him.

"Please promise me that you'll never ditch your security detail again," I say, looking Ashley in the eyes. We're standing in her bathroom, and I notice a cut on her side. It's bleeding through her shirt. That has to be from the mugger. His blade must've nicked her, and she didn't even realize it.

Adrenaline is an amazing thing. With it, you feel almost super human. Pain disappears. Sometimes you even feel invincible—faster than a missile, and stronger than Mr. Universe … stronger than steel.

"I promise," she replies. "And thank you again. You saved my life."

"I'm just glad I found you in time," I say. "I don't even want to think about what could've happened, had I not have shown up. But that's over now … and you're bleeding."

I point to her shirt, and at the bloodstain blooming across the cotton fabric.

"It's nothing," she says, dismissively.

"No, you're losing blood," I reply, concern growing in me. "It's superficial, but definitely bleeding. I want to take you to the hospital."

I can feel my concern turn into anger. I'm angry at the thought of anybody hurting Ashley. I have an overwhelming urge to protect her.

"It's fine," she says, glancing down at the stain. "Besides, we have a good narrative going, don't you think? I think a visit to the hospital will look bad. It'll throw an ugly wrench in our plan, that's for sure."

"I appreciate that you're thinking about me," I say, "but if we're not going to the hospital, I insist that you let me take a look at that cut. Take your shirt off."

She smiles. "I thought you would be the type who liked to undress a girl."

I look at her for a moment and then close the distance between our bodies. I drag one hand softly up her arm, brush against the side of her cheek, and then place it on the nape of her neck, feeling the long, soft waves of her hair.

We hold each other's gaze for a moment, and then I lean into her slowly. Our lips make gentle contract, just grazing that soft, delicate skin.

I detect the hint of a smile on her lips, and then she parts her mouth and I slide my tongue inside of her warmth, basting it against her tongue, as passion mounts.

I move my hand up to the base of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair, and with a pent up lust, I yank her head back, kissing her deeply.

"You are unlike any woman I've ever met before … perfectly delicious," I whisper, pulling my mouth back from hers.

"You're pretty tasty yourself," she grins. "I could kiss you all night."

"You want this?" I tease, giving her a smile.

"Oh yes," she purrs and reaches out to me, slowly dragging her hands up the ridges of my chest.

"First things first," I say, teasingly. "Let's take a look at this cut."

She pouts her lips, but I delicately grab the ends of her shirt and pull it up and over her head. My eyes travel the length of her body, as she stands there, naked from the waist up, with only a bra, and I watch as goose bumps ripple across her skin.

"You're cold," I say, placing my hands on her.

Immediately, the feel of her takes me back to memories of the limo—our kiss, my hand on the inner softness of her thigh, my fingers traveling up her legs until they were inside of her.

Just thinking about this makes my cock twitch, and I can feel it growing hard, pulsing and pushing on my boxer briefs.

But I try to shake it from my mind.

Now's not the time to be getting turned on. I have to stay focused on taking care of Ashley.

"I agree," I say, trying to bring myself back to reality. "The cut isn't serious. But it does need to be cleaned and bandaged. Do you have a first aid kit around here? Maybe just disinfectant and bandages?"

"I do," she replies. "It's just in this cupboard, over here—ouch."

I watch as she tries to lift her arm up above her head, and winces, quickly bringing it back down.

"Just stay still," I urge her, "I'll get it. No need to move."

I rummage through her cupboard until I find the small white box with a red cross. I open it and take out the provisions I need.

I take a bit of antibiotic cream and gently rub it into her cut, and then place a bandage over it. She winces for a moment, and then smiles.

"Thank you doctor," she whispers into my ear. "But you know what I think?"

"What's that?" I smile.

"I think you should kiss me and make me feel better," she purrs.

As she says this I realize that my connection for Ashley is deepening.

Of course, just one look and she turns me on quicker than a light switch, but it's more than that.

I care about this woman. About her safety, her well being.

That trepidation I felt in the beginning is dissolving, and I'm beginning to trust her.

I’m the fucking ruler of the free world. But I’m willing to give up everything for this woman.

What's happening to me?