THE BODYGUARD | PRICE X FEM!READER

Part 4

After 20 minutes the door to the pub swung open and you emerged, alone, arms crossed over chest. His eyes followed as you walked over, climbing in beside him, throwing your bag in the footwell. 

"Ready to go?"

You said nothing, simply putting on your seatbelt. The quiet prevailed until about half way back to the house. You sat, head pressed into the rest behind, gaze fixated out the window. 

"Why were you at the pub?"

"Fancied a drink."

"Right."

"I wasn't following you, if that's what you're thinking."

"Right."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, building interpersonal relationships was hard for him, particularly when the person on the other end was not keen to do as such. 

"I was bored,' he tapped his fingers on the leather, "To make up for it, why don't we have a drink when we get back? I'm sure Kate- your mum, has a stash somewhere."

That got your attention, an interesting proposal, he was clearly trying to play cool with you. So you accepted, delicately holding one of your mums crystal glass in your palm only half an hour later. Price had made himself at home, relaxing on the sofa after putting on a record letting Johnny Cash play softly in the background of the scene. The vodkas you'd consumed before mingled with the whisky you now drank in a way that made you sway to the music, staring out the large glass front of the living room. You could see him in the reflection, stealing a glance every now and then. Your eyes rolled back behind your lids. 

"Have you ever killed anyone?" The words escaped you before you could clamp them between your tongue and palate. Gaze returning to his form as he shifted uncomfortably, hips raising momentarily, upper body leaning forward. 

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"This is what you want to talk about?"

"Mmm..." The mumble vibrated your lips. You weren't really sure, you just wanted to dig at what made this man tick. He was guarded like you own mother, you could see how they were such good friends. Body slowly turned around to face him. "Do you dance?"

It pulled a low chuckle from him and for a second, you considered the very real possibility that he would reject your offer, only for him to stand up and close the proximity between you both. 

"I do," He stuffed his hands in his pockets, "But not with women half my age."

Tongue ran along lower lip, pulling it underneath your teeth. He watched at it happen. Women, not girl, you were a woman to him. There was something about the ethanol which raged in your veins that blossomed a shade of mauve over your chest, a flush so evident he barely contained his facial expression, one eyesbrow twitching. A hedanistic type of liquid confidence. A freezing drop of condensation gather against your skin, rolling down your palm and your wrist. You raised the glass, swallowing the rest of the burning fluid which made each breath feel like evaporating fire. Bending at the hips to put the empty tumbler on the carpet, purposefully keep your legs straight to really show off what you could do. The last few feet were minimized to almost nothing by your own steps to him, his posture straightening up the closer you got. 

"Indulge me, I've never danced with a man before." Eyes relaxed to make them as doe-like as possible, your statement a half-truth. You had danced with men, just more as a grind of bodies and less of an actual dance. Price cleared his throat, looking straight over the top of your head to the windows behind before shaking his head to himself. You wished he slip up his demeanour so you could have a view into his thoughts, even if for the most minute moment. Then, he nodded, pulling his hands out his pockets and holding you, though not pulling you in quite yet. For all the callouses that graced his palms, they were unexpectedly soft and warm as they wrapped your skin behind your back and on your other hand, supporting it at shoulder height. The movement was slow, a simple to and fro.