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“Get out.” I throw the car in park and unlock her passenger door. “Go.”
Her wary eyes hold mine, and she hesitates before her hand lands on the door handle.
“Run,” I urge her.
She opens the door, one leg out, eyes pinning me to my seat, daring me to beg her to stay, or worse: chase her. She opens her succulent lips, as if to say something, but decides against it.
And then she takes off.
“Fuck,” I shout.
I step out of the car, watching her legs take her as fast as they can through the countryside.
She makes it into a thicket of bushes and out of sight as I check my watch.
I lean against the hood of the car, crossing my ankles and pull out my phone. After returning a few emails, I glance up.
And then, there she is, and I can’t breathe.
She sees me, and tears fill her eyes, and I rush to her, swooping her up to cradle her in my arms.
“I’ve got you.” I carry her and place her in the passenger seat of the car.
“You done trying to run away from me?” I ask when I pull into the driveway of my house.
She doesn't look at me. “Yeah, I’m not going to make it very far on foot.”
I carry her into the house and straight into her bathroom.
I set her down and move to draw her a bath. “Get undressed.”
She doesn't move. Just watches me with large questioning eyes that pierce me right in the chest. Because I can't answer what she wants to know. I squeeze a few drops of some bubble bath shit sitting on the edge of the tub into the water.
“Get undressed,” I repeat.
She hesitates. “I can take my own bath.”
The dark smudges under her eyes are making me want to take care of her; protect her. It's a feeling I've repressed since she's been around me. A feeling I used to succumb to regularly when we were kids. Rescue the princess. She never knew the number of assholes I punched in the face defending her honor.
“You’re tired.”
She waves me off. “I’m fine.”
I sit on the edge of the tub, dipping my fingers in to check the water.
“Do I need to help you?”
She grabs the hem of her shirt, exposing her toned stomach, and before she can raise it over her head, she stops. “Turn around, please.”
My heart slams against the confines of my chest. My dick springs to life, begging for one touch of her.
I stand and turn my back to her, closing my hungry eyes and denying them the chance to feast upon her.
A little splash lets me know she’s in the tub.
“Ok, you can turn around now,” she whispers.
When I turn back, her body is hidden beneath a mound of foam. Damn, the bubbles were a bad idea.
