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"I’m merely giving you privacy to get dressed. Isn’t that what a gentleman would do?"
"But you’re not a gentleman."
"No, I’m not."But I’m going to try.I lower my hand to my side, then roll my shoulders. "Are you dressed yet?"
"What’s the hurry?"
"Are you decent, Abby?" I snap.
"I am now." I hear the frustration in her voice, turn, and take in how the sweatshirt hangs to the middle of her thighs. Her jeans are baggy enough that no hint of the outline of her body is visible. She’s pulled on socks and sneakers…which is fine. I’ll allow that. It doesn’t reveal any part of her body, so she’s okay.
"I look ridiculous," she pouts. And the sight of those pink lips puckered up, sends a throb of desire pulsing through my veins.Fucking hell, who knew being virtuous was going to be so fucking difficult?
I jerk my chin in her direction, then brush past her and head toward the doorway of the bedroom. At the threshold, I stop and look over my shoulder.
"Aren’t you coming?"
"Aren’t you changing out of those wet clothes?" she shoots back.
I blink. My Sparrow holding her own against me is a fucking turn on. I frown. Now that I’ve promised myself I won’t make love to her, all of my thoughts seem to be focused on just that.Typical.
"I don’t have clothes here."
"Fine, then. Goodbye." She brushes past me and heads toward the kitchen.
I pull up my jaw from where it’s dropped to the floor and follow her. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"Making some tea. Do you want some?" She reaches for the kettle and fills it with water, before plugging it in and turning it on. The gurgling of the water fills the space.
I open and shut my mouth. Then, because old habits die hard, I stalk toward the kettle and pull out the plug. The sound cuts out.
"What are you doing?" She frowns.
"You can have tea at my place."
She folds her arms across her chest. "I’m not coming to your place.”
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not."
I grit my teeth. "I’m not leaving you here on your own—not after your stalker broke in and assaulted you."
"I opened the door for him, actually, and—"
"The fuck!" I glare at her. "You opened the fucking door and let him in?"
She shuffles her feet. "I uh, did look through the peephole, but he was dressed like a delivery guy, so—"
"So, all the more reason you need to come with me."
"I’m not coming with you." She juts out her chin.
"Yes, you are. In fact, you’re moving in with me."
"What?" She gapes.
"You’re not staying here, Abby." I try to modulate my tone so it sounds reasonable, but it only comes out sounding angry.
