Oh, my god. Why did I just say that? He’s going to think I’m crazy. Or that I want his help again.
My words land between us like a hand grenade and James jerks back, his chair screeching on the floor. He looks like he wants to run away. I don’t blame him. He risked his life for me once. Why would he want to have anything to do with me if there was another threat lurking?
“I mean…it’s been really strange. I’ve been finding these presents at my door and at first I thought it was a neighbor and then a secret admirer…” I groan and hide my face in my palms. “You must think I’m a complete idiot. It really only occurred to me today this might be dangerous.”
His eyebrows shoot up, even more startled than before. He’s pale and looks a little ill. Poor guy. He probably regrets running into me now. I’m pretty sure we had a moment—perhaps a few tonight. Right before my untimely confession, there was definitely electricity zapping.
He wanted to kiss me. And as much as I want to focus on my independence in this new lease on life, I wanted him to reach out and do it. Who can blame a girl when the man is as hot as James?
He’s been studying me with those beautiful hooded eyes and I’ve been so flustered I keep blurting out shit. Telling him about the unusual presents and the threat was important, but I could have broached it more gracefully. He must think I’m just a crazy kid.
“He not only knows where I live, but probably where I work because there’s been no gifts on my days off,” I continue. “And it’s not like—”
“I’ll protect you.” He flinches as if the offer hurt him physically.
A mixture of relief and something fuzzy spreads through me. “I can’t impose. I might be just freaking out for no reason. And the gifts were really nice and useful.” I giggle, but it sounds like a mad scientist’s laugh. I am mad. For crying out loud, I’m completely frazzled by this encounter.
“I’ll walk you home to make sure you’re safe.” His beautiful face is ridden with pain. Or just plain discomfort.
He must think I’m taking advantage of his bodyguard experience. I am, to a certain extent. A part of me is grateful he’s here and he’ll help me. At least tonight.
We leave the coffee shop and continue toward my building, but the walk isn’t as comfortable as before. He must think I’m crazy. That I’m making up shit. Oh my god, does he think I fabricated it all to get him to walk me home? But wasn’t that implied when he suggested waiting for me after work?
He invited me for coffee and instead of taking time to get to know each other, I practically requested his professional services. He probably can’t wait to drop me off at home.
“I’m sorry to drag you into this. You probably have better things to do—”
“Drop it, Sasha,” he growls. It’s a demand laced with frustration. I think this is the first time he’s said my name, and circumstances aside, I like how it sounds on his lips. In his baritone.
We continue walking in an awkward silence and by the time we reach my house, my mind has ventured in so many different directions that I’m a ball of nerves. Full of regret. This man is out of my league. He is gorgeous. He has his life all figured out.
Guessing by his clothes, he is well off. And he wanted to spend time with me. Yet I make sure to destroy any chance I might have had with him.
He’s so different from any other man in my life. Accomplished, cultured, with money. Not a low-life with addiction issues like Bruce. After finding the job and my new place, the universe sent me this man and I’ve fucked it up.
We enter my building and walk up the stairs to my apartment. There is no gift, which should spark relief, but I almost feel worse because now he’ll definitely think I made the whole thing up.
“Nothing tonight,” I squeal, unable to control my voice.
My stomach sinks as heat spreads across my cheeks and I do the complete opposite of what I should. Getting on my toes, I hook my arms around his shoulder and before he can react—and I glimpse horror in his eyes—I seize his lips.
We stumble and by instinct—I think—he wraps his arms around me to steady me. His mouth is closed and his whole body goes rigid. I want to recoil and barricade myself in my apartment. Now I will have to find a new home and a new job. Probably move away from Chicago.
Before I step away, he groans and pulls me tighter to him, cupping the back of my neck and angling me to get better access. I might have started this, but there is no doubt who dominates the situation.
He parts my lips with his tongue and dives in, pushing me against the wall. I’ve never been kissed like this. With everything he has.
Giving. Claiming. Devouring.
His lips spread heat down my spine, right to my core. It’s gentle and controlling. Sweet and hot. Innocent and sinful.
He lifts my arms above my head and holds them there. He doesn’t roam, doesn’t try to discover the whole me. He is solely focused on this kiss. Part of me craves his touch, but the much bigger part of me is grateful he gives with abandon and doesn’t take advantage.
I lose track of time, but I’m willing to stay in this moment. Our kiss is urgent and desperate, but James doesn’t rush us anywhere. It may or may not be out of respect, but why else? Why else would a man control himself and only kiss me, without trying to do more?
I’ve never been treated with respect. James’s ministration, while hot and dominant, has distinct signs of consideration and chivalry.
It brings tears to my eyes and I moan, desperate for a breath.
A guttural sound breaks free from the back of his throat and he lifts his lips away, leaning his forehead against mine. I don’t know if he can see the tears, but suddenly he pushes away.
“I have to go,” he mumbles and rushes away.
I deserved that.