My face flushes. When will I learn? He isn’t going to give way on this. He’s decided he’s going to stay professional, and Ineed to get used to it, or I’m just going to keep embarrassing myself.
*
For the next few days, I don’t talk about anything personal. I refrain from asking him too many questions, and keep my feelings locked behind steel bars.
It’s more difficult on Wednesday, when we have another self-defense session before our gym workout. This time, he shows me what to do if a guy grabs me from behind, repeatedly putting an arm around my waist and pulling me back against him. It’s much harder to remain aloof when you’re pressed against a six-foot-four warm male body. His cologne invades my senses, and it’s impossible not to fantasize about him lowering his lips to my neck, or about his hands wandering over my body.
But he continues to remain professional, and I’m pretty certain that by the end of the session I’m the only one who’s flushed and worked up by our forced proximity.
I consider cancelling the date with Ivan, but as Friday nears, I think oh what the hell. I haven’t been out with anyone for ages. I also really miss sex. Not that I’m expecting it on the first date, but it would be nice to have the option if things go well.
I’m not sure how I’ll navigate it with Luke trailing along behind me. The thought of him insisting on going into a potential partner’s apartment so he can check it out before we enter makes me want to curl up like a spider. I can also imagine the look on his face if I said I wanted to go back to Ivan’s place. That ironic lift of his eyebrow, and that gleam in his eyes that gives me goose bumps and suggests he’s feeling growly and possessive.
He wants to stay professional, and that’s fine, but what does that mean for me? I can’t spend the rest of my life tooafraid to date another guy because I have a six-foot-four shadow glaring at me. He can’t play dog in the manger. If he’s going to insist on keeping his distance, he’ll have to get used to me dating other guys.
So when Friday arrives, on the way back to my apartment at five p.m., I say breezily, “I’m off on my date tonight.”
“Hope you have a nice time,” he replies. Is his voice curt? Or is that just his natural brusqueness? It’s hard to tell.
“I’ll be leaving around six-thirty,” I announce.
“I’ll let Stacy know.”
I blink. “Stacy?”
“Yeah. She’ll be your CPO tonight.”
“Oh… are you busy, then?”
He gives me an amused look. “I already work twelve hours most days. I am allowed to have a private life.”
“I thought when you finished at the end of the day they locked you in a box in the security office, and you stayed there until the morning.”
He gives a short laugh, but inside my stomach flips. “Do you have a date?” I ask softly. Would he tell me if he had?
He shakes his head, though. “Nah. There’s a Super Rugby game on at seven. It’ll be pizza and a beer, and I’ll probably doze off by nine p.m.”
“Sounds fantastic, actually.” My voice is a little wistful. “I miss nights like those with someone.”
But he just snorts. “You say that now, but you’ll have fun tonight, I’m sure.”
I look out of the window. I should have cancelled the date. I was only going on it to make him jealous.
Jesus, I’m such an idiot.
Chapter Ten
Luke
I drove home from dropping off Aurelia, my stomach wound into sharp knots like tangled barbed wire.
It’s been a frustrating week. Despite her gym work, she doesn’t have a clue about how to defend herself, and the self-defense lessons are an essential part of keeping her safe. But it’s been fucking torture having to be so close to her.
First there’s the physical part of it. My hands on the soft, smooth skin of her arms, or the curve of her waist. The smell of her perfume. The glow of her skin when she gets warm, and the attractive flush in her cheeks. The gleam in her green eyes when I push her to the point where she steps up her game.
But it’s also just being in her presence. I love how feisty she is, how spirited. I adore how she teases me, even though it makes my job ten times more difficult. I feel a strong surge of protectiveness every time I think of Dom grabbing her wrist, and his statement that he didn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want done.Mostly. I want to ask her what he meant by that, but I daren’t. Because if she tells me he did something to her in the bedroom that she didn’t want done, I’ll have to go to his office and kill the motherfucker.
I’m developing a serious crush on her, and that is bad, bad news. I can’t protect her if I’m constantly daydreaming about pressing my nose into her hair to smell her perfume or kissing her neck. I’m not a bouncer at a bar, or a security guard standing outside a jewelry shop. Her life could well be in danger, and Marcus has entrusted me with her safety. Ihaveto remain professional, for both our sakes, because if I slip up, it could have disastrous consequences, and I’d never recover from that.
