She waves away my concern. “It’s no big deal. It’s just for the boyfriends who want to sleep over.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. “Do you at least have a lock on your door that you use at night?”
Her silence is my answer, and I don’t like it, not one little bit. My fingers unconsciously grip the strap of my messenger bag, the worn leather more of a comfort than I want to admit, but it does the trick and calms me down enough so I don’t do something stupid like tell her I’m going to be securing this sorority like Fort-fucking-Knox.
“Which room is yours?” I ask, because I’ve never seen the inside, and the last thing I want to do is bust into the wrong girl’s room.
Savanna hands me her helmet and says, “Wait on the balcony for me, and I’ll show you.”
I nod and then watch her turn and run up the manicured lawn. The outside lights illuminate the brick path, and when she disappears inside, I turn my head and study the frat house across the street. The Alphas are quiet tonight. They have been since we killed a bunch of their members. They’d been working for Cupid, drugging women at our club and as if that wasn’t bad enough, they decided to get into trafficking. Only a few of the frat boys were involved, but the numbers went down enough to curb their weekend parties. I’m sure the neighbors would thank us if they knew we were the ones responsible for the peace and quiet.
Turning my back on the house, I make my way up the lawn, making sure to stay in the blindspots. I scan every inch of the brick mansion, mapping out all the places I’m going to put security cameras. I can plant them without anyone knowing, and I’ll make sure I’m the only one who sees the feed, but this sneaking in whoever the hell they want is too fucking dangerous.
Sticking close to the bricks, I peek behind the line of shrubs and easily spot the ladder that’s stashed away and ready for use. I lean it against the balcony above me, wondering how many horny young men have climbed these rungs in the hopes of getting laid. I can’t say I blame them. Hell, I can’t even muster up the strength to be judgy about it. I’m climbing the old, ricketything, and IknowI’m not getting laid tonight. I’m just doing it in the hopes she’ll get scared about something and grip my finger again. It makes me feel pathetic to think it, but there’s no denying I’d do just about anything Savanna wanted me to do, even if it meant my only reward was a glimpse of that cute dimple of hers.
When I get to the top, I hike a leg over the stone railing, not bothering to be sneaky about it since this entire area is a blindspot. It’s a fairly large square of space, and someone must have a green thumb because there are potted plants and flowers filling the space along with a few chairs and small tables. Light filters out from the large French doors in front of me, and it’s not long before I see Savanna walking towards me.
She opens the door, and I can’t help but notice that it was already unlocked. Waving me over, she whispers, “Okay, follow me.”
I do as she says, sticking close behind her as we walk down a wide hallway. The floors are a dark hardwood with a plush runner that spans the length and softens our footsteps. I count three closed doors before she opens the next one on the left and steps in. As soon as I’m inside, she shuts it and flicks on the light. I don’t even try to hide my curiosity. I want to know every detail about this woman, and now I’m standing in her room, the one place that’s filled top to bottom withher.
I run my eyes over everything I can while also trying very hard to not appear as hungry as I am for knowledge about her. The room is large, and she’s lucky enough to have an en suite attached to it. I fight a grin when I see the way she’s using the chair in the corner as a place to throw her clothes. I can barely make out the arms of it beneath the stack of jeans and shirts.
There’s a bookcase on the wall across from her bed, stuffed to bursting with paperbacks crammed into every available space. When I see several photos on her dresser, I walk over and pickup the first one. It’s of her and Cindy, and they look around nine or ten years old. They’re both grinning at the camera, two small arms locked around each other’s shoulders.
Savanna’s voice is soft when she says, “I see you found my pictures.”
I turn the frame so she can see the one I’m looking at. “You were a very cute kid. It reminds me of the photos I have with my cousins when we were little.”
“I bet you guys had a lot of fun. They all seemed really nice at the wedding. I hadn’t been expecting that,” she says and then quickly adds, “I mean, I didn’t think you’d all be awful or anything.”
When I laugh, she blushes and says, “I’ll just shut up now.”
“You were expecting us all to be like Sasha?” I ask while I put the framed photo back on her dresser.
“No, I knew you weren’t like that after we met at Bean Me Up.”
I can’t resist asking, “What did you think I was like?”
Her blue eyes dart around nervously while I watch her cheeks turn pink. “I thought you were sweet,” she says, and then ducks her head and turns to look at her messy bed. “I’ll find George. I left him around here somewhere.”
I want to ask her if that’s all she thought about me, but I’m momentarily distracted when she bends over to dig through her messy covers. It’s impossible to not stare at her ass or the curve of her hips. My eyes follow the line of the low dip of her back, and I nearly groan at the peek-a-boo glimpse of skin I get when she stretches her arms out even more. She looks over her shoulder, giving me a triumphant smile before pulling a laptop out from under her pillow. I try my best to hide how badly I want her, but I swear it’s written all over every inch of me, especially the inches that are below my belt.
Her eyes don’t drift lower, though, and when she turns her head, I quickly take advantage of it and sit on the bench at the end of her bed. The whole room has a feminine scent to it, but I swear it’s stronger the closer I get to her bed—an intoxicating mix of vanilla and citrus that makes me want to lean back and bury my head in her sheets.
Thankfully, I resist the urge and take the battered-looking laptop she hands me, grateful for the distraction. Savanna fucks with my head, but the machine on my lap, I understand. When I open it, the first thing I see is a cracked screen.
I lift a brow at her when she sits down next to me.
She smiles and says, “He deserved it.”
My finger lightly runs over the scratch. “Poor George.”
“Poor George nothing,” she insists. “He wouldn’t start up and I needed to get my assignment done.”
“Did beating the shit out of him help?” I ask.
“That’s beside the point, but it did make me feel a little better. I don’t understand why it doesn’t work for me.”
