Funny how the presence of the devil can be reassuring.
I blame the tequila.
“Following me?” I quip, taking a few steps backward to maintain our eye contact.
“You live in my house, remember? Or are you too drunk for that?” North’s voice is laden with that familiar annoyance as if he’s already fed up with me again, his eyes rolling slightly.
I haven’t evensaid one word to him today.
“I’m not drunk,” I snap back, the indignation clear in my tone, just as my foot finds a patch of icy snow. My feet fly out from under me, and I hit the ground with a thud that knocks the wind out of me. “Ouch…”
North pauses, and for a moment, there’s a flash of something like concern in his gaze before he curses under his breath and comes over. He reaches out a hand to help me to my feet, pulling me up like I weigh nothing.
Fuck, that’s hot.
The unexpected jolt from his touch still vibrates through me as he gestures toward the boardwalk with a rough nod. “Try not to break your neck, please. I can’t have you dying on my watch. Hunter would never buy it as an accident,” he says, a teasing edge to his voice.
There it is again, that glimpse, that small flicker of the guy behind all the anger and assholeness he showed me when I hurt my ankle. Knowing there’s more to him, a layer to uncover, is so intriguing. Just as intriguing as the man himself.
“I make no promises,” I retort, the flutter in my stomach betraying my cool exterior. “But it’s cute that you think you’d care.”
I can’t help but tease back, hoping he plays along, hoping to get some more of the North he’s hiding from the world.
“I have a reputation to maintain. Can’t have it said that I don’t look after our... guests,” he shoots back, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, suggesting he’s enjoying our back-and-forth more than he’ll admit.
How much did he drink?
The silence that falls between us as we walk is thick with tension. His footsteps sync with mine, a steady reminder that he’s there, just inches away.
My foot slips on a treacherous patch of ice once more, my sneakers obviously not made for this weather, a gasp tearing from my lips as I flail my arms. Instinctively, my hand shoots out, latching onto North’s upper arm with a vice-like grip. My nails dig into the fabric of his jacket, and through it, I feel the solid muscle of his arm.
“Fuck,” he hisses in pain, a note of surprise in his voice as he steadies me. His arm flexes under my touch, a mixture of steel and heat.
“Sorry,” I breathe out, realizing I’m practically hanging onto him for dear life. “I’m surprised you can even feel anything through all that ice in your veins,” I quip, unable to resist poking at his stoic demeanor some more.
Maybe I’m drunk, after all.
I release my grip, but the imprint of his muscle lingers on my fingertips.
He chuckles, a low sound that makes my heart skip a beat. It’s so warm it seems at odds with the cold air. “Oh, I feel plenty. For example, I’m acutely aware of how much of a pain you’re being right now.”
Ugh.This man is dangerous.
If this is what it’s like to have a civil conversation, some banter, with him?
What else can he do?
I turn my head to look up at him and find him already staring, but it’s not his annoyed or angry stare. It’s something like… interest?
As we reach his doorstep, he unlocks the door with a deft flick of his wrist. “After you,” he says, putting his hand on my lower back as I pass by him, and it feels possessive, claiming.
“Trying to steer me now?” I ask, tilting my head to give him a challenging look. “Afraid I’ll stumble into your precious collection of... what, bear traps and broken hearts?”
“Ha, you wish,” he retorts, his voice low, his breath brushing against my ear. “But do try not to break anything, including yourself. I’d never hear the end of it.” I have to step away from him because what I want to do right now is see ifhecan break me.
He scans me up and down as I leave my jacket and shoes on the coatrack. “What?” I ask, looking at him defiantly.
Having his eyes rake my body is doing things to me I don’t like to admit.
