Confined with the CEO and the Bodyguard

reach my arms overhead. The thin cotton pulls over my boobs. My patients instantly take notice. “Like this. Take your wrist in your hand and bend sideways.”
I demonstrate. The men watch me, and I give them a little smirk of my own. Then I drop my hands to my sides and slap my thighs briskly. “Try these exercises for a few days, Mr. Reed, and then we’ll add on a more challenging stretch,” I say. Then I look his companion directly in the eye. “Are you ready, Mr. Wilson?”
He rises. “Yes, ma’am.”
I am mesmerized by the quirk of a smile that plays on his lips. Given my already-aroused state, I duck my head and internally whisper a prayer that I can keep my mind where it belongs—on my future. If these men let me stay after the lockdown is over, I’ll be able to save money and I won’t have to worry about housing. I’ll have the time and space to start executing the plan I developed during my quarantine period.
One thing is certain: getting into bed with these men would be the fastest way to screw things up.

5
Dakota
Having Sadie’s hands on me is both torture and bliss. There’s no question that she is a very good masseuse.
“How do you like the pressure?” she asks. Her voice is a little husky. The sexy sound hangs in my ear. For the next forty minutes, I lay face down as she glides her strong hands up and down my back, digs into the spot under my shoulder blades that always hurts, and soothes the tight bands at my neck. It’s bliss. The best part, though, isn’t her quiet efficiency as Sadie moves around my body. It’s basking in her presence, listening to her breathe and feeling her hands slip over my skin.
By the time she asks me to flip onto my back, I am in a predicament. I’m not going to demean her professionalism by asking for a “happy ending,” but I do think about it for a minute, which doesn’t help matters.
She makes it easy for me, though. Sadie holds the sheet in front of her face and looks demurely away while I turn over, then drops it over my midsection. It’s strange, being able to watch her work. She’s so efficient.
Then I remember I can talk to her.
Only I can’t think of anything to say. Sadie has me feeling awkward and tongue-tied. For a while, I lie there and let her press my aching arms. It hurts a little, but then, everything does when you’ve fixed miles of washed-out fencing.
“How long have you been riding horses?” she asks as she runs a hard finger down my bicep.
“Since I was a kid. My dad bought me a pony when I was eight. I had—have—ADHD and it helped me learn to focus. I guess it’s a technique used in France or something. Anyway, I started jumping, learned dressage, won some awards in shows.” I say this nonchalantly, but this was one place I could excel above my hyper-achieving siblings. “I fell out of the circuit for a while in college and after, but I always knew I’d spend all day with horses if I had the opportunity.”
“I’ve never been on a horse before,” Sadie says. She switches to my other side. As we’ve talked, my discomfort fades.
Then, my arm brushes her breast and a tingle of desire surges through me. It lands in my groin and...uh-oh.
There’s a soft buzzing sound. “Thank you for your time today, Mr. Wilson.”
“Dakota,” I insist.
“Sorry,” Sadie says, flashing me a half-grin. Her eyes glitter like jewels from beneath strings of black hair. She’s trimmed it, unevenly, so that it falls over her forehead and then dangles over her shoulder in a sleek, straight line.
My gaze drops to her breasts. My stomach feels as if I’ve been dropped over a cliff. I haul my eyes back up to where they belong and ask, “Would you like to try it?”
An uncertain smile ghosts over her lips. “Riding a horse? I would, actually.”
“Tomorrow morning? Maybe around ten?”
“Great.” This earns me a full smile. “It’s a deal. I’ll let you take your shower now.”
She moves past me and is gone.
The next morning, my heart is hammering with anticipation when Sadie’s shadow grows long in the entrance to the barn. She’s wearing jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt.
“Hi,” I call out. My voice comes out like a seagull’s squawk. I feel like I did when I had a crush on Courtney Brooks back in middle school—and sound like it, too. I signal the horse I’m lunging to stop. “Whoa, Cookie.”
“He’s pretty.”
Sadie is at my side. I sense her more than see her. “Cookie’s a she,” I inform Sadie as I detach the lunge line and adjust the saddle. “She’s a gentle girl, and will be perfect for your first ride.”
I direct her to the boots and helmet I’ve set out for her. I will admit that I did take the opportunity to check out her ass as she bends over to put them on. It’s tight and cute and hugged perfectly by the cheap denim. My midsection coils into a slippery knot.
Once she’s on the horse, time flies quickly. There’s nothing like seeing a person who’s never been on one before. It gets me every time. Once the ranch is profitable—if it’s ever profitable—I have plans to work with disadvantaged youth. I remember the first time I got on a pony as clear as day. The initial sense of power. And the moment the animal moved, the realization that it could throw me off and stomp on me. Learning to work with the gentle animal gave me confidence and patience that’s helped me all my life. I want to put that back into the world.
Working with horses always puts me into a focused and present headspace. The hour flies by. I wonder if this is how it feels for Sadie when she’s doing bodywork. I’m probably grasping at any