It’s late morning when I wake up with a fright, as everything that happened suddenly rushes back into my memory. I reach for the gun under my pillow and take a deep breath to try and sooth my racing heart.
Rolling off the bed, my immediate need is to go downstairs and check on Adrian. I hadn’t meant to leave him alone for so long. I guess my body was exhausted and overwhelmed. Besides, what more could I do for him other than check on him?
Still, I feel bad for leaving him alone for so long.
Adrian is still sleeping. He’s changed position, and the blankets are pulled up around his chin. His skin feels warm but not hot, and his breathing is soft and even. When I lift the blankets, feeling a bit uncomfortable about it because he isn’t wearing a shirt, I see that the bandages are still in place and there wasn’t any fresh bleeding during the night. I quickly drop the blankets, horrified by the idea of him waking up while I’m staring at him with the damn blanket in my hand. I tuck it back around him and step away from the bed.
A sigh of relief slips from my lips. He’s ok.
My stomach growls and rolls in an empty complaint of hunger.
Neither of us had lunch or dinner yesterday. When he wakes up, he’s going to be starving.
Heading downstairs, I wander into the kitchen because I need something to do, and it would be nice if he could wake up to a home-cooked meal.
Besides, I’m going to end up going a little crazy if I have to wander around alone all day, lost in my thoughts again.
Part of me keeps screaming that I should try to escape. I should run. I even know the code word to open the door… unless it’s only programmed to his voice and not the actual words. Still, I could easily steal the key from him now. If I really wanted to, Icouldescape. And I should.
But again, I think about where I would go.
Andit’s not the only thing stopping me.
What kind of person would I be if I walked out on a man who had just been shot saving me? I thought about it a few times already. The only reason he got shot is that I was standing there like a complete moron, not moving at all, in an open line of fire, risking my life because I was too stunned to move. And he had to run across the entire warehouse to pull me down behind the cover of those crates. It’s kind of embarrassing.
In the kitchen, I browse the cabinets and the fridge, then pull out all the ingredients to make spaghetti Bolognese. It’s pointless to make breakfast food. Eggs will go rubbery; toast will go cold. Lunch makes more sense.
It’s soothing going through the familiar recipe in my mind, step by step. Caramelize the onions. Add the spices. Ignore how red the tomato paste is and keep going through themotions. I don’t know why, but I hauled out the biggest pot, and I am filling it to the top.
I keep chopping onions until all the onions are done. I keep slicing tomatoes until there are none left. It’s like I desperately need this task to last as long as possible, so I’m making way, way too much food. Adrian is going to have to freeze portions of this off because we are going to be eating this for weeks.
It feels like hours and minutes in my blurred, numb state. Continuously, I glance at the gun on the counter just to make sure it’s still within reach. Still comforting.
Eventually, the kitchen is filled with the rich aroma of Bolognese.
My stomach is growling even more.
“This smells amazing,” Adrian’s voice comes from behind me and makes me jump right out of my skin. Immediately, as though instincts now rule my thoughts, I grab the gun. Spinning around, I point it at him.
“Don’t come near me,” I blurt out. My heart is racing, thudding unevenly.
A dangerous half smile touches his lips. His hair is wet from a shower, brushed back with his fingers. He’s wearing fresh clothes and looking healthy and gorgeous. There is a fresh scent of body wash and cologne drifting toward me. If I hadn’t tended to his wound myself, I would never have known he’d been shot.
“Is the safety off?” he asks, taking a step closer and leaning to the side to check the gun.
I quickly snap it off as my cheeks flush red with embarrassed heat.Dammit. I kept reminding myself over and over again. The number of times I’ve flicked it on and off sinceI’ve been carrying the gun around is actually silly. And then when it comes down to it, I forget all about it.
“Just... stay over there. Don’t come closer to me.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own as I snap the words at him.
Adrian ignores the warning and takes another step toward me. “Come on now, kitten. Put your claws away.” His voice is like honey. Gently amused yet still dangerous enough to send a chill down my spine.
It happens so fast.
One minute, I have the gun firmly in my hands and pointed at him. Next, he grabbed me and spun me around. My back is locked against his chest, the gun is nowhere to be seen, and he has me pinned against the counter.
His breath is hot against the curve of my neck as he leans down and whispers in my ear, “You don’t need to be afraid for me, kitten. I would never hurt you.”
The deepness of his whispered words sets my body on fire. Or perhaps it has nothing to do with his voice and everything to do with his body pinned against mine. His arms are locking me in place.
