your new bodyguard had to be at least six foot four, maybe even six-five, with solid, sculpted muscle packed onto every inch of his powerful frame. longish black hair grazed his collar and fell over one gunmetal-gray eye, and his legs were so long he ate up the distance between you both in three strides.

for someone so large, he moved with surprising stealth. if you hadn’t been looking at him, you wouldn’t have noticed him approaching.

he stopped in front of you, and you swore your body tilted forward a centimeter, unable to resist his gravitational pull. you were also strangely tempted to run your hand through his thick dark locks. most veterans kept their hair military-style short even after leaving the service, but clearly, he wasn’t one of them.

“rhys larsen.” his deep, gravelly voice rolled over you like a velvety caress. now that he was closer, you spotted a thin scar slashing through his left eyebrow, adding a hint of menace to his dark good looks. stubble darkened his jaw, and a hint of a tattoo peeked out from both sleeves of his shirt.

he was the opposite of the preppy, clean-shaven types you usually went for, but that didn’t stop a swarm of butterflies from taking flight in your stomach.

you were so flustered by his appearance, you forgot to respond until he cleared his throat softly.