There’s barely any space between us and her scent; sweet and fucking addictive has already saturated the air. She smells like damn sunshine and wildflowers.
My hand tightens on the wheel as I reach for the button to crack my window open but it’s damn useless. And she just fucking sits there, sipping her coffee, watching the city go by without a single clue.
I had her close once. I had my hands on her body once. I should have known this was a bad idea.
It feels as if it takes hours to get to her little townhouse, the builders already set up for the day and I’m out of the Audi before the engine has even fully shut off, rounding the car to open her door.
She doesn’t even look at me as she makes her wayinto the house, elegance and grace in every move. Eyes turn to watch her, necks twisting as she passes by but it’s like she doesn’t see them.
I fucking do though. And it makes me want to rip out their fucking eyeballs and shove them down their throat. As I step onto the path, I reach for my switch blade, flipping the knife out and then back in, over and over again as my lips sound a whistle, drawing their attention away from her.
They all soon find their work incredibly intriguing when they see the knife. I’ve no problem using it, have used it many, many times and will use it if these fucks think they can get a free show from the woman that employs them.
Savannah is with Luke, her hands moving and waving around as she speaks. The house itself looks much better already and there’s that fresh coat of paint smell filling the air. Dust and off cuts of timber litter the floor but it actually looks like it could be lived in now. I will have someoneItrust check it before Savannah moves in officially.
“The specialist should be in this afternoon,” Luke tells Savannah, “To get your dance room completed.”
Her whole face brightens with her beaming smile, “You’re doing such a great job!”
Luke nods his head to me as I come to a stop at her side, but she just keeps smiling, even when he goes off to work, she turns that grin in my direction.
“Can you believe how quickly they’re getting it done!?” Her joy is so palpable and pure, somethinginside my chest thumps in response, “I could be moving in bynext week!”
I remain silent while I take in the grin on her face, her eyes bright with so much excitement. When she starts making it for the door, I trail behind her, glaring at anyone who stares at her too long while she continues to ramble.
“The specialist is someone Luke found; they’re coming in to fit the dance studio. The mirrors alone are huge! I picked out all these paint colors last week, so I need to decide how I’m going to decorate." Her words tumble from her lips, “I wonder if Olivia and Willow will want to come over and help, we could totally make it a girl’s night, with wine and music!”
I reach for the door and open it for her, that smile still on her face, “What do you think?” She asks, “Do you think they’d want to?”
“Ask them,” I reply. “If you need help though, I can help.”
“Decorating doesn’t seem like your thing,” She shrugs and pats my chest a little condescendingly, “Thanks for the offer though.”
I don’t correct her. I’ve been painting my whole life. I have hundreds of finished canvases in the spare room at my condo, not that I would show anyone. Especially not the recent ones I have done.
It’ll be hard to hide my obsession when the strokes of paint so clearlygive it life.
I start the engine and pull into the street while Savannah continues to talk at me, explaining her plans for the living room and the studio, our bickering from an hour ago seemingly forgotten. She talks the whole way to the studio, but I don’t mind, even if I am suffocating with her so close, I could listen to her talk all day. Her voice has a soothing quality, even when it’s biting.
At the gates, Savannah leans across me as I roll down the window, stray tendrils of her hair tickling my lips as she gives her details to the guard. My hands curl tighter on the wheel, the skin across my knuckles whitening with the grip. She falls back into the seat as he lets us through, noticing my hands.
“Are you trying to strangle it?” She asks with a slight, amused lilt to her tone.
Blood rushes back as I release.
“You need to relax, Killian,” She tells me, matter of fact, “Stress isn’t good for the heart.”
No, what’s not good for the heart is being in close proximity with my best friend’s little sister when all I want to do is pull her into the backseat.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” I snap as I shove the door open and open hers, her frown pulling down her brows.
“Fine.” Savannah crosses her arms over her chest, “Where to, boss?”
“Excuse me?”
“Since you’re forcing yourself to be my bodyguard, I guess that means you call the shots, right? Or is that not how this works?”
