3. Nikita #2
She opens the door, and I can’t help but notice that it was already unlocked. Waving me over, she whispers, “Okay, follow me.”
I do as she says, sticking close behind her as we walk down a wide hallway.
The floors are a dark hardwood with a plush runner that spans the length and softens our footsteps.
I count three closed doors before she opens the next one on the left and steps in.
As soon as I’m inside, she shuts it and flicks on the light.
I don’t even try to hide my curiosity. I want to know every detail about this woman, and now I’m standing in her room, the one place that’s filled top to bottom with her.
I run my eyes over everything I can while also trying very hard to not appear as hungry as I am for knowledge about her.
The room is large, and she’s lucky enough to have an en suite attached to it.
I fight a grin when I see the way she’s using the chair in the corner as a place to throw her clothes.
I can barely make out the arms of it beneath the stack of jeans and shirts.
There’s a bookcase on the wall across from her bed, stuffed to bursting with paperbacks crammed into every available space.
When I see several photos on her dresser, I walk over and pick up the first one.
It’s of her and Cindy, and they look around nine or ten years old.
They’re both grinning at the camera, two small arms locked around each other’s shoulders.
Savanna’s voice is soft when she says, “I see you found my pictures.”
I turn the frame so she can see the one I’m looking at. “You were a very cute kid. It reminds me of the photos I have with my cousins when we were little.”
“I bet you guys had a lot of fun. They all seemed really nice at the wedding. I hadn’t been expecting that,” she says and then quickly adds, “I mean, I didn’t think you’d all be awful or anything.”
When I laugh, she blushes and says, “I’ll just shut up now.”
“You were expecting us all to be like Sasha?” I ask while I put the framed photo back on her dresser.
“No, I knew you weren’t like that after we met at Bean Me Up.”
I can’t resist asking, “What did you think I was like?”
Her blue eyes dart around nervously while I watch her cheeks turn pink. “I thought you were sweet,” she says, and then ducks her head and turns to look at her messy bed. “I’ll find George. I left him around here somewhere.”
I want to ask her if that’s all she thought about me, but I’m momentarily distracted when she bends over to dig through her messy covers.
It’s impossible to not stare at her ass or the curve of her hips.
My eyes follow the line of the low dip of her back, and I nearly groan at the peek-a-boo glimpse of skin I get when she stretches her arms out even more.
She looks over her shoulder, giving me a triumphant smile before pulling a laptop out from under her pillow.
I try my best to hide how badly I want her, but I swear it’s written all over every inch of me, especially the inches that are below my belt.
Her eyes don’t drift lower, though, and when she turns her head, I quickly take advantage of it and sit on the bench at the end of her bed.
The whole room has a feminine scent to it, but I swear it’s stronger the closer I get to her bed—an intoxicating mix of vanilla and citrus that makes me want to lean back and bury my head in her sheets.
Thankfully, I resist the urge and take the battered-looking laptop she hands me, grateful for the distraction. Savanna fucks with my head, but the machine on my lap, I understand. When I open it, the first thing I see is a cracked screen.
I lift a brow at her when she sits down next to me.
She smiles and says, “He deserved it.”
My finger lightly runs over the scratch. “Poor George.”
“Poor George nothing,” she insists. “He wouldn’t start up and I needed to get my assignment done.”
“Did beating the shit out of him help?” I ask.
“That’s beside the point, but it did make me feel a little better. I don’t understand why it doesn’t work for me.”
I don’t comment and instead press the spacebar to wake it up. When it asks for her password, she says, “Sav, one, two, three.”
I stifle my groan and type it in. Feeling more in my element with my fingers on a keyboard again, I start nosing around, and then quickly wish I hadn’t.
“Why do you have forty-two tabs open?”
She shrugs. “I might need them, and I didn’t want to lose my place.”
Keeping my voice calm, I click on some of the tabs, noticing that several of them are playing videos that have been paused, while several others are shopping sites that have been up for weeks.
When a pop-up jumps out, screaming at me that there’s a virus and I need to click the red button for help, I ask, “Do you get these a lot?”
“Yep.”
I keep my voice neutral when I ask, “And do you click on them when you do?”
Instead of answering me, she scrunches her brow and asks, “Am I not supposed to?”
I do the same thing she did and ignore her question and ask one of my own. “When was the last time you updated it?”
“It doesn’t do that automatically?”
I’m torn between cringing and wanting to laugh. Minimizing her tabs, I stare at the cluttered desktop screen. Icons litter every available surface. I see names like Final, Final Final, Final for Realsies, and a soft sigh escapes my lips.
“You don’t use folders?”
She points at the icons on the screen. “These are folders.”
I bite my tongue before asking, “Where do you save all your classwork?”
“On the computer.”
I laugh before I can stop it. She gives me an embarrassed smile. “I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?”
“Terrible,” I agree. I hold up her laptop. “This is a nightmare, Van. It’s going to haunt me tonight when I try to sleep.”
“Do you think you can fix it?”
“I don’t think anything can fix this,” I admit. “Maybe a sledgehammer and some gasoline. This poor thing needs to be put out of its misery. I feel guilty for stirring it back to life and making it work. It’s begging me for mercy.”
“I still need it, though,” she says. “I can’t write my papers on my phone’s screen. That’ll drive me crazy.”
“I’m buying you a new one,” I tell her. “As a hacker, this hurts me on a soul level. I can’t in good conscience allow you to keep using this.”
“No way,” she quickly says. “I can’t accept that, Niki. It’s way too much.”
I can see the stubborn glint in her eyes, and I know her pride won’t let her accept the expensive gift from me, so I say, “What if I just give you one of my old laptops? I never use it. It just sits around, but it’s still in great condition.”
She hesitates as her eyes drift down to the cracked screen on my lap.
Music is softly playing from one of the million tabs she has open, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if the machine starts smoking and combusts right on my lap.
I don’t mention that I’m going to be monitoring her bank account because if she’s used her debit or credit card to buy anything on this thing, it’s most definitely compromised.
“Do you really think it’s going to die soon? Is there any way it could last a bit longer?”
I hate to kill the hopeful tone of her voice, but there’s no point in lying about this. “I’m begging you to not use this thing ever again. It’s riddled with viruses, and I’m honestly surprised it’s still running at all. Please let me give you my old computer.”
“I’ll borrow it,” she insists, “until I can afford to get my own.”
“You can have it for however long you need,” I tell her, knowing it’s the best I’m going to get out of her.
She doesn’t need to know that I’m hitting the Apple Store as soon as they open and buying her a brand-new computer. She needs something reliable, and the machine on my lap is definitely not it.
With that taken care of, there’s really no reason for me to be here, but I can’t bring myself to get up and leave, so instead I look around and ask, “Do you like living here and being in the sorority?”
“It’s way better than the dorms,” she says. “It’s nice to have my own room and bathroom, and the other girls are pretty nice. My mom was a sorority member back in the day, and she always dreamed I’d join one day too.”
“I bet she’s proud of you,” I tell her.
She grins and points at one of the framed photos on her dresser.
It looks like her high school graduation.
She’s in her school’s robes, sandwiched in between her mom and dad while she holds up her diploma.
Her mom is an older version of her, and her dad is beaming at the camera, answering the question of who Van gets her dimple from, and he’s clearly proud of his wife and daughter.
His hair is darker than theirs, and he’s wearing glasses and a dress shirt and slacks, making him look like the supervisor I know he is.
“I get my computer skills from them. They’re even worse than I am,” she says, making me laugh.
“That’s very hard for me to believe,” I say, grinning when she nudges my arm with hers.
There isn’t much space between us, and when my eyes drift down to her mouth, I know I need to back up or risk making a complete fool of myself.
Savanna has probably had guys lining up to date her since she was in high school.
She’d probably laugh her ass off if she knew I was constantly teased in school for being a tech geek.
I’ve always been able to hold my own in a fight, but having Sasha as a cousin guaranteed I never had to when I was younger.
My one and only romantic partner in life has always been my right hand.
The shame I feel at that has me turning away from Savanna’s slightly parted lips while I shut her computer and then hand it back to her.
“I should get going,” I tell her. “I’ll bring you my old computer in the morning, okay?”
She seems surprised when I stand and reposition the strap of my messenger bag.
“Okay. I have a class at ten, but I’ll be here before then, or I can meet you later. Whatever’s easiest.”
I know all about her educational psychology class, and the path she always walks to get there, but I don’t mention any of that. She doesn’t need to know I watch her constantly. I’ll save that revelation for another day.
Even though there are a million things I need to be doing right now, my feet are rooted to the fluffy pink rug on her floor because leaving her is the last thing I want to do.
She stands up, and even though she must be around five-six, I’m still a good seven inches taller than her.
It’s a nice difference, though, and I know if I were to pull her close to me, she could nuzzle against my neck perfectly.
Stalling for time, I say, “Thanks for sneaking me in.”
“Thanks for taking a look at my computer, and for letting me borrow your old one.”
“Sorry I couldn’t bring it back to life. Maybe if I’d gotten my hands on it a year ago, it might’ve had a chance.” I can’t help but grin and add, “But I doubt it. It’s in pretty bad shape.”
She gets a horrified look on her face before she asks, “What if I ruin yours? What if I accidentally break it?” Her eyes dart to where George is lying on her bed. “You’ve seen firsthand what I’m capable of.”
She’s not wrong. The woman is definitely capable of killing a laptop, but I don’t want her worrying about it, so despite all my instincts to keep my baby safe, I pat my leather bag and ask, “Would it make you feel better if I showed you a few things?”
The dimple in her cheek is clearly visible with the smile she gives me, and when I pull my bag free and start to open it, she sits down and pats the seat beside her.
She’s lit up with excitement as I pull out my computer.
Everything I have on here that I don’t want her to see is well hidden, and there’s no way she can hurt it if I’m right here with her.
At least that’s what I tell myself as I open it and prepare to let someone else touch the machine that feels very much like a part of me.
I’ve always been absurdly protective of it, and I’ve never liked the idea of anyone poking around on it.
Sharing it with Savanna feels like I’m baring my soul to her.
I could strip down naked right now and not feel as exposed as I do when I open it and then set it on her lap.
As uncomfortable as it makes me, I do it for her.
Something tells me I’d be willing to do just about anything for her.