We don’t need to say much because we’re both soaking in the calm air between us.
The driver finds a free spot outside her place in the East Lincoln Park neighborhood. “Nice place.” We pay well, but this well for an assistant role? It surprises me.
She skates her gaze between me and the house with what appears to be two apartments, one on top of the other. “I got lucky. A friend from college was sent on a company assignment to Brazil, so her company pays half the lease, and I pay the other while I stay there.”
“In this city, yeah, that’s fortunate.”
She seems humored by me. “I doubt you can understand with your bank account.”
“I’m not ignorant, you should know that by now.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Whoa there, mister. Where are you going?”
Immediately, I’m not impressed. “It’s night in Chicago. I don’t care if you have to walk three feet, I’m walking you to your door because I’m a fucking gentleman.”
She scoffs. “Really? Going into the broody demanding mode, right now?” She opens her door and gets out, only to turn back. “Fine… you might have a point.”
I’m quick to hop out, close the door, and circle the car toher. We leisurely walk up the steps, probably to stretch time. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“No problem.” She shakes off my tux jacket that was around her shoulders to keep her warm. “This is yours. I assume I’ll be picking it up from the dry cleaner sometime soon.”
I titter a laugh at her reference and accept the jacket. “Tempting. But I might actually change your job profile and take that item off the list.”
“Oh gee, how thankful I shall be,” she deadpans.
We reach the final step and her door. “I’m still a little pissed, though.”
“Oh God, what now?” Her aggravation is beginning, and it’s that turn-on that I hate.
“The dress. Really unfair to me.” I’m dead serious.
She throws her arms up in exasperation. “You have to be fucking kidding me. You don’t get to decide how I dress, and if you can’t keep it together, that’s your problem.” She’s offended, as she should be.
“Hey, tone down your snark for a second.”
She swats my shoulder. “I’m not snarky, I’m standing up for my dress collection and all the hard work I’ve done on my legs in Pilates class,” she justifies.
“And nothing in that sentence helps the situation.” My voice rises.
“I don’t care. Nothing about you in a suit and your cocky attitude is fair, yet the world keeps turning.”
Everything inside of me that was building in that second bursts. “What about mewithouta suit? Does your world keep turning then?” I counter, and she pauses with her lips parted slightly open.
I step closer to her, and the way her chest moves up and down only heightens the tension around us because it’sclearly visible even under the dim streetlight that she’s worked up. I’m well aware that subconsciously, I’m leading us down a dangerous path, and that is my full intention.
She glances up to the sky and drops her gaze back to me. “Are we bickering about clothes? You,grrr, gosh, you are…” She lets out a slew of words that make zero sense, and she shakes her hands as her face contorts in different positions.
The moment stops, and she gives in by stepping forward and moving to frame my face with her hands, but I’m quick, and I grab her wrists to meet her halfway when our mouths meet in a fervent kiss. I make an indication behind my back to the waiting driver to leave before I snatch the keys from her hand and walk her back to her door.
It’s impossible to say how I managed to get the door open because neither one of us was focusing on the logistics, instead stuck in our determination for more.
When the door opens, she fists my shirt and yanks me in.
And I kick the door closed behind me.
12
SAVANNAH
