Oh, she's got another bedroom.I see the closed door across the hall and mentally slap myself.
“Where are you sleeping? Is it this room right here?” I ask curiously, giving her a little“may I?”look, and stepping out into the hallway to open the other door that's closed without waiting for permission.
However, there's nothing to see as it's an empty, dark room.
I frown, closing the wooden door back with a soft click, and walk back to her office. I lean my shoulder against the doorframe and assess her for a moment. “Sarah, there’s not a bed in there. Where are you sleeping?” I ask quietly.
Ssrah looks dead on her feet, and the speed in which she averts her eyes has my hackles rising. “Uhm, I’ve been sleeping on the couch for the last week or so. I was just going to stay here until I pick an apartment,” she replies in a hushed tone, her fingers tangling in her hair as she stands there, swaying gently.
I fight to keep from clearing my throat. She can't mean this loveseat I'm currently staring at. I know she can't.
My eyes nail themselves to the small, dark-blue couch against the far wall. I frown at the very thin throw blanket laid across the back of it. And it's not big enough for a five year old child to stretch out comfortably on it, much less her. Now it's my turn to blink.
Silently I push off the door frame and journey back down the hallway, walking into the kitchenette where I open her little refrigerator and her freezer. She has nothing but ice, an almost empty jug of iced coffee, a bag of grapes, and two bottles of water. My eyes narrow in annoyance.
Fuck that.Uh-uh.
She's coming home with me.
Striding back into her office like I own the place, I walk casually around her desk to where she stands. Ignoring her little flinch away from me, I open her drawer back up, bending down to grab her tote out. Swiveling, I carefully pick her up bridal-style, being extremely careful of her back, and ignore her squeak of protest.
“Dr. Richardson,what are you doing?”she sputters.
Too bad for her she's too exhausted to really put up a fight because I'm not letting this go. I won't. As if she knows, she seems to give up before she even has a chance to fight. She lays her head on my shoulder, her body going limp in my arms.
My heart races at the feel of her in my arms, and how close our faces are. I stare down at her, watching her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she fights to stay awake. The sight is arresting, and innocent. Giving me enough pause to be momentarily lost in the color of her skin. She is one arresting woman.
She has blue-green veins visible underneath delicate skin that I've seen flush several different shades of pink tonight. She reminds me of a beautiful sunset, with every color imaginable available to me if I just know which buttons to push.
Thank God she’s too tired to argue. I think.
I speak to her in a calming, low tone. “We can either go to a hotel tonight, or you can come to my house. I’m not leaving you alone, and you are not sleeping on thatthing. It’s not even a couch. You won’t be comfortable, and you need to be able to stretch out after what you just went through,” I say, swinging us in the direction of the sofa so tiny it's barely made for two people to sit in. “Your choice.”
“You don’t have to-” Sarah whispers weakly.
Oh, but I do.
“Hotel or my house?” I gently interrupt, rocking her in my arms as I wait patiently.
Thankfully, more of her resolve leaves her. She wets her lips, opening her eyes. “Well, if you promise not to do to me whatever you did to Brandon, I’ll go to your place. You probably want to get out of your clothes,” she says wearily, and I feel her resolvecompletelyleave her.
Single-mindedly focused on getting her to my house by any means necessary, I turn to walk down her hallway.
Sarah stiffens.“Wait,”she says sharply, her eyes snapping back open. God, her particular shade of brown is to die for. “I need my hair…stuff.”
“Where is it?”
“Bathroom. O-On the left.”
I turn and walk four steps to the other room, leaning us in. She reaches forward to grab a plastic shower cap, a brush, comb, hair oil, and a hot brush, and shoves it with the rest of the things in the tote.
“I’d pay good money to see your curls one day,” I admit, making her stiffen and scrunch her nose. “Maybe you’ll come terrorize me at the office another day, and you’ll grace me with the sight.”
I want to keep her talking so she doesn’t have much time to slip into the sadness I know will be coming once she gets alone. Desiring to hold it off just a little longer for her tonight.
She rests her head on my shoulder again, and this warmth in my chest burns just a little bit hotter. Melting me further.
I try to be as gentle as I can, but she makes a little sound as I bend to grab her bag of clothes, walk out the door and turn back to face it again so she can reach and lock it. She flinches and heaves a little gasping sigh.
