Or rather, my reactions to her do. One minute I can barely keep myself from storming out of her apartment and burning rubber back to Columbus, the next I want my lips on hers just because she’s upset over a nightmare.
Whenever her walls drop, whenever she stops spewing theI’m finebullshit and shows what hides beneath the façade, I’m a goner. So into her it drives me crazy.
But those moments don’t come often. They don’t last long. The morning after her nightmare, she kept zoning out, a sad look taking up residence in her honey eyes. She schooled herself when she noticed me looking at her, and Little Miss Independent came back in full force.
It’s the dreaded Wednesday today. The day she reopens her shop. It came around far too quickly. While sorting out the security systems, I tried changing her mind about working.
A few more arguments ensued, fueling my exasperation. Exasperation doused in the brief moments when she thought I wasn’t watching her like a fucking hawk, and her cold exterior melted away.
As predicted, I failed to change her mind. She’s reopeningBloomtoday which means I hardly slept and I’m on edge. Keeping her safe in one location is easier than doing it at two, even though the shop is in the same building.
The added threat of strangers coming and going as they please means complete vigilance while on the job. It’s not like I can deny access to anyone who looks shady.
Bianca’s alarm goes off in the bedroom as dawn breaks outside the living room window, my watch showing five in the morning. I’ve been awake a while, ever since I heard Arthur on the hunt for snacks in the kitchen cupboards an hour ago.
Letting out a groan, I stretch my stiff limbs after another night on the blow-up bed. Renting the newly renovated apartment down the hall crossed my mind at least ten times already, but leaving Bianca unattended at night is not something I can do. Not even if Arthur were to sit in her living room, keeping an eye on the door without blinking.
He’s good at his job. He does everything right, ticks all the boxes. The show he put on torturing Amadeus works in his favor too—I know he’s ruthless. I know he’s capable, but no matter how good he is, he’s not me.
He’s here on Carter’s orders; he’s doing a job.
I’m here on Carter’s orders too, but it’s more than an obligation for me.
I’ve developed a soft spot for Bianca. Not because I almost moved the fucking earth to find her, or because she’s attractive, and definitely not because she’s Hailey’s sister.
There’s more, A feeling I can’t name. It’s not infatuation or attraction. It’s a need to be around her.
Even if she drives me half insane with her attitude, even if I loathe her ice-cold-bitch personality, I can’t shake thatneedtoprotect her, keep her safe, wrap her in my arms and tell her everything will be okay.
I stifle a chuckle. No way would Bianca welcome any form of comfort that doesn’t come in the form of good food, warm blankets, and cups of hot chocolate.
Hugs? Forget it.
She rolls out of bed, her footsteps tapping against the floor, the paper-thin walls not keeping any secrets. She was worried about me watching her sleep? Good one. I can hear it every time she turns in bed.
Picturing her stomping across the room to her closet comes easily. The door creaks as she opens it. I make a mental note to fix the hinges. Grabbing some clothes, she tiptoes across the room and her bedroom door cracks open.
“Stop sneaking around,” I say, sitting up and raking a hand through my hair.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” She flicks on the kitchen cabinet lights. They’re not bright but illuminate the space enough that she won’t trip over.
A groan vibrates my chest. She’s wearing a tiny spaghetti-strap night dress, frilly lace kissing her thighs.
She looks... fuckable.
No. That’s not it. She looks freshly fucked and it’s glorious.
Her lips are pursed, hair a tousled mess, cheeks rosy thanks to the hotter-than-hell temperature. No one in their right mind sleeps well in eighty-degree heat.
My eyes slip lower, to the slender neck I’ve imagined wrapping my fingers round for two very different reasons. More frilly lace frames her full, perky breasts, her nipples hard, curves tightly hugged by the soft fabric. My cock responds, swelling andtwitching. I map out the line of her hips and smooth legs, the hem ending a few inches below her ass.
Gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous... and yet so, so cold.
“No, you didn’t.” I fall back on the pillow, covering my eyes with my arm. Best to shield myself or she’ll accuse me of being a perv again.
“Okay, well, I’ll go get ready.”
I don’t say anything else, my cock throbbing under the comforter. Once they leave I’ll have the apartment to myself for a couple of hours; I can jack off to my heart’s content.
