Page 11 of Defended By Love

And oh, what a penthouse it is.

“This is your place?” I gasp as I get to look around it a little more. Forget the multitude of very expensive paintings on the wall, the marble flooring is beautiful enough to move me to tears. The place is decorated with a subtle sophistication that really works because each piece boasts an enormous price tag. Wealth truly is the best interior designer.

Although it does nothing to showcase his personal style. This could just as easily be a picture in a magazine. Billionaires Style or something. Whatever rich people read.

The Garnet Defender shrugs, like it’s no big deal that we’re standing in a foyer that could devour my apartment and still be hungry for my parking space.

“Everyone needs a place to lay their head.”

I roll my eyes. This place could house a million heads.

Probably not the best visual when I’m looking to get frisky.

“So… where’s your bedroom?” I reach up to toy with my hair seductively. It’s a ratty mess after the flight over. I push my hair over my shoulder in a move that I hope is sexy and not clearly an attempt to hide the world’s biggest tangle.

Again, he gulps. A spectre of a smile graces my face.

“No,” he says finally, after stopping and starting a few times.

“Place like this doesn’t have a bedroom?”

He goes to answer, then frowns.

“I didn’t bring you here for that.”

“I know you didn’t,” I argue back. It’s really more of a habit at this point. I have no idea what he brought me here for. For all I know, he’s about to bust out a guitar and play ‘Wonderwall’ for me.

Or whatever it is that people do when they visit other people. Clearly, I don’t do a lot of after-work socializing.

“Unless, you actually do intend to kill me here… at this secondary location?” I add.

A look of pure exasperation crosses his face as he steps towards me.

“Don’t joke about that.” His voice is a whisper that tickles my cheeks. Somehow we’ve come even closer together as he speaks.

His face is bent down towards mine. Rising on my tiptoes, I go to kiss him.

And he pulls away.

“I really didn’t bring you here to do that,” he stutters. His face is flushed, like it’s the bloody site from the war he’s waging inside himself. “You just went through a traumatic experience. You need food and water and…” His eyes fall into mine—and I do mean into mine. It’s like we’re connected with the pull of it all. He takes a step towards me, then a second one way back. “And rest!” he practically yells.

“Is that what you do for all the girls you rescue?”

“Wouldn’t know. You’re my first. At least in the one-on-one sense. I did save that pedestrian the other day, but we didn’t get up close. Besides, she was like eighty, which isn’t to say—” He trails off and clears his throat. He speaks again in his lower, gravelly voice that makes me shiver. “You, Hailey Cox, need to be taken care of.”

“Then is that what other superheroes do? Do they all keep snacks in a fanny pack or something?”

“I told you already, I’m the only one. That I know of, at least. I’m writing the handbook as I go.”

“Then there’s really not some underground superhero coalition that’s just done a supreme job of hiding because of all the potential litigation?”

He goes to push his hand through his hair, but (once again) can’t due to his hair gel. It’s a sight I don’t think I’d ever tire of. The way his eyes widen, the brief gape of his mouth…

“I don’t think so. This is all pretty new for me though… the powers thing.”

“How did—”

He waves me off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

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