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I don’t.
“It’s fine, Michael,” Hannah warns, putting a hand on my stomach. “Come on,” she says softly. “I’ll walk you out.”
I step out onto the landing, shooting Michael a wink before I go and Hannah follows, oblivious. She shuts the front door behind her quietly, pausing to wrap her arms around herself a few feet back.
“You going to be okay here by yourself?”
There’s a twinkle in her eyes. A flash so quick I almost don’t notice it.
Fear. Worry?
“I’ll be okay. Michael will probably be here . . . and the guards.”
There’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before and now, I can’t get the taste of her lips off my tongue.
“He your boyfriend?”
She narrows her gaze. “No.”
“You sure he knows that?”
“Michael’s been my best friend since we were kids. We grew up together. He’s just acting like a protective older brother.”
Yeah, sure he is.
She chuckles sheepishly. “Guess I better let you go. I know you said you get up early.”
I nod, though it was a lie to get her away from me. Back when I could fucking think rationally.
“Yeah.”
I shove my hands in my pockets because if I don’t, I run the risk of reaching for her.
She looks up at me with those big green eyes and those freckles on her nose under the pale glow of the porch light and all I can think about is how badly I want to taste her again.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”
She smiles softly. I’m digging my own grave.
. . . I can taste her on my tongue. Feel her in my veins like heroin.
It’s become a problem I’m not sure I’m man enough to handle.
“Goodnight, little doe.”
I turn and leave before she can pull me back in.
Tomorrow. I’ll come back tomorrow.
I drive home in silence, the trek from Bel Air to North Inglewood seeming to pass by in a blur because I can’t get her out of my head. Not to mention, the shit Melissa is on, Parker, what her mother’s going to do when she finds out I had her precious daughter in the palm of my hand.
I scrub a hand through my hair and I’m annoyed to find my hand shaking. Fucking hell.
Tomorrow, I’ll put an end to this . . . if I can. I’ll check on her and then back off because while it feels like Hannah fucking Gaines was made for me, I know she wasn’t.
I resign myself to the fact that shit just fucking sucks when I get home, parking in the drive in front of my house. What used to be Dad’s house.
The place is small, especially compared to the Gaines’ estate, but it’s home. It’s where I grew up until Dad passed and it’s where I’ve lived since Gran signed it over to me beforeshepassed. It’s got everything I need. Three bedrooms. A nice backyard. It’s right across the alleyway from the shop, so the commute can’t be beat and it even has a garage out back where Dad’s old Challenger is stored.
