For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Her breath fans my neck, sweet with cider, and the pulse in my jaw ticks.
Her fingertips dance over my heart before circling the buttons on my shirt. “Will you tuck me in?”
“Yeah.” I shut the door before she sees the look on my face.
By the time I climb into the driver’s seat, she’s slumped against the window half asleep, tiara in her hand glinting under the streetlights.
I start the engine and glance at her one last time. Her lips are parted, with a small smile playing there.
“Firecracker,” I whisper under my breath.
And as the truck rumbles down Main Street, I already know this night’s going to burn itself into my memory—because the next time she looks at me like that, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to walk away.
I bring the truck to a halt outside her bungalow and park behind Drake’s truck. Light shines through the window of my sister’s bungalow next door, a ladder propped against her gutter reminding me I should have fixed her lights.
I turn off the engine and round the truck to Sera’s side. She’s fast asleep now, and it seems a shame to wake her.
I open the door, and without the window to prop her up, her body sags into me, too trusting for a night like this. “Sweetheart, do you have your key?”
She murmurs but doesn’t open her eyes.
I open the small coffin-shaped handbag hanging across her body and search for her key. Rummaging through the small bag, I’m surprised at how much crap she has in here. A vial of blood that looks like her lip gloss. A pack of tissues, her mobile phone, a small purse and a condom. My brows knit together at the thought of her with another man, but at least she’s being safe. Finally, I feel the key and pull it from the bag.
“Sera, I’m gonna carry you inside and get you into bed, okay.” I slip my hand under her thighs and the other behind her back as I lift her into my arms. The fishnets covering her legs imprint on her flesh, making small diamond shapes on her deliciously thick thighs.
The wind howls through the trees, and a paper ghost flaps on her porch as if it’s waving me in.
As we reach the door, I bend my knees to slide the key into the lock while still holding her in my arms.
She lifts her head, eyes fluttering open, voice husky. “You’ve got strong arms, Chiefy.”
“Hold still,” I say, trying not to look down at the way her dress rides up her thighs.
“I am holding still,” she says, her words slurring together as she clings tighter to my neck. “You smell nice.”
“Yeah, you said that already.”
Her breath fans over my throat. “It’s true.”
I manage to get the key into the lock and push the door open with my shoulder. The faint scent of lavender and cinnamon greets me, as if her nan’s still here with us. Would she judge me if she knew my thoughts?
I carry Sera through the doorway and nudge the door shut behind us with my foot. “Where’s your room?”
She points down the short hallway. “Last door… on the left. Don’t drop me.”
“I won’t.” I hold her tighter against me to make her feel secure and enjoy the weight of her in my arms. She’s not light, but she’s not as heavy as the weights at the gym either.
Her bedroom’s a cosy mess with fairy lights strung around the window, clothes in a heap, a half-finished painting on an easel.
I lower her onto the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her too much.
She lets go of her tiara and bag, placing them on top of her patchwork quilt as she blinks up at me with a sleepy smile. “You’re like… my hero, you know? Grumpy, sparkly, Chiefy hero.”
“All right, that’s enough talking. You need to sleep this off.”
But before I can straighten, she tugs at her dress zipper, twisting awkwardly. “Can you help me with this?”
“Damn it, Sera.” I avert my eyes, but she’s already fumbling with the zipper halfway down her back.
