“’S open.”
“What?” I snapped, sure I heard her wrong.
“’S always open.”
“Your door?”
She rolled her head in a roundabout way, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Why the fuck would your doors always be open?”
She chuckled as she drifted off, but frankly, there was nothing funny about this. What the hell was she thinking? Who left their doors open?
Pulling into her drive, I shifted into park and turned to face her, but she was already out, snoring lightly as she snuggled in deeper. Sighing, I shoved the door open and stalked around to her side, flinging her door open in anger.
This woman was pissing me off, and I wasn’t in the mood for whatever bullshit was going on with her. Then again, it briefly crossed my mind that it wasn’t so much her that was pissing me off, but the fact that I was worried about her.
But that couldn’t be it.
Lifting her out of the seat, I tried not to inhale her intoxicating aroma as I pulled her against my chest, or think about how much I liked her in my arms. We were just having sex. It was nothing more than that.
It never would be.
As expected, the door was unlocked. Any asshole off the street could stroll right in and make themselves at home or steal her stuff.
Or take advantage of the fact that she was a single woman living alone.
Anger boiled in my gut, but I shoved it aside for when she was actually conscious and could have a conversation about her idiocy. Or just sit there as I yelled at her. She didn’t really need to talk. She only needed to listen to the lecture I was forming in my head.
Since this was the first time I was in her house, I didn’t know where her bedroom was, but the layout of the house was pretty straightforward. The living room was in the front as you walked in, with the kitchen at the back and a hall leading to the bedrooms. It was pretty much what you would expect of a rental, and while it wasn’t the fanciest house, she kept it clean and decorated nicely.
Nothing overly girly, which I appreciated.
But the number of books stacked on various tables was shocking. Even for a woman who ran a bookshop. Who had time to read that much?
I kicked open the first door on the right, but the only thing in there was a desk, chair, and more bookcases filled with novels and a few magazines. The next door was the bathroom, so I kicked open the last door on the left and carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently. I was just about to pull the covers up when I realized she was still in her clothes.
Stepping back, I stared down at the woman, trying to decide what to do. It wasn’t like stripping her was a problem. I’d seen the woman naked plenty of times. I’d had my tongue on parts of her body that only a lover would know.
And yet, this felt too intimate.
“Just do it,” I muttered, pulling off her shoes first and tossing them in the corner. When that was done, I unbuttoned her jeans, doing my best not to stare at the juncture between her thighs. I was already hard just being in the bedroom. Next came her sweater, which was more of a struggle than I anticipated when her arms flailed all around as I tried in vain to remove it from her body. In the end, I tugged it back down and left her as she was, pulling the covers up to her chin.
Now that I had done my part, I headed for the door, only belatedly remembering how much she’d drunk.
“Basket,” I said, snapping my fingers as I headed back to the bathroom in search of something to put next to her bed.
When that was done, I once again headed for the door, but then thought of the pounding headache she’d most likely have in the morning. Cursing myself, I went to the fridge and found a bottle of water, loosening the cap before taking it to her room and setting it on the nightstand. After finding some pills in the cabinet, I set those beside her bed as well.
There. That was everything.
Except for the fact that the house had been left open all day.
I really fucking hated myself for getting involved right now. This was really none of my business, and yet, I couldn’t leave her house without checking all the windows and making sure the back sliding door was locked, and a wooden stick was in the track, preventing anyone from breaking in. I tugged the door closed behind me and stood on her steps, breathing in the night air.
“Too fucking much, Sam. Walk away.”
And yet, as I walked to my car and headed to my house on wheels, I knew it would be nearly impossible to never see her again.
