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I’m not used to being at war with myself like this. The rational side of me knows that she’s a client and that I need to keep my hands to myself. I’m supposed to be keeping her safe, not trying to get my dick wet.
The newer side of me though is screaming at me that she’s meant to be mine. That I need to claim her and mark her so that she can never get away from me.
“This is it,” she says, dragging another suitcase and a smaller duffel bag behind her.
I take both from her and load them into my SUV.
“You need to turn your phone off,” I tell her when I turn around and catch her texting someone.
“I’m just texting Arlowe. I don’t want her to worry about me when she comes back here and I’m gone.”
“I’ll text her. Turn your phone off until I can check it for bugs or trackers.”
She sighs but shuts it down and passes it to me.
“I’m going to keep you safe,” I tell her, my voice firm and serious.
She studies me for a moment and then nods.
“I know that you are. I trust you,” she says quietly and I lead her over to the passenger seat.
That shouldn’t mean so much to me, but it does. I want her to trust me. I want her to turn to me if she needs anything.
Someone to chase away the bad guys? I’ll be there.
Someone to keep her safe? I’m the man for the job.
Someone to make her come so many times that she passes out? Yeah, that’s still me.
Except it can’t be,I remind myself as I climb behind the wheel.
The drive across town to my place is quick. There’s never really any traffic around here. I keep sneaking glances at my curvy girl as we drive. She’s staring out the window, smiling wistfully as we pass a few shops.
“You grew up here, right?” I ask her.
“Yeah. It’s weird being back after all of this time. So much has changed, but not really, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say as we turn onto my street.
I stop at the gate and punch in the code, checking my surroundings for anyone new or anything out of place.
We drive through the gate, and I circle around the converted warehouse that I call home. There’s a garage under the building and I drive in and park.
“I’ll get your bags,” I tell her as we hop out.
She nods distractedly, looking around the place. My house isn’t much to look at on the outside. Beige cement makes up the walls and garage.
I grab her bags and lead her over to the elevator on the center wall. I punch in the code and we ride up to my place in silence.
I can feel the curiosity rolling off of her in waves and I grip her bags tighter. I hope that she likes this place, but if she doesn’t, I’ll buy her whatever house she wants as long as she stays with me.
The elevator doors open and we step out.
“Whoa,” she says, spinning in a circle to take the place in.
I live on the entire top floor of the warehouse and it spreads out in all directions around us. Windows line all of the walls, letting in the sunlight. We’re the highest building around, so I’m not worried about anyone looking in the windows.
It’s an open concept place with dark hardwood floors and light green walls. I didn’t pick the colors, but I don’t hate them enough to change it.
