CHAPTER TWO #3
I swear there’s relief when she gives me a smile. It lights up her eyes.
“Good. I’m going to make pancakes in the morning the way you like.”
The corner of my mouth quirks while I watch her prop a hand against the door and lift her right foot to reach for the thin strap at her ankle.
“Shouldn’t I be making you breakfast?” I tease, crouching in front of her and brushing her hand aside.
She straightens and watches me capture the back of her foot with one hand.
“You can, if you like,” she murmurs.
I slip the piece through the hook and gingerly free her from the sexy death traps. I set the shoe aside, ease her foot down and reach for the other foot.
“What would you like?” I ask.
“Pancakes.”
The amusement in her voice has my head lifting. Our eyes meet and I return her grin.
“You know I can’t make them as good as you do.”
Her smile is playful when she replies, “I know. That’s why I was going to make them.”
I snort. “Brat.”
I return my focus to the band and peel the shoe off. It’s placed next to the other one before I push to my feet.
And find her right there. Mere inches. Head tipped back.
Eyes on my face with an expectancy that makes me throb.
Without her shoes, she’s even smaller. The hand I had tucked between her legs barely fifteen minutes ago burns with the memory of her heat.
Her moisture. I know if I reach beneath her skirt, she’ll still be so wet, so ready for me.
“We can’t do this,” I blurt to both of us.
“Why?” she whispers, and fuck if I know.
The sweet, warm scent of her fills my head, drowns my senses. Makes me momentarily forget why I’m not kissing the lips she’s offering so willingly.
“You know why,” I tell her, trying to avoid her mouth and drowning in her eyes. “I’m too old for you. Your dad is my best friend. You deserve someone who won’t have the entire town talking about you.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “You’re not that old.”
“Ten years is a lot,” I mutter. “Plus, I’ve known you since you were a kid. People won’t understand.”
Chrissy rolls her eyes. “In a week, they’ll forget and move on to something else.”
I disagree.
I may not have been born and raised in Jefferson but I watch and I’m a fast learner. I’ve seen how the people react to things they consider unfit. Ours may not get a ton of backlash, but there will be enough to hurt Chrissy and that’s enough for me to put my foot down.
Try to.
“Do you want me?” Her quiet question is a murmur that fills the cavity of my chest.
It pounds between my ears. My fingers bunch to keep from touching her.
“Go to bed, Chrissy,” I say instead, aware of the plea in my voice.
But her eyes have turned molten. There’s defiance in the tilt of her chin that fills me with equal measures of pride and dread.
“Why won’t you answer?”
In all the times I’ve watched her stand toe to toe with Mark and demand he treat her like an adult, I never once saw myself on the receiving end. I don’t even know how to answer that without telling her the truth.
So, I do what any cornered animal would do, I scowl down at her and snap, “Because I can’t. Because I’m trying to protect you.”
My beautiful terror scrunches her eyebrows and purses her lips. “I don’t need protection from you.”
While I’m thrilled to hear that, she still isn’t getting it.
“You really want to be the talk of Jefferson?”
If my logic strikes a chord, she doesn’t show it. Her expression only grows all the more provoking.
“I didn’t take you for a coward.”
My outrage is quick, but lingering. Taking too much time to process when the little demon stalks around me and charges in the direction of the stairs.
Logic tells me to let her go. She’s headed in the direction I told her to go and we’re free of this conversation. That’s all that matters. In a small way, I kind of won this round. It’s a victory. Maybe now she’ll realize what a mistake I would be and...
My legs follow after her before I can finish patting myself on the back. The tail end of her skirt is already sweeping around the corner, moving out of sight down the dark corridor. Despite her head full of steam, her strides are light.
I’m not so lucky.
I’m two hundred pounds of muscle and rage, a wildebeest crashing through a china shop.
I haven’t even taken my shoes off and fucking Mark has hardwood stairs like a true asshole.
He’s giving me no choice but to take a million years tiptoeing after his daughter without alerting him to my intentions, which I haven’t decided on.
Putting her over my knee has crossed my mind.
Coward.
The absolute audacity.
I’m a lot of things, but a coward isn’t one of them. If anything, she should be thanking me for wanting to protect her, not call me names.
At the landing, I pause just long enough to listen for Mark’s blaring war alarm snoring before creeping past his room to the second last one at the end of the hall.
I do consider I’m overstepping, acting insane, but I’m already at her door, fist raised high to knock when it flies open and I’m face to face with Chrissy in nothing but a towel.