Chapter Seven

Holy fucking hotness.

If she was going to be violently murdered by a hitman, might as well be an insanely sexy one.

Gulp.

She was not always this frisky. Must be the whiskey, she mused. Either way. Kim was glad the air conditioner had come back on with the return of the electricity. Otherwise, she’d have melted in a little puddle of female goo at the huge man’s booted feet.

If this guy was there to kill her, at least she’d have a good view while she died. But apparently, he was there to protect her.

Was that like protect and serve? She wanted to ask him, but was too tongue-tied to do so.

Thank fuck.

Last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself. Again. Kimberley was not exactly smooth when it came to talking to hot boys.

“Did you say Wessex?”

“Yes,” he answered in a wonderfully deep baritone she found particularly enticing.

“As in Jasper Wessex?” she asked again, and her heart plummeted when he nodded.

Sigh.