Page 47 of Chasing Storm
“I just quit my job,” I mutter.
“Trouble?”
“You could say that.”
“Then you did the right thing.”
“Easy for you to say, Richie-Rich.”
He snorts. “She’s funny too.” His tone is sweet and gorgeous and lulls me into calming down slightly. I clutch his t-shirt and then pull back, glaring at it.
“You’re a dick, you know that?”
He glances down and chuckles. “Reminds me of you and will even more now that your scent is all over it.”
“My snot and tears. You’re going to have to wash it.”
“Nope.”
“You’re gross.”
“Want to go home?”
I nod. “I’m okay. Thank you, but you don’t have to walk me home.”
“Drink then?”
I shake my head. “I need to bury myself in my bed until I work up the guts to find another job.”
His heart starts to pound under my hands, still resting on his chest at the mention of my bed.
“Let me take you home. Make sure you get there safely,” he croaks.
I don’t even have the energy to argue with him. I nod and let him lead me away, his arm around me as I rest my head on his shoulder.
It sends a bolt of fear through me how natural and how perfect it feels.
I pull back and say, “It’s okay. I can take it from here.” I dig around in my bag for a tissue, finding a pocket packet and pulling one out.
“Let me take care of you, please, Storm. I can’t just walk away knowing you’re upset. I know you don’t believe us, but we are serious about wanting to know you.”
I gulp and ignore him, walking in the direction of my home, realising I’m leading him straight to my abode, but I don’t care right now. I’m feeling sorry for myself, angry, sad, and panicked about what I’m going to do.
When we arrive at the front door of my building, I punch in the code and shove the door open.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“Anytime,” he replies.
Our heated gaze meets.
His bright blue eyes are wary and serious.
My breath is coming in soft pants.
He lets out a soft growl.
The gasp that escapes me is uncontrollable.
