Chanel

I met Kobe outside the building, and he immediately grabbed my suitcases, tossing them in the trunk. Several men with cameras called my name, snapping pictures. I waved at them before getting into the truck.

To keep things casual, Kobe sat in the passenger seat with his eyes ahead. I couldn’t help stealing glances of him as we drove to the airport. Last night’s little sexcapade was still on my mind.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His body. The way he touched me—demanding, aggressive, but still gentle.

It was a mess trying to get through the crowded airport. I was stopped by several fans and people who recognized me, even beneath my black baseball cap and leather jacket.

I didn’t mind it, but Kobe eventually had to step in and stop me from taking on any more autographs before I ended up being late for my flight.

I boarded the plane, sitting in first class with a glass of wine offered to me right away, sipping it lightly when I got comfortable in my seat. It was about three in the afternoon—probably too early for wine, but I didn’t care. It was five o’clock somewhere. Drinking always settled my nerves during flights anyway.

Kobe sat across from me, scanning me with his warm, heavy brown eyes.

“What?” I laughed.

“Even in sweatpants, you look good enough to eat,” he murmured as the flight attendant walked by. I bit a smile, picking up my glass and taking a small sip.

“Have a drink,” I insisted.

“Not on the job.”

“Alright.” I sighed. “So, I don’t know if Nicole has filled you in, but this shoot is with a man named Marco Iglesias. He’s pretty well-known in the industry and this photo shoot is kind of a make-or-break kind of deal. After that’s wrapped up, we have to get on another flight and go to my dad’s beach home in Beverly Hills for his annual charity event for breast cancer.” I swallowed hard. “It’s how my mom died so I always make sure to attend. It’s in her name. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“The Teresa Gooding Charity. Yeah, I know,” he said.

I straightened in my seat, narrowing my eyes at him. “How do you know about it?”

“I always do research on my clients before taking them on. Let’s me know what I’m getting into with the person and how to handle them when problems arise,” he said confidently.

“You think you know me because you read my Wikipedia page?” I laughed, placing my glass in the cup holder.

“No,” he answered with a smug look on his face. “But I do know that you’ve been modeling since you were a baby. That your favorite color is silver—a weird favorite color, I might add. Your best friend is Skye Jennings and when you sleep, you do this little hum. It’s kinda cute.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Do I talk in my sleep too?”

He smiled. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“I guess we’ll figure that out one day soon.”

He adjusted in his seat when I said that, spine straightening as the pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers. His face changed like something serious had crossed his mind. While the pilot spoke, he ran his tongue over his dry bottom lip and lowered his gaze.

Finally, when the pilot’s voice was gone, Kobe cleared his throat and buckled in. I did the same, giving him a wary glance.

“What just happened here, bodyguard?” I asked, doing my best to sound playful.

His lips pushed together and he scratched the scruff along his jaw before letting out a heavy breath. “I just don’t want you thinking this is anything more than—I just mean.” He shook his head with a huff, swiping a hand over his face.

I felt my eyebrows stitch together.

“Look, Chanel, the last thing I’m looking for right now is something serious. I just don’t want you thinking this will go beyond what it is.”

“Go past being just sex, you mean,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. I failed miserably. It sounded coarse. Frantic.

He just nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. He looked at me, and I felt so pathetic.

“Don’t worry. I’m not looking for anything serious right now either. Not like the world should know about us anyway,” I replied.

I don’t know why I said the last sentence. It was kind of harsh. But I didn’t want him thinking I cared more than I did. But the reality was I did. And I couldn’t understand why him telling me how he felt bothered me so much.

I knew this.

I fucking knew this.

He couldn’t be more.

Last night had me feeling so many different things for him. Enamored. Lustful. Craving everything from him. All of it blurred the lines.

At the end of the day, he was my bodyguard. And my father was paying this man to protect me. Not to fuck me. Not to care about me. Just to watch over me.

“Don’t take it personally,” he said, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s not you. It’s just…this whole situation we’re in, and how quickly it happened. And my past always interferes…makes me think twice.” When he said that, the skin on his forehead crumpled.

“What happened in your past?” I asked.

He avoided my eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

He kept his gaze outside the window. The plane started moving and my mouth sealed shut as I looked out of my window too.

I was frustrated and slightly offended.

But I wasn’t going to tell him that.

He was right. It couldn’t be more than what it was.

Just sex.