“Surprisingly well. Despite the kidnapping.”
“I didn’t kidnap you,” I growled, not knowing how I could explain to her any other way that she wasn’t safe on her own. “Your dad hired me. I’m here to protect you. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this whole thing will be for both of us.”
If she stopped trying to get away and do this on her own, I could stop watching her all the time. I needed space and I needed it soon, or I’d lose my damn mind. She was a client, and I needed to stay away from her.
Even if there was a chance she wanted to explore this thing between us as much as I did, I wouldn’t go down that path. But my resolve was fading. I could feel the frayed hold I had on my control, the impossible attraction I felt for her.
“You keep telling yourself whatever helps you sleep at night,” she said, glaring at me before checking on Killer.
I chuckled into my coffee before taking another sip.
Despite looking a little worse for wear, Killer seemed to like being here. Since our trip wasn’t exactly planned, we’d only grabbed whatever food we found at the gas station for him. But if we ran out, there was plenty of grass around that he could eat.
When she was done fussing over her perfectly content pet, I handed her a mug. She took it, shooting another glare at me.
“You hungry?” I asked, changing the topic and hoping the sugar rush she was about to experience would put her in a better mood.
She sat down at the small table, cradling her mug. “Depends on what you’re offering.”
I pointed to the shelf mounted to the kitchen wall above the sink. “Baked beans, Spam, Pop-Tarts.”
Her chair scraped back, and she was next to me, leaning up to reach the shelf. Her arms were a few inches too short. “You have Pop-Tarts?”
“All that sugar preserves them for ages. And they’re easy to heat up,” I said, reaching up to get them down for her.
My front pressed against her back, and we both froze.
Oh no, no, no, no. I’m stronger than this. She’s just a woman. Nothing special about her.
Except her smell, which was a mix of strawberry and vanilla. A heady combination that was currently invading my senses.
My brain screamed at me to get as far away as I could. It took every last ounce of self-control I had to not reach out and touch her.
She stepped to the side, and I jumped back, then shoved the Pop-Tarts at her. “I’m taking a shower. Do I need to cuff you again, or are you going to stay and eat your breakfast?”
Her eyes met mine, and she looked flushed. I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that, for some inexplicable reason, she seemed to feel the same attraction to me as I did to her. But there was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe. Even if that meant ignoring the attraction between us.
She didn’t meet my eyes, and by now I knew that meant she was planning her escape. So despite knowing I’d piss her off and make our new roommate situation even more uncomfortable, I got the cuffs out from one of the drawers and handcuffed her to the kitchen sink.
“You bastard,” she hissed, the flushed glow gone, replaced with angry red splotches.
“Just making sure I don’t have to go looking for you.”
I grabbed clean clothes and took a quick shower. I didn’t wait the ten minutes for it to heat up, just stepped in straight away. The icy water did nothing to calm my racing heart.
When I came back out, she was standing where I’d left her, chewing the last of her Pop-Tarts. Her head snapped my way as soon as I stepped back into the living room.
“Uncuff me,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. She popped the last piece of the pastry in her mouth, her jaw working angrily at decimating the innocent baked good.
I sauntered over to her, debating how far I could push her before I had to fear for my life. Her eyes spewed fire, and I couldn’t stop the excitement zipping through me.
She was magnificent in her anger, looking every bit the Mafia princess she used to be. And still would be if she hadn’t left home.
Once I took the cuffs off her, she stomped to the bed, throwing herself on top. I’d expected her to yell at me some more, but instead she’d opted for the silent treatment. The disappointment coursing through me was as unexpected as it was ridiculous. What was she doing to me?
I spent the morning cleaning out the cabin and chopping more wood for the fireplace. Freya stayed on the bed, not looking at me or offering to help.
Since I’d pushed her a little too far this morning, I only had myself to blame that I was stuck doing everything on my own. But I didn’t mind. I’d done it a hundred times before, and the physical work was exactly what I needed. As was the distance she was putting between us.
