The Bodyguard

Ch 6: Eva-I am a lot of things and sorry is not one of them.

I wake up to the sound of my shower running, the steady stream of water a surprising comfort despite the pounding in my head. I drag myself from under the covers and head into the kitchen, force feeding myself painkillers. Unfortunately for me, old habits die hard and even though I know Reaper is staying here, I forget to throw on clothes before leaving the safety of my bedroom. It isn't until he's stood in the kitchen doorway—hair still wet—that I even realise I'm only wearing panties and a bra.

"Umm..."

"Fuck!" I curse, clutching the kitchen counter.

I close my eyes and count to five, hoping that when I open them, he's gone.

"Eva?"

He still here.

"Why the fuck are you half naked right now?"

His anger amuses me.

"Is this funny to you?" he asks, closing the distance between us.

Within seconds, he's in front of me, chest heaving. I straighten my posture, unprepared to shrink in the presence of his power.

"It is, actually," I admit, smirking. "And to answer your other question... this is my home. I can be half naked if I want to be."

"The hell you can!" he counters, crossing his arms. "Anyone could walk in."

"So?"

"So, they're not seeing your half naked body, Eva!"

"Why not?" I probe, pushing back.

This—right here—is what I must do to protect myself from the spell this man has me under. The more of a bitch I am to him, the less likely I'll get hurt again. Plus, if I really want him to quit, I'll have to ramp things up a little. Or perhaps a lot?

"Put this on," he instructs, whipping his white T-shirt off.

I frown, hardly seeing the sense in his actions. "Now you're half naked," I say. "How is that any better?"

"Trust me—it is."

"How?"

"Because I hardly think Richie will see my naked chest and want to fuck me," he offers, fuming by all account. "You, however..."

"Richie does not want to fuck me."

"Eva—anyone with eyes will want to fuck you looking like that."

He regards my matching red set with great distain, as though the very things insult him.

I shrug, indifferent to his observation.

"Eva—"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

My question is out quicker than I can school it.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have eyes, do you not?" I sass. "And anyone with eyes will want to fuck me looking like this."

He steps close, eyes dangerously regarding every inch of my body. "Don't push me."

"Or what?" I challenge, pressing my chest into his.

My attention immediately goes to the few tattoos he has inked on his skin. He has a cluster of them on his left arm and I always did gravitate towards them. Like little glimpses into his life, each one has significance.

"Eva..."

His voice is a desperate plea, barely a whisper. Its intensity has me abandoning his tattoos and gazing straight into his big, brown eyes.