"Aidan?" she called out softly.
I gritted my teeth. "Come in." Would she call my name like that if we were fucking?
Nobody said my name like her.
I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she had an accent or anything. But she said it differently, and it made my ear drums shudder with delight.
I sucked in a breath, my mind veering away from the pain for a second as she opened the door.
In a pair of sweats and a tee, both of them dirty, with her looking disheveled after her escapades tonight, she had no right to be so beautiful.
No fucking right.
Still, the memory of her being attacked had a tic twitching in my jaw. I’d seen the state of her apartment after Baggy and Forrest had come and helped retrieve the SOB who thought he could hurt Savannah.
"I’m proud of you for tonight."
She blinked. "For defending myself?"
Her squirming had me arching a brow at her. "What is it?"
A huff escaped her lips. "Nothing. It’s nothing."
I smiled a little. "What is it, Savannah?" I repeated, my tone just a touch sterner.
I’d noticed that about her before. She was hard to pin down sometimes, but with a little authority, she usually caved in.
Her nose crinkled. "I’m a modern woman."
"I know you are." Had I said she wasn’t?
"Well, good. I’m glad you know that." Her nose crinkled some more. "I shouldn’t want you to be proud of me. Shouldn’t need that." She cleared her throat. "But I like it." For a second, disgust laced her features, and I knew it was aimed inwardly.
I wasn’t sure why I was so careful with my words, I just was. "Shouldn’t we always want people to think we’ve done well?"
"We shouldn’t," she disagreed with a small shrug. "But it is what it is."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means..." She heaved a sigh. "Never mind. Is everything okay?"
Unappreciative of her answer, I limped forward, not even thinking of my fucking leg, just needing to cage her in. To get her answer. To know where her mind was at.
As I approached, her eyes flared wide. Not in fear. The pupils dilated, swallowing up the pretty brown irises that reminded me of mahogany.
With that one involuntary gesture, I found myself at the limits of my control. Her beauty did that to me. She wasn’t the girl-next-door kind of hot, wasn't a supermodel. Savannah had curves on top of curves, but her face was exquisite. Porcelain skin, arched brows that framed her features, a delicate nose and lips that were a dusky pink I wanted to lick.
Everything about her was tactile.
Which was why she was so fucking dangerous to me.
On the outside, she looked harmless. On the inside, she possessed a rapier sharp intelligence that’d slice me in two if I didn’t watch out.
"What, Savannah? What does it mean?" I demanded.
"This isn’t fair," she groused. "I’m not firing on all cylinders!"
I smirked at her. "That puts me at an advantage then. I’ll take that considering I know how much of a shark you are regularly."