Chapter 1 #2
The security system beeped a warning as he stepped inside, and he juggled Rina as he closed the door and disengaged the alarm. Rina blinked up at him as he made his way through the living room and down the hall. “What are you doing?”
“Putting you to bed.” He used his elbow to flick on the light as he carried her into her bedroom. She swayed as he stood her on her feet next to the bed. “Your boots are still in my truck. Do you want me to get them?”
She waved his offer away. “No. I need to use the bathroom.”
She stumbled in that direction, and he waited awkwardly in the bedroom, trying to ignore the sound of her using the toilet. Water flushed, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank God. Now she could go to bed, and he could go home.
His hopes went up in smoke when he heard the shower come on. “Seriously, Rina?”
Growling in frustration, he stormed toward the bathroom. He stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway, stunned, as he took in Rina standing under the spray of the shower, fully clothed.
“What are you doing?”
She turned those giant blue eyes on him. “Washing off. What does it look like?”
He stared at her for a long moment, barely fighting back the urge to tell her exactly what he thought. “Come on, let’s just get you to bed.”
“Hold on,” she complained. “I’m almost done.”
He waited for about half a second before he stomped across the room and flicked off the water with a quick turn of his wrist. “Now.”
“All right, all right. Jeez.”
But instead of climbing from the shower, her hands moved toward the button of her shorts, and she shimmied the soaked denim over her hips and down her legs, taking a pair of skimpy pale pink panties with them.
He quickly averted his eyes and grabbed a towel from the rack, holding it in front of him like a shield.
God give him strength. He wasn’t gonna lie—Rina without clothes was something else. Not that she’d ever know it, but he’d lusted over her hard for the past twelve days, ever since he’d been hired on.
It was his first job since his honorable discharge from the Marines, and he was incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to screw up. She’d flirted with him a bit over the first couple of days, but hard as it was, he refused to give in to her charm. He wasn’t about to risk his job for a pretty face.
Good thing he hadn’t tried anything either, because her true colors revealed themselves soon after.
For the past week and a half or so, she’d acted like an absolute spoiled little brat who treated him like a servant instead of the man hired to protect her.
It irked him, but he couldn’t let her know she’d gotten under his skin.
He watched over the edge of the towel as her hands moved to the pearl buttons of her pink and blue plaid shirt, and it seemed to take an eternity for her to get them all unsnapped.
She pushed the fabric off her shoulders, then let out a little grunt of distress as her arms got trapped inside the sleeves. “Stupid thing…”
She shook one arm, succeeding only in making it worse as the wet fabric clung and tangled together. He dropped the towel and reached for her. “Turn around.”
She wobbled on her feet but managed to turn her back to him, and he peeled the sodden material down her arms and dropped it in the tub. She gathered her hair and dragged the damp locks over one shoulder as she glanced back at him. “My bra?”
He dropped his chin to his chest and briefly closed his eyes. God give him strength. What had he done to deserve this?
Clenching his teeth, he released the clasp in the middle of her back and yanked the straps down.
As soon as it hit the ground, Rina let out a little sigh and fell back against him.
He caught her around her waist to keep her from falling, and she grasped his arm where it banded just beneath her breasts.
He forced himself to stare straight ahead and not give in to the temptation to look at the gorgeous breasts spilling over his forearm.
Rina tipped her head back against his shoulder and wiggled her bottom against him as if trying to get closer. “Rina…”
His anatomy obviously didn’t care that she was drunk—maybe even drugged, considering her erratic behavior—and stratospherically out of his league. His blood heated at the feel of her, and he bit the inside of his cheek, desperate to regain control over himself.
Rina reached behind him and grasped the back of his thigh, arching her back like a kitten as she rubbed against him.
That in itself told him how out of her mind she was.
The girl never looked at him with anything other than complete and utter disdain.
For her to touch him, let alone intimately like this, was completely out of character.
“Rina.” He peeled her hand away and spun her in his arms. “Look at me.”
Her glassy eyes flitted around for a moment before locking on his. “You good?”
“I could be better.” She placed her hand on the front of his jeans, then smiled, slow and sultry. “I could make you feel better, too.”
He snatched her hand away. “Rina, stop.”
She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest and pouted up at him. “Why don’t you like me?”
He swallowed down the urge to comfort her. It was just the alcohol talking. “Let’s just get you to bed. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and pulled away from him, her lips turning down in a frown. “I don’t know why you hate me so much.”
The way she said it sent a little pang of unease through him. “I don’t hate you.”
“Right.” She threw a sad look his way before leaving the bathroom. He propped his hands on his hips and tipped his head back, drawing in a deep breath.
He didn’t hate her—he didn’t. She was just… young and immature and frustrating. He liked his job, and he wouldn’t jeopardize it, even for her. His only consolation was that Rina was almost completely inebriated, and with luck, she would forget all about this by the time she woke up tomorrow.
He glanced at his watch. Just after three. By the time he got home it would be almost four, and he’d have to be up in a couple hours anyway.
Resigning himself to staying here for the night, he grimaced as he glanced down at his boots and puke-splattered jeans.
He’d definitely experienced worse, but he couldn’t sleep like that on Rina’s couch.
He peeked out of the bathroom, relieved that she’d crawled into bed.
Turning off the light, he cut across the house to the laundry room and kicked off his boots—no saving those suckers—then tossed his shirt and jeans in the washing machine.
He’d crash out for a while then dry them in the morning.
Moving through the dark house, he reset the house alarm, used the key fob to lock his truck, then headed back to Rina’s room to check on her. A soft snuffling sound greeted him, and he approached the side of the bed, listening intently to her breathing.
By the time she’d come out of the bathroom, she’d seemed, if not fully coherent, at least slightly less drunk than when they’d left the bar.
She made the soft gurgling sound again, and he rolled his eyes.
Just what he needed, for her to choke on her own vomit and die in her sleep.
She let out a grumble as he rolled her to her side, then she snuggled back into her pillow and dropped off again with a little snore.
He scrubbed one hand over his face before he reluctantly strode around the bed and climbed in on the other side. At least this close, he’d be able to know if something was wrong. He tucked his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, already dreading the morning to come.