My Bodyguard Keeps My Secrets And My Underwear – I dug my heel into the back of my bodyguard’s hand, and glowing words started scrolling across my vision. [Go ahead, step harder, you dumb villainess. That’s the most powerful man in Oakridge — CEO of Kensington Enterprises — and he’s going to lock you in a basement for this later!] [Such a waste. The villain’s been secretly in love with her this whole time. One kiss and she’d have his protection — instead she ends up tortured to death by the male lead three years from now.] [He is SO down bad right now. The man literally has her panties in his pocket.] I narrowed my eyes at the man kneeling in front of me. Sure enough, one of his pockets was bulging. Freak.
Disgust curled through me. I went straight for the evidence—reached for the bulge and grabbed. Wait. Why was it… warm? [IS SHE INSANE?! The panties are in the OTHER pocket!] *** Declan Thorne — the man who never so much as flinched at anything — flushed a dark crimson from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “Miss…” His voice came out rough. “Let go.” I snatched my hand back like I’d touched a live wire, my fingers still tingling. I forced my expression neutral and glanced at his other pocket. A flash of pink fabric peeked out from the edge. I’d lost a pair of pink panties that morning. And those comments said he’d break my legs — torture me until there was nothing left. My stomach dropped. I was an only child. My parents took Declan in from the foster system when we were kids to give me a playmate.
From then on, I treated him less like family and more like a personal servant. When I left for college, my dad made him my full-time bodyguard. The rule was simple — if I got so much as a scratch, Declan was the one who paid for it. He’d been cold to me for as long as I could remember. A guy like that didn’t catch feelings. He held grudges. His expression was a mask of ice. One look at him, and all I could think about was the basement those comments had mentioned. “Get up,” I blurted. “Stop kneeling.” Declan’s gaze sharpened. “You’re not going to punish me, Miss?” He kept his head bowed. “I took your car to drive Hazel home without permission. I shouldn’t have done that. I deserve whatever’s coming.” Before I could answer, he placed the whip in my hand — smooth, practiced, like he’d done it a hundred times — and turned around, pulling his shirt over his head.
His back was lean and muscled, crisscrossed with welts. I’d done that two days ago. I’d even rubbed ointment on the wounds afterward, but the marks still hadn’t faded. Guilt flickered through me — and then I remembered. This man was going to lock me in a basement. No way I was touching that whip again. “No. I’m done — I’m never laying a hand on you again.” The angry red welts on his back seemed to glare right back at me, and something tight twisted in my chest. [Whip him!! Why’d she stop?? The villain is literally INTO this.] [Right?? After a whipping, she puts her hands on him and he completely loses it.] [If she kissed him right now, this man would be hers forever.] I stared at the comments, baffled. I’d known Declan my entire life. There was no universe where that man enjoyed being whipped. But when I looked up at him, something flickered across his face. Disappointment.
I hesitated, then beckoned him closer with the curl of my finger. He closed the distance between us without a second’s hesitation, like he’d already decided what was coming. “Closer. Lower your head.” Declan leaned down until his face was level with mine. He closed his eyes, bracing for the blow. Up close, the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones were almost unfair. I held my breath, leaned in, and kissed him. [SHE ACTUALLY DID IT?! He must be freaking out inside!] Declan’s eyes flew open. He stumbled several paces backward. “Miss — how could you —” Revulsion flashed across his face. He turned and bolted from my room like he’d been burned. … So much for “secretly in love.” He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me.