The Model's Bodyguard (Romantic Suspense) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 13 - Of Many Firsts

"You should eat, Mila. I have some soup for you." I said, my voice mellow as I stood over her. She shook her head and if I weren't this observant then I was sure I wouldn't have noticed. She continued looking ahead. "Mila, honey, please." I said softly. She didn't reach out for the bowl. "I'll feed you myself if you don't and I won't leave until at least half of this bowl is gone and in your stomach." Mila turned her eyes toward me for the first time in what felt like hours and the cool baby blue shock of those eyes astonished me for a second. They truly were beautiful. Even with the irritation they clearly wore. Well, I didn't give a damn. She was eating.

I took the chair beside her with my spare hand and placed it in front of her then took a seat. She looked at me with bored eyes that shifted the second she saw me raise the spoon and move it to her pretty mouth. She stared at the spoon for a second, my eyebrow rising at the sight, and it seemed she was either too weak to protest or too gone to care. She opened her mouth and let me feed her. To stay I was surprised at her lack of struggle was an understatement but I was pleased nonetheless, remaining silent just in case she decided to rebel.

Exactly half the bowl later, Mila turned her gaze back to the window, her eyes a glossy abyss, and I knew she wasn't eating anymore. I almost scoffed in disbelief, amused by the scene. She must have really been paying attention when I said I wouldn't leave until she stomached half of the bowl. Whatever. She ate enough. Now I wanted to hear her voice.

"Talk to me, honey. Please." I said, my voice gentle. I kept looking at her but she didn't budge. Frustrated, I placed the bowl on the floor beside me and arose from the chair, effortlessly taking her into my arms. I started walking away from the window, her body in my hands.

"W-What are you doing?" She demanded, her voice rusty and forced, as if it had taken a great effort to have each word escape her throat. Hell, she hadn't spoken for hours. It was only natural.

I kept walking unperturbed and looked down into her wide, shocked eyes. "You haven't used the bathroom the whole day and you had a bowl of soup." I said, let her make of it what she wanted.

I entered the bathroom and slid her down to her feet, walking out when I was sure she was stable. I didn't leave but decided to wait outside the door in the hall until she finished in case she needed my help. When I turned to prop myself against the wall as I waited, I noticed that Mila didn't realize she had left the door ajar and that I was standing right outside of it. She started undoing the button of her pants and I saw her struggle. Her cold and numb hands were inadequate to the task.

I moved silently and opened the door, startling her. Bending down in front of her, I easily undid the button then pulled down the zipper, my eyes coming into contact with the red cotton of her underwear. I stood upright, watching her crimson face and those doe-like baby blues as they fought the shock of what she had just seen me do.

And I was gone at the second, truly closing the door for her and propping myself against the wall. I remembered those red panties contrasting brightly against her ivory white skin and my loins throbbed heavily in my pants. I bit my lip in frustration, hoping to stifle the yearning.

My ears perked and my head snapped forward when I hear a loud tumbling sound coming from the door ahead of me. Mila.

I flung the door open and my eyes met Mila's body, lying on the floor where she had fallen over the rack of toiletries kept on the ground. Her eyes were shut from the pain and a wince was evident in her distraught features. Then her eyes opened and she was on the verge of tears. Shit. I went to her and quickly took her into my arms, hoping that something I did would ease the hurt she was feeling. I kissed her head and searched her legs, bare and glistening with the lack of clothing. Those red underwear were perfectly displayed for me and I felt a thin sheet of moisture ripen across my forehead. Goddammit, her legs. I tore my eyes away from them and looked at her arms, her head. She was alright, no injuries that I could see. As I expected, the worst she'd experience would be slight bruising and that would take time to form. I'd give her cream for those when and if they appeared.