Chapter 8

I am a fool.

I knock on her front door.

A fucking fool.

She doesn’t answer. I knock again.

Finally, the latch scrapes and she appears, fucking breath-taking as always. Hannah narrows her eyes at me, still standing in the darkness in her apartment, the door only half open.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“What’s wrong with your power?”

“What kind of power are we talking about?” Hannah asks, covering her breasts with both arms, and my God, am I grateful that she does, because she is wearing punishment in clothing form. “Like my power over my mind, my power as a woman? Because there is nothing wrong with that. My power over my gag reflex, however—” She cuts off, her eyes widening. “I need to stop talking. Oh my God, why do I have a mouth?”

And why isn’t it on mine?

“Your lights are out,” I say.

“Huh?”

“You were standing in the dark at the window. Your lights are out.”

“That’s why you came up here?” Hannah asks, her eyebrows climbing. “Of course. Of course, that’s why you came up here. You were worried that I was alone in the dark with a stalker. Because you’re my bodyguard now. Because that’s a wonderful thing that’s happened in the past couple of hours. And I’m doing it again.” She gives a tight smile and rams her lips together.

“It would be much easier to look after you from inside your apartment.”

“Say what now?”

I clear my throat and take a single step inside.

She releases her door and backs up, her eyelids fluttering. “You can’t just?—”

“What?”

“You can’t just come in without asking.”

“All right,” I say. “May I come in?”

“You’re already in.”

We stare at each other in the slanting moonlight from outside. I’m close. So close to her, I could reach out and take her in my arms, walk her back and press her into the wall.

“Savage?” she murmurs, tipping her chin up so she can look me in the eye.

I’m aware that I’m an intimidating guy, and I like that Hannah never acts like she’s afraid of me. Even though she fucking should be.

I shut the door behind me, plunging us both into darkness. She makes a tiny noise, one of those delicious noises I want to swallow, and I reach over and flick on the lights in the living room.

Hannah stares at me, her one knee tipped in toward the other, the heel of her left foot lifted and even that’s fucking cute.

I step closer, and she’s barely breathing, her chest rising and falling so rapidly, she might hyperventilate.

And I want to make her lose her breath. I want it so bad, my fists ball up again.

I walk past her to the window where she was standing a couple of minutes ago and draw the curtains shut. “I told your brother I would be your bodyguard until you leave town.”

Hannah lets out a breath. “We’ve been over that whole fiasco already. But forgive me, I’d rather not be in the same apartment as you while I’m—” She shakes her head rapidly. “I’m not going there. Oh my God, this is so messed up. Look, Savage. Carter.”

I freeze. I haven’t been called Carter in years. Nobody calls me Carter. “Savage is fine,” I grunt.

“Savage,” she says. “I get that I made a total fool of myself with you, several times, and that you probably despise being around me, but I?—”

“I don’t despise being around you,” I say, before I can stop my idiot fool fucking mouth.

“You don’t?” She scratches her forehead.

I don’t blame her for being confused after what happened a couple of weeks ago, but I’m not going to set her straight, at least not completely. I told her we could never be together, and I never told her why. Because it would give her hope if she knew how much I wanted her, and how terrible it would be for both of us if I followed through.

“I don’t feel anything toward you,” I say, and bring myself to new level of self-loathing.

She claps her hands. “Right. Of course, you do. I mean, don’t.”

“And that is exactly why I’m equipped to make sure that you’re kept safe. I can remain impassive where your brother clearly can’t,” I say.

“You’re not wrong there.” Hannah gives a small smile.

“You don’t like this,” I say. “Neither do I. But it’s going to get your brother off your back, and it would be more comfortable for me to be on your couch than in my SUV.”

I tip my head to the side and trace my gaze down her body. My eyes haven’t caught the memo about not wanting her. Fuck, my entire body hasn’t. She’s tan and tall, her lean legs a temptation in those short pink cotton PJs.

Hannah clears her throat. “I don’t like to share my apartment with anyone.” She circles her couch and stands behind it, putting space between us.

“And if you don’t want to share it with your stalker, you should probably have someone around who can protect you.”

“I have pepper spray,” she says.

“Do you have your escape route planned out?” I ask.

“My what?”

“Your escape route. If you need to run, you have to plan it out, and know that route so well, you could run it in the dark.”

“I—”

“Let’s say you’re woken in the night by the sound of glass breaking. What are you going to do?”

“I… don’t. I mean, probably get out of bed, I would assume.”

“Assuming will get you killed. You need to be prepared.”

“What are you, Ross from Friends? You going to tell me about unagi next?”

“Isn’t that an eel?”

“That’s literally the joke from the show.” She flips her palm out. “And this is the most I’ve heard you talk, like, ever.”

“I give a shit about this.”

She freezes. “About… About what?”

“Self-defense. Keeping people safe. It’s what I do.” Until I failed at it.

“I might not have an escape route planned out, but I’ve been fine up until now.”

“You haven’t had a stalker up until now, correct?”

“Technically,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest. “But hey, I don’t know that for sure. None of us do. There could be somebody stalking me right now.”

“That’s the point.”

“Darn,” she whispers. “That made way more sense in my head.” She points at me. “I’m still mad. But, fine. Whatever. Sleep on the couch. I’m not going to be the girl who lets you sleep in an SUV because of… Anyway, doesn’t matter. Do you need a pillow and a blanket?”

“That would be nice,” I say.

Hannah stares at me for a second, then walks off and stops. She turns back around, fists on her hips. “I don’t like this either,” she says. “I want you to know that. I—I don’t like it either. This isn’t fun for me.”

“I understand.”

“No, you really don’t,” she says. “And I—” Hannah makes a zipping motion over her lips. “I really don’t know you well enough to be blabbing about this.”

“We’ll keep it that way.”

She huffs and throws her hands up before walking down the hall. She stops at the closet next to her bedroom and opens the concertina, slatted door. She mumbles under her breath for a bit then returns with a pillow and a comforter.

I go to take them from her, but she hurriedly plops them on the couch before I can get there. “Are we sure you’re going to fit on this thing?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“Right, you were in the Navy. You probably slept on cots and bunk beds and in bushes and stuff.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Hannah gnaws on the corner of her lip. “I wasn’t that drunk tonight. I had, like, two glasses of wine.”

I let the silence brew. What am I supposed to say to her? I don’t care how much she drinks or when, only that she’s safe. And that there are no men gawking at her, hovering nearby. Asshole.

Hannah puffs out her lips on an exhale. “Right. Goodnight, Savage.”

“Goodnight.” Princess.

And then she walks off to her bedroom and shuts the door. Her bedsprings creak and then she’s still. I walk through the living room and check everything’s locked up tight. Finally, I strip off my shirt and hang it over the back of a stool that flanks her kitchen counter, and cut the lights.

I lay down on the sofa that’s way too small for me, my legs and calves hanging over the edge, my arms behind my head, and wait for my mind to still. Except it won’t.

Because Hannah is right down the hall.