No, I don’t like this at all.
Her face is still pale when I open her door, but she loses even more color when the stench wafts over. If it’s offensive to me, I can only imagine how much stronger it is to her. “You doing okay there, little mama?”
A sweet smile flashes at the moniker before she covers her nose with her hands. “I can make it. It’s not too far.”
It doesn’t help, but I lean in to block as much of the smell as I can. And now I’m close enough to nuzzle her neck, but I stop myself. “Which one’s yours?”
“That one—ohmigod!” Her eyes widen. “My door’s open!”
Vision sharpening, I pivot and scan the doors. There are at least three that aren’t completely closed. “Which one?”
“The upstairs corner one. God, why is everything happening to me today? I swear, I try to live a good life, I really do. Why, freakin’why?”
Now I reallydon’t like this place. “Let me go take a look. Stay in here and lock the doors.”
Her hand grabs my forearm. “It’s probably nothing. My...Silas”—the word crawls out of her mouth—“likely forgot to close it all the way. You kinda have to pull it hard because it’s stubborn.”
She’s touching me. Damn, her hand is so tiny compared to me.Focus, Connor. Focus.“I’m gonna be honest with you, Rosanna. This doesn’t seem to be the safest of places.” I nod meaningfully towards someone shooting up in plain view with no care of being watched.
“I don’t even want to leave you here, but I know this is your home.” For just a short while longer.“Even if...he“—now it’s my turn to grit out the word—“left it open, somebody could still be in there. At the very least, I’m going to take a good look around, and then I’ll walk you up if it’s safe.”
“I can’t wait here! Between the garbage and the way your truck smells...” She grimaces in apology. “Sorry. Not that it’s bad, but I don’t think my stomach can take any more throwing up. Not right now, at least.”
Searching her stormy gray eyes, I see the truth in them. She couldn’t even wear my jacket for the same reason. “You stay right behind me, then, and hold onto my belt loops.”
“Okay.”
She moves to get out, but I grab her chin and deepen my voice. “I mean it. Donotlet go.”
“I won’t. I’ll be closer than your own shadow.”
If only. Reluctantly releasing her chin, I offer her my hand and help her down. “Belt loops.”
“Now? We’re still by the truck.”
“Now,” I affirm. Did she just roll her eyes at me? The sassiness of this woman, even when she’s not feeling well. My lips tuck around a grin as she huffs out a sigh.
I love it.
Satisfied when I feel the pressure of her fingers, I lock the truck and lead her to the suspiciously wobbly stairs. My unease grows even more when I see just how short the railing is when we get to the top. It barely reaches above mid-thigh on her! If she were fully pregnant, it’d be all too easy for her to tumble over if she lost her balance.
Good thing she won’t be here long enough for that to become a possibility. Now I just need to figure out the logistics of getting her away. “Holding tight?”
“Holding tight.”
A few steps later, and we’re in. Muffling the noise of the bells on her door that caught me by surprise, I flip the light switch up and survey the place Rosanna calls home. It’s shabby, but clean, with a little vase of artificial flowers on the small kitchen table that has two mismatched chairs underneath it. And a picture—fuck. A picture of her and Silas.
Avert your eyes, Connor.
It’s a little chilly in here, but the window unit and space heater hint to the lack of central air conditioning. Next to the heater, a sad excuse of a couch has clearly seen better days. And the flooring, too. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if the cracked linoleum and mud-brown carpet was the original flooring from at least the sixties. Maybe earlier.
Her footsteps sound behind me as we move to the bathroom off the living room. Its door is pulled to, so I give it a forceful push. It smacks against the wall and bounces back, making Rosanna flinch, but no one’s behind it. A quick yank of the panda-patterned shower curtain reveals the same thing. Empty.
Two steps bring us back to the main living area. Now there’s only one room left. And it is, ironically, to my left. My muscles tense as I prepare myself for what’s inside the shadowy room. Not for the possibility of an intruder hiding in there, but for the bed. The bed where she doesn’t sleep alone. I grit my teeth imagininghimwrapped around her, holding her tight and—No. Don’t think about it.
I reach back and pat her hand in reassurance. “Almost done.” Her fingers curl in response, nails inadvertently scratching my back through my shirt. I fight back a shiver and a twitch to my cock. Damn, why does something so simple feel so good?
Keep it in your pants, Connor.
