Resisting Her (5 page)

Her eyes searched his, trying to understand.
“Your parents…”

“They’re gone. Have been for a few years now.
It’s just my sister Marissa and me. She’s three years older and a
pain in the ass,” he added, hoping to add some levity back into the
moment which had suddenly grown heavier than he’d bargained
for.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes never
wavering from his.

Realization sparked between them and their
gazes remained locked together. Her eyes softened and prodded his
dark stare until they were no longer strangers, but two people
connecting from a shared loss that wounded so deeply, it never
quite healed.

He took a slow, shaky breath. This wasn’t
part of the deal. He couldn’t be getting soft now. Just because
he’d brought his work home, so to speak, didn’t mean it was okay
for him to get all mushy. Christ, what came next? Crying on each
other’s shoulders? Knitting a God damn blanket. No fucking way.
He’d do what he had to do to help Savannah. He wasn’t okay with
seeing a woman suffer. That was all this was. He would not get
emotionally involved. Couldn’t. Not again. He had a cabinet full of
prescription meds that were the result of him getting involved in
something he shouldn’t have once before.

“Thanks,” he bit out, more than ready to
change the topic.

The remnants of food between them had grown
cold, and Savannah looked positively exhausted. She sat slumped in
her chair, her head leaning in her hand.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He placed
their dishes in the sink and guided Savannah to the guest room.

***

Cole’s home wasn’t what Savannah had
expected. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting, but the
large, modern third-floor loft with floor to ceiling windows and
furniture with sleek, clean lines was unanticipated. She was too
exhausted to explore, being overtired and fighting off a panic
attack would do that to you, but she dutifully followed behind
Cole, trying her best to listen as he pointed out things out to
her. The small breakfast nook opened to a large living room with an
espresso colored sectional sofa facing a large flat screen TV.

She’d already grown to love the large
spotless kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances and rustic
butcher-block island, even if the sight of it initially caused a
pang of sadness to hit her chest. Thinking of cooking made her
think of the compound, which made her think of the children. She
worried about where they were now, and if they were being well
cared for. Especially little Britta. The five year old girl was so
smart and so tough, the toughest little girl she knew, and yet she
looked so sad when she was loaded into the van with the other
children. She hoped Britta was okay. Wished she could find her… But
she’d put that out of her mind as she had worked, whipping up a
basic recipe for fettuccine alfredo. She couldn’t say she’d ever
made that particular dish at three in the morning, but her options
had been limited with such a poorly stocked kitchen.

She found herself wondering who took care of
Cole, and thought it unusual that he wasn’t married. He was in his
late-twenties, he was kind and attractive. But just as quickly as
the thoughts had entered her head, she’d pushed them away. She had
no business wondering about his love life.

She followed Cole down the hallway, where he
pointed out a large marble-floored guest bathroom and his bedroom,
which she’d already seen, before stopping at another door just
across from his.

He cleared his throat. “This is the guest
room.” He gestured for her to enter.

She stepped around him, entering the spacious
room decorated in creams and whites. The large inviting bed in the
center of the room drew her forward. When she pressed a hand into
the center of the plush bed, there was no way she’d willing go back
to sleeping on that hard, stained cot. The bed was outfitted in the
softest blankets she’d ever felt. She toured the room, running her
hand along the smooth curves of the dark wood dresser and then
turned to face Cole. She wondered if she’d be allowed to stay.
There was something about him — she sensed it from the first time
she saw him at the compound. Though she probably should have feared
him, she felt comforted by his presence.

“You can, ah, sleep here.” He rubbed a hand
along the back of this neck. His bicep flexed, pulling against the
T-shirt he wore. He had large, powerful muscles in his back,
shoulders and arms, but somehow Savannah knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
He didn’t strike her as the violent type.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She tried to
imagine herself living in a place so nice, but it was too big and
too empty to feel comfortable. She was accustomed to sleeping in a
bunk room with other women and children, relaxing to the sounds of
breathing or soft snores. But still, she appreciated his providing
this room, where at least she would be safe. She’d already noted
the door had its own lock.

They stood facing each other, neither
speaking, but each studying the other. Savannah shifted her weight,
looking down at her baggy jeans and sweatshirt. She didn’t have a
change of clothes, let alone pajamas or a toothbrush, but she
wasn’t about to ask Cole for anything else. He’d been too kind
already, and she didn’t want to wear out her welcome or cause him
any objections to her staying.

***

Savannah was still standing in the center of
the guest room, her bare feet buried in the plush carpeting. Cole
suddenly found himself grateful for his sister Marissa’s interior
decorating help. He’d resisted it at first, but she’d slowly worn
him down, reminding him that he might still be a bachelor, but he
wasn’t twenty-two anymore, and he was making good money. She said
it was time to live like a grown-up. So he’d gotten a new bedroom
set for himself, or more accurately he went along with Marissa to
the furniture store, and handed over his credit card once she’d
picked everything out.

She’d redecorated his place room by room,
finishing with the guest room Savannah now stood in. He’d told
Marissa it was a waste of money. This room had never held a guest
in his three years of living here; it was where he kept his seldom
used ironing board, luggage set and mountain bike. But now watching
Savannah walk towards the bed and press her palm into the center of
the fluffy comforter, he silently praised Marissa’s intervention,
not that he’d ever admit that to her.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.” Cole
returned a moment later with a pair of his sweat pants and an old
T-shirt, handing them to Savannah. “You can wear this if it
helps.”

Savannah accepted the clothes gratefully, and
Cole left the room so she could change. A few minutes later, he
tapped on the door with his knuckles. “Are you decent?”

She opened the door and stood before him. The
baggy clothes seemed to swallow her.

“We’ll figure everything out in the morning.
Just get some rest, okay?”

Savannah nodded, yawning sleepily. Cole
watched her crawl into the bed, his chest tightening at the sight
of her in his clothes, looking so small and helpless in the big
bed. “Night,” he uttered, his voice surprisingly tight.

He was grateful he had a few days off to help
Savannah figure things out. How he would use those days, he had no
idea. Of course, he would have to go back to work soon, and he had
his Sunday visits with Abbie—which he hoped Savannah didn’t need to
know about. But one thing at a time. She was safe and warm in the
guest bedroom, and that was good enough for now.

When Cole woke the following morning, or
afternoon as it were, it took him a moment to place the sounds
coming from inside his apartment.
Savannah
. His heart did a
little happy dance in his chest at the thought of finding her in
his kitchen. He stretched and went to investigate. When he entered
the kitchen, his bare feet thudding against the wood floor,
Savannah looked up and froze like she’d been caught doing something
wrong.

“Hi,” he offered, attempting to reassure
her.

Her features softened. “Hi.”

Cole scanned the mixing bowls and ingredients
spread across his counters, and the island covered in a dusting of
flour. “Did you sleep okay?”

Savannah’s eyes wandered the length of Cole’s
bare chest and stopped at the trail of fine hair grazing his lower
stomach and disappearing under his waistband. She cleared her
throat and looked down at her hands. “Mmm hmm,” she stammered.

Cole bit his lip to keep from chuckling. His
muscular physique always got positive reviews from the opposite
sex. And he was surprised to see that even after all Savannah had
been through, she still noticed him. He worked hard to keep in top
physical shape, kick-boxing three times a week, lifting weights,
and running the rest of the days. He glanced down at his naked
chest and abs. His pants had slipped ever so slightly down on his
hips, exposing his lower abdominals and the lines along his sides
that formed a deep V at his hips. He tightened the drawstring,
doubling the knot.
Down boy.
Now was not the time to get a
hard on.

He rarely wore anything to bed but had tugged
on a pair of pajama pants last night just in case Savannah needed
anything in the middle of the night. That way he wouldn’t have to
fumble for his clothes in the darkness, or risk terrifying the poor
girl with his naked manhood. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt; he
found the material too damn restrictive. He preferred the feel of
his satin sheets against his bare skin — it was the one comfort he
allowed himself.

“I’m making pancakes. I hope that’s okay,”
Savannah said quietly.

A box of mix sat on the counter. “Of course
that’s okay. Thank you.” Cole crossed the kitchen to start a pot of
coffee, stepping around her and noticing how unaccustomed he was to
having someone in his space, though it wasn’t entirely
unwelcome.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to operate that
thing.” Savannah eyed the coffee maker like it had personally
offended her.

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

Once Savannah had wiped her hands on a dish
towel and sidled up next to Cole, he couldn’t resist guiding her in
between himself and the counter, so she was closer to the coffee
maker, he told himself.

Savannah sucked in a breath at the contact,
but didn’t protest, allowing him to maneuver her body as he
pleased. He demonstrated how to add fresh beans to the grinder and
then how to set the beans to roast, then brew. The coffee maker was
fussier than he was used to, but it had been a gift from Marissa
last Christmas, and now he was addicted to fresh roasted coffee
beans.

Neither of them moved away as the coffee
began to drip into the waiting carafe. A sudden vision of lifting
her hair off the back of her neck and leaning in to plant a kiss on
her soft skin danced through his mind. He was just inches from
pressing into her, grinding his hips into her ass. He felt his cock
stir and knew their lesson was over.

“Let’s eat,” he grumbled.

Savannah stood in stunned silence as he
stalked from the kitchen. He grabbed a T-shirt and threw it on
before sitting down at the breakfast bar. Savannah slid a stack of
pancakes in front of him.

“Thanks.” He cast a quick glance up at her.
He didn’t realize having this beautiful young woman in his home
would affect him like this. He was a professional. He shouldn’t be
affected by her.

He watched her move through the apartment,
bending at the waist to collect the pile of mail he’d left by his
arm chair, shuffling into the kitchen to arrange it on the counter
and biting her lip as she studied a spot on the counter before
wiping it away. Her lips were full and pink and he found himself
wondering what they’d taste like before quickly pushing the thought
away.

As she stood at the kitchen counter, Cole
appraised her profile. Small but perky chest, dark hair curling
around her shoulders, a flat stomach, and a nice shapely ass. He
appreciated a fine ripe ass and getting that rounded backside in
his palms played through his mind like a song on repeat, no matter
how many times he reminded himself it wasn’t happening.

The tiny cut on her lower lip had healed
quickly, just the faintest line of pink visible if you were looking
for it. Savannah looked up and met his eyes, her mouth dropping
open in an unspoken question.

He needed to stop staring at her mouth or she
was going to get the wrong idea. He didn’t bring her here for any
sinister purpose. He wasn’t expecting anything in return for
letting her stay.

He found his voice. “Come sit down and eat
with me.”

Savannah obeyed, carrying an extra plate and
set of silverware over the breakfast bar to join him.

She helped herself to a few pancakes from the
platter stacked high between them. Cole was glad to see that she
didn’t seem overly self-conscious or shy.

She cut her pancakes into little pieces but
still hadn’t taken a bite.

“How are you doing this morning?” he asked,
trying his best at playing a nurturing role, something new for
him.

She swallowed heavily and gazed over at him.
“Is it stupid that I miss it there?”

The compound? He supposed it was all she
knew. “No, I guess not. They were the only family you had.”

She nodded. “There are some things I won’t
miss.”

He left her alone to her thoughts, fighting
the urge to push her for details. He appreciated her personality —
she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with pointless
chatter. She was more observer of the world than outright
contributor, and he could relate. He approached most things with a
healthy dose of suspicion, and relationships for him were no
different. They were each still feeling each other out, each on
guard, but for likely different reasons. She was a vulnerable
shell-shocked girl in a stranger’s home, and he was a hardened FBI
agent who’d experienced more than his fair share of loss. He rubbed
a hand along the back of his neck. Christ, what a pair.