Chapter 3 Avery
AVERY
Chris drives like he does everything else. With control, precision. He barely looks but is aware of everything around him.
I watch his hands on the wheel. Strong, clean, with tiny scars on his knuckles that I wouldn’t imagine a consultant to have. Maybe he likes to practice boxing?
Every time we stop at a light, he glances at his mirrors. Side, rearview, then side again, almost like a ritual. Or maybe a compulsive habit.
I should be fearful, but I find him devastatingly attractive.
“You’re staring at me,” he says without turning his head, a tiny hint of a smirk on his tight lips.
“I’m…studying. Not staring.”
“Studying, huh? And what have you concluded?”
I shrug. “You check your mirrors more than anyone I know. You’re a very careful driver.”
Silence. His jaw moves, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “Just a habit,” he finally says. “Working security makes you cautious.”
“I see.” I nod. “That makes sense.”
He glances at me. It’s a brief look, but it goes right through me, past my next question, past all the small talk, past the sundress I settled on after changing three times this morning. It touches something deep inside my chest, causing my heart to flutter like a butterfly’s wings.
“You ask a lot of questions, you know?”
“You dodge a lot of them,” I reply. “You know?”
Again, he almost smiles. “That’s fair.”
He doesn’t drive me to a restaurant. He takes me through Gaslamp, then along the waterfront to a part of the Embarcadero I’ve never been too. He parks on a stretch of old pier that’s half-abandoned, then leads me on foot to a small taco stand with a hefty line.
I try not to stare at him, but I fail.
He dwarfs me in height. I feel so small standing next to him, which has me all warm inside. I’m starting to get flushed, and there’s a heat between my thighs moving up, deeper into my core.
As we step up to the stand, the smell of charred meat, lime, and tacos fills the air, making my mouth water. There’s no sign. No menu board. Just a couple of guys behind the window and a couple at the grill.
“So cool.” I smile. “How do you know about this place?”
“Just looking around. I like to know the places off the beaten path.”
Of course he does. Chris probably has every inch of San Diego mapped out. Every back alley, every one-way street, every private club and places not listed online. Most people would find that sketchy, but I find it…
Either thrilling or worrying. Or maybe a combination of both.
He orders for us both—two fish tacos for me, and two chicken for him with guac. We eat them on a bench looking over the water. The sun is high, but it’s not too hot, and the bay is glittering. It feels like something out of a movie.
Chris has his shirt sleeves rolled up, which means I can see most of his tattoo. Lines and angles in faded ink, climbing his bicep and disappearing behind the fabric. I want to pull his sleeve up, examine it fully, ask him what it means.
But of course I don’t do that. Not yet.
“Chris, tell me something real about you,” I ask, finishing my second taco. “Just one thing that isn’t about security consulting.”
He takes a bite and swallows, looking out over the water. He’s going to deflect again. Pivot to a question about me, or reply with some answer you’d expect from a politician that says everything and nothing all at once.
“You ever heard of people who don’t sleep much? I’m one of them.”
There’s a truth to his tone that I didn’t expect. “How much is not much?”
“Four hours.” He shrugs. “Sometimes less. My mind’s always running, I guess.”
“Oh, yeah? And what keeps it running?”
He turns his eyes to me, and I go into free-fall. “Honestly? You.”
Oh no.
Oh my God.
My cheeks go hot so fast I’m sure he sees it. Blushing hard, I look down as my hands start to tremble.
This is stupid. I’m a grown woman. I can vote, I have a job, I pay taxes, make my own appointments, and yet a simple compliment from this man has me on the verge of crumbling.
Crumbling into a blushing pile of pieces of Avery.
No man has ever looked at me like Chris is looking at me right now. And after the way he started—so closed-off and defensive—his admission to me is shocking.
“I…I’ve been thinking about you too,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper. “But there’s something I want to tell you…”
He gaze drops to my lips, hangs there for a moment, then moves back to my eyes. My whole body is scorching. The weight of his eyes is like a physical touch.
“What’s that, Avery?”
Oh God, what am I doing? How can I confess my lack of experience to a man like Chris? If I tell him now, he’ll just get back into his car and leave. What would a competent man like him want with an inexperienced girl like me?
“N-never mind,” I mutter, shaking my head. I look away. I’m screwing this up bigtime. But to my surprise, he leans in, putting himself in my field of vision.
He looks at me like he knows me. Like I’m already special to him. And right then, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me.
He doesn’t.
He takes me by the hand and walks with me, his fingers knitted between mine. Not overly tight or possessive, just firm. Non-negotiable. My pulse is pounding against the inside of his thumb, and I know he can feel it. He knows what he’s doing to me.
So, why hasn’t he made a move? I may not have been on any dates, but I know enough from Jules that most guys would have tried to put their hands on me by now—on…other places.
“You’re old fashioned, huh?” I say, looking up at him. “For a man who forced me to go to lunch with him.”
“Forced? Nah, I didn’t force you. You wanted to come.”
I twist my lips, trying not to smile too wide. Yeah, he got me there.
A block from the car, he stops and turns to face me. Standing this close, my hand wrapped in his, I can see the tension in his face. Something he’s holding back.
“Avery, listen to me,” he says, his voice low. “You always have a choice with me. Understand?”
“Yes.” I nod. Where is this going?
“If you want me to take you home right now, I will. But if you don’t…”
My heart beats faster. I shake my head. “I don’t want you to take me home.”
Something almost like relief moves through his expression. No, maybe it’s hunger—or both. He gently rubs my wrist with his thumb, sending a delightful shiver through my body.
How did I end up with an Adonis like this touching me?
“Good. Because I don’t want to either.”
We stand there for a moment—a long moment—just staring at each other, his thumb on the pulse of my wrist while the city hums around us. The world feels pressurized. Charged like a bomb ready to explode.
Chris’s eyes are so blue that with the light glancing off them, they’re almost silver. His broad chest rises and falls, and I can’t stop myself from admiring his physique.
I can also see the effort he’s putting into not getting closer.
But I want him to!
I want it so badly that my lips part on their own. His gaze moves down to my mouth and remains there, his face firm as his grip on my hand tightens.
Again, he doesn’t kiss me.
It’s like he’s doing this on purpose. Making me wait so when he finally does, I’ll simply explode with relief.
“Come on,” he finally says, pulling me toward the car. We only make it a few steps when it happens.
Two men step out of a side alley. One is lean and twitchy, grinding his teeth like he’s on something. The other is wide-eyed and focused. Both of them have knives in their hands.
“Gimme your fucking wallet!” the twitchy one snaps, raising the knife toward Chris. His voice is sickly, and my body goes cold immediately. I freeze as panic sweeps through me.
Chris does not freeze.
“Why don’t you two just turn around, okay?” It’s not quite a question. More of a command that sounds like one. He’s completely unrattled.
“Turn around?” the other man laughs. “Why don’t you gimme your wallet!?”
What happens next happens almost instantaneously.
Chris steps aside, drawing the men away from me.
One lunges in with his blade, but Chris’s left hand whips up, catching the man by the wrist. In one swift motion, I hear something pop, followed by the man screaming.
The knife falls to the ground. The other man cries out and rushes forward.
Chris drives his foot into the man’s stomach, folding him in half.
He falls beside his companion, gasping for breath. With a simple movement, Chris kicks their knives away.
It’s all over before my brain could even process it starting.
Chris’s speed, his comfort with violence, his stoicism—it should terrify me. I should probably run.
Instead, a dark heat blooms deep within me. I want to throw myself into his arms.
God, what is wrong with me?
Ignoring the men writhing on the ground, Chris turns to me. This time, he doesn’t go for my hand. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, leading me away from the scene and over to the car.
“You all right?” he asks. Of course I am. I wasn’t even touched.
I nod. “Because of you.”
I look up and see real concern in his eyes. The man who just dismantled two armed attackers is actually worried now, not because of them, but because I might have been hurt.
“That was…amazing,” I say, still in awe.
“As long as they didn’t touch you.” I breathe deep, cementing his scent into my lungs. There’s a hint of his sweat there now, which is like the cherry on top of the sundae.
I know now that whatever Chris does for a living, it’s definitely not security consulting. The way he moved, the way he took those two apart with such ease—that’s something only a man who has done it countless times before can do.
He looks at me now, still scanning my body for damage, holding me close like my own personal protector.
The realization should change things. But I push it away for later. Right now, all I can focus on is Chris. “Take me to your place,” I tell him.