I march through to the kitchen and pull open my medicine cupboard. Reaching up to the top shelf, I pull down a box and grab the bandages.
“Don’t want you getting blood everyw-” I gasp when I turn to find Chris standing there. “Way to give a girl a heart attack! You really are
Mr. Invisible.”
He smirks. “That’s me.”
A warm tingle chases up my spine when our eyes lock. He tilts his head, and my heart thumps a little harder as I reach for his hand. The cut across his knuckles is deep and jagged, but I can’t see any embedded glass.
“You should get this looked at in the hospital,” I tell him.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Such a man,” I mumble.
Yeah. He really is all man.
Cleaning the wound with an antiseptic swab, I wrap the bandage across his knuckles and gesture at his tank top. “You’ve got blood on…”
Chris grabs at the base of his vest, and I just stand here frozen while he yanks it over his head.
Oh. My. God.
How many hours does he spend in the gym to look like…this?
As he smiles at me, my eyes fall down to the V-cut muscle disappearing into the belt of his jeans. Swirling lines of dark hair snake up to his naval. A deep, dark ridge flows up the center of his stomach, separating four bulbous hills on either side of his abdomen.
Who the hell has an eight-pack? A valley of salt and pepper hair smothers his upper chest, and dark pink nipples sit proudly on his toned pecs.
This has to be a dream…
“Pinch me,” I mutter.
Chris raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
Like it doesn’t belong to me, I watch my hand float between us and I place an open palm on his chest. He feels so firm, warm, and alive. Like a smooth tree in the middle of summer.
“What’s that?” I ask, staring at the circular scar between my fingers.
That question seems to make his heart thump harder. I watch my hand rise and fall to the pump of his blood.
How can my dad’s best friend be this hot?
“Long and boring story,” he replies.
My dad’s best friend, my mind screams.
He’s my dad’s best friend!
My heart gallops when I lift my gaze to his lips, so I grab his top and shimmy sideways.
“I’ll clean this for you,” I tell him, looking anywhere but his half-naked body. “You can collect it tomorrow or something.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he replies.
I check the label. “You probably paid more for this than most people spend on their first car.”
“Probably.”
His reflection shimmers in the microwave as he folds his arms across his chest, squeezing those delicious pecs. I turn my head away, but now he’s in the oven.
Why is he everywhere I look? And I’ve managed to survive twenty-two years without wanting to eat another human being, so why the hell do I have an urge to bite him?
“Exactly,” I say. “You can’t just throw it out.”
“Who said anything about throwing it out?”
Turning to face him, I decide to look at his nose. It’s safer there.
“You just said?-“
“Collecting it tomorrow won’t be necessary, kiddo…because I’m not going anywhere.”
Sudden images of rolling around on my bed invade my head and my cheeks flush with heat. “W-what?”
“You heard,” he says.
“You’re not staying here?”
Chris grins. “I think you’ll find I am.”
Confused, I watch him march through the kitchen and hallway. He then walks out into the street, and I squint as he pops the trunk of his shiny Aston Martin.
What the hell is happening?
Now he’s dragging a suitcase through my house.
“Hi honey, I’m home!” His eight-pack ripples as he drops the case to the foot of the stairs before walking back to me. “I want my bacon and eggs served at six sharp.”
“What?” I gasp. His eyes aren’t even a safe space now, so I look back at the tip of his nose. “Is this a joke?”
Chris nods and leans his back against the oven as I sigh with relief.
“You freaked me out then! I thought you meant you were staying here.”
“I am,” he says, winking at me. “The bacon and eggs at six was a joke. Seven will be fine.”
Now my heart is beating hard for very different reasons. “Tell me what the hell is going on right now! Why do you have a suitcase in my house? And what are you even doing at my party in the first place?”
“Relax,” Chris says, raising a calming hand. “Your dad is worried about your safety. That’s why he sent me. It’s me or three live-in bodyguards. Your choice.”
“What?” I throw his vest to the floor. “You arenot living here. Dad can go screw himself. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Then stop acting like a baby.” I gasp and shake my head. “Don’t get upset, Harper. We’re doing this for you.” I can’t stop the tears as I storm past him, but he grabs my arm. “Why are you crying?”
“You won’t understand,” I sob. “Nobody ever understands!”
Chris softens his grip and pulls me closer to his bare chest. “Try me.”
“Everyone either treats me like a child or an outcast. None of my friend’s dads send people to their houses to stay over. Not that I would even know. Because I don’t even have any friends. And before you say it, I know Christina and Becca were just using me. I’m not stupid.”
“I never called you stupid,” he whispers.
“Well, there’s clearly something wrong with me! Why else can’t I make friends?”
Chris bites his lip. “I promise you it’s not your fault. I can’t tell you why, but you just have to trust me.”
“Whatever. You just made everything a million times harder. Christina and Becca won’t forget what happened tonight.”
“Hey!” I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip. “You asked how Billy McVane knew it was you?” The breath from his nose tickles my lips as he leans closer. “It’s because you’re the prettiest girl in the fucking room and you don’t even know it.”
His dark eyes flicker to my mouth, but I shake my head. “That’s not true. I’m nothing compared to those other girls. I’m just?-“
“Stop!” he snaps. “You’re worth fifty of those snooty bitches. And I don’t care if she runs the school. Nothing will happen to you with me around. I’m here to keep you safe.”
Our lips are almost touching, but my emotions are everywhere right now. Being around this guy makes me angry.
And how hot he is makes me even angrier.
“And your idea of keeping me safe is by lying about me dating some guy, huh?” I say, “Lies. Lies. Lies. It’s all you and my dad do. Because you’re both men. You wouldn’t know the truth if it kicked you in the face.”
“You don’t know me,” he says, his jaw twitching. “I made a promise, so I’m staying. Deal with it, kiddo.”
“I told you to stop calling me that, Private Collins.”
Wow. He flinches like he’s been shot, and I’m so close I can see the hurt shimmering in his hazel eyes. “I didn’t mean it. The stuff in the diary.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
“Just making that crystal clear,” I say. “You’re too old.”
He smirks. “If you say so…”
Right. Now he’s really pissed me off. Standing on tiptoes, I press my lips to his ear. “If you think I’m such a kid…what’s that pressed against my leg right now?”
Leaving my hip against his groin, I lean back. His eyes give nothing away, but I watch a smile tugging at his lips.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he whispers. “But that’s my gun…”
I yank my hand away from him and storm into the hallway. “You better not be here tomorrow morning!”
Bounding up the stairs, I march into my room and lean my back against my door.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.