Chapter 19 #2
She swallows her other bite, then bites her lip as she shifts in her seat.
“So, I sent an email to the hostel before I laid down, and they replied that they can get me booked in time for the conference,” she says, pulling her salad and bowl of olives closer. I stare, a frown tugging my mouth as she pops one into her mouth.
Hostel?
Something hot, fierce and protective rises up inside me while I quietly watch as oil from the olives pebble on her bottom lip before spilling over down her chin.
Losing my mind, I reach over without thinking and wipe it off with my thumb, ignoring her breathless gasp and wide-eyed expression.
Yet also noticing she doesn’t flinch or pull away from me, and God, that causes me the most pleasure of all.
Keeping my eye contact, she slowly places the napkin over the spot I’d just touched, as if in a trance. I work to regulate my sudden, ragged breathing.
Fuck girl, what on Earth are you doing to me?
My phone rings with Aurora's ringtone, startling us both out of the spell we've fallen under. Leaning to the side, I hurriedly pull it out before silencing it and setting it on the table. “No,” I answer automatically, as if my brain is on autopilot, “you're not staying at a hostel."
Thankfully, I have the sense to not sound like an asshole when I say it. Practice makes perfect.
Popping another bite of spaghetti in my mouth, I chew slowly, waiting for the response I know is coming because she's hardheaded.
I look down at my phone when it dings again.
Aurora: What the fuck's the matter with you? I feel nothing for years, now all of a sudden you give me every fucking emotion in the span of three days. Do you even care I might fuck-up someone's life by nicking an artery?! I'll answer that for you: NO. You don't.
Aurora: So, is it the therapist? What's going on? Stop it.
I ignore my sister, who's more cold-hearted than I ever was, and watch Sarah sputter, amused at the flush rising in her pretty cheeks.
“Excuse me?” Sarah says with a half-laugh. “You don’t have any say in where I stay! I’m an adult, a single adult!"
My eyes narrow because I don't like that for us.
Yes, there's going to be an us, but I continue to watch silently, letting her get her words out.
She continues, "We aren’t together. I will not be staying with you.” Indignation colors her tone, but it doesn't bother me any.
Continuing to chew, I stare her down, taking all the time I please. I couldn't care less about her attitude. What I do care about is her happiness and her not fucking staying in a hostel where God knows what goes on.
"I will staple your ass to me if I have to," I say quietly, albeit a little threateningly. "Drag you up on stage to present with me—I don't care, but you aren't staying at a hostel."
"You aren't responsible for me!" She keeps my eye contact as she stabs her salad rather forcefully, making the tines scrape the bottom of the ceramic bowl.
I smile at her temper before clearing my throat. She's not about to like my next words; I'm willing to bet my savings on it.
I take a healthy swallow of wine for fortitude.
“I beg to differ," I rasp. "The moment you walked into my office you became my responsibility—my professional responsibility, I would go to my death arguing.
" I wipe my mouth with my napkin, lean an elbow on the table, and point at her.
"You once threatened to go to the board for my supposed neglectful behavior once; surely you would have no problem with me keeping tabs on you, considering the unfortunate situation you have found yourself in.
" Her mouth drops open, so I pivot quickly.
"That we have both found ourselves in, whether you like it or not.” I lean back at her angry gasp, continuing despite her obvious displeasure at me.
“I’ll be making sure you stay out of harm's way. Making sure you take care of yourself… prioritizing your self-care, making sure you eat. Which you will do. Eat,” I say sternly, leaning forward and pushing her spaghetti closer to her. "Finish this."
Sarah’s face is comical.
When she leans forward in her seat, her cardigan slips off her shoulder, giving me the full view of the front graphic of her shirt, the curve of her collarbone, and her heavy breasts straining against the thin fabric.
Her mouth opens and closes, but she doesn't say anything.
I've got her hook, line, and sinker. A spicy defiance simmers in her eyes that I want to reach inside and feel burning me up.
Fucking hell.
She's an angel, but I bet her everything tastes like sin. I cock my head and smile at her in amusement at the play on letters.
“And another thing, you’ll be staying here until you move into your apartment on Tuesday.” I throw that in on a whim, watching the color in her face deepen now into a beautiful rosy-flush.
Leaning forward, I take her hand that's holding her fork into mine, then shove it back into her spaghetti. My fingers prick with the thrill of having her skin on mine.
“Y-y-you!” she stammers, setting my blood on fire. “You can’t.”
Noting she seemed to have a contrary streak, I give her an amused chuckle, letting her know that I'm not trying to mean mug her, but I'm willing to utilize every tool at my disposal to make sure she's okay. Until I can make her mine, that is.
We aren't quite in that spot yet, but still.
I think it goes without saying.
“Yes, I can, actually. I’m going to look out for you, and you’re going to let me.
I’ll give you space, but I’ll be checking in periodically.
” I take another bite of my food, dabbing my lips with the napkin before leaning back, cocking my head at her and showing her how serious I am.
“The one thing I do know is you will be staying with me in Vancouver. No hostel, it’s not safe.
End of,” I say sternly, firmly declaring the topic closed.
Sarah doesn’t answer, only shoves another bite of her noodles angrily into her mouth, making her cheeks puff out and chewing fast.
Swallowing hard, she finally glances across the table, opening her mouth to speak, but I interrupt her, “Let someone take care of you for once.”
This time, I can't hide the desire plain as day in my voice. What's more is: I don't want to.