Page 171 of If Our Hearts Collide

I unlock the door, disarm the security system, and turn on the lights. The apartment building is calm and quiet for a weekend night, which is part of the reason I love this place so much. I can find peace here. Few people get rowdy or make asses of themselves.

“Why did you go to Limit-X tonight, Pen?” I bend to remove my shoes, placing them in their resting location on the shelf. “What were you trying to prove?”

Penny wrestles with the ties on her heels and then kicks them at me to catch—one at a time.

“Why were you hitting a woman, while masking it under the category of pleasure? Really, Collins?”

Her eyes are vacant, as if the sunshine I once saw is now eclipsed by the realization of how big of an asshole I am.

I walk across the living room to the wall of glass windows. The city is so serene at night, with the lights reflecting off the water.

“I am not a good partner for anyone, Penny. I’ve not had the best past experiences to carve out how I choose to live my future.”

“Well, neither have I.”

My body turns to find Penny stripped of the rain jacket, standing in the middle of my living room, in nothing but her tight white strips of fabric. I saw her in this outfit already tonight, and yet, having her in my space, without the backdrop of chaos and noise, makes her appear so…

Fucking sexy.

32

PENNY

“Put some clothes on,” Collins snaps.

The spark of disapproval simmers in Collins’s features. It begins in his eyes and then works its way down to the tic of his jaw, followed by the rigidness of his stance. It’s like he’s playing a waiting game—trying to decide when to light the fuse and turn this into a full-blown lecture on my wardrobe.

Good girls wear modest clothes.

Good girls carry themselves with poise and respect.

Good girls always…avoid going into unmarked mansions that happen to be sex clubs…

Well, I’m tired of being a good girl. I’m tired of doing what everyone expects of me. And I’m tired of being told what to do by one overbearing, overprotective, overcritical bodyguard.

Yet, no matter how hard I try to hold my ground, a part of me still strives for approval from others and, right now, especially him.

“I don’t have any clothes, remember?” I say, my voice shaky.

My skin feels warm and sweat beads on my forehead. Maybe I’m dehydrated. Or perhaps the deflated feeling is just me coming down from the high I was having at the club.

Collins storms past me, down the hall, calling for me to follow him. Sheesh, he can be so moody. I make it into the guest room, the same place I stayed during the night of the storm, shocked to see him pull out a pair of pink pajamas from the closet. Does he just have women’s clothes lying around? I want to ask more, but his demeanor tells me he’s not in the right frame of mind for a discussion.

And my head is starting to hurt too much to analyze this further.

“Get dressed.”

I snatch the clothes from his extended hand, grumbling a few words as to his bossiness under my breath. I watch as he moves into the bathroom, flicks on the lights, and steps out holding a white tube.

Our eyes meet, and it’s like seeing each other again for the first time. The way his bottom lip twitches as he studies me just makes me retract under his scrutinization. It’s like he has something to say but is too disciplined to actually say it. I shift my weight from foot to foot.“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

I should expect Collins to ignore my question like he does, but it’s still annoying. My eyes search his, inviting him to say something—anything. Why does this man frustrate me so much, more than anyone who has ever frustrated me before?

He hits my panic button.

I have two older brothers who have no boundaries, and yet this one man standing before me is owning my attention. Owning my anger. And owning my ability to control when to hide within myself.

He is peeling back layers of vulnerability in me, making me want to punch his mute button until it shatters into a million pieces.

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