Page 23 of Living with Fire
Anyone who knows me knows that I’ll help anyone in need. It’s part of my DNA. That doesn’t generally include asking a stranger to stay in my guest bedroom, though. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had gotten into me, but there was no stopping the words that came from my mouth. Am I crazy? No. I’m usually pretty level-headed. I have to be. But something about Savanna stirs an instinct deeper inside of me than just wanting to be helpful. It isn’t about wanting to help. I need to help.
Savanna couldn’t say no fast enough. I appreciated that I had to convince her. She’s independent and wants to take care of herself, but she also wasn’t closed off to accepting the help once the logic was laid out for her.
I like that.
Not needing more than the six hours of sleep I managed to finally get, I woke up a half hour ago. I’ll be dog tired again by midnight, but between now and then, I have a few boxes I want to get through for the accountant. If Savanna goes right back to bed like I suspect she will, I’ll be gone and back home, and she’ll be none the wiser.
But when the bathroom door opens again, I don’t hear her door close. Instead, footsteps pad down the hall, and a second later she appears in the entryway to the kitchen, bleary eyed and disheveled in a borrowed pair of my sister’s pajamas.
And holy hell, she takes my breath away as she gives me a sleepy smile, rubbing one of her eyes with the back of her hand.
The blue checkered pants hang low on her hips, revealing an inch of her stomach which looks just as tanned as the rest of her. The black t-shirt is so worn it should probably be thrown in the garbage considering I can tell she’s not wearing a bra. How could she be? I know for a fact her underwear are in the wash along with some of my clothes and the scrubs she wore from the hospital.
The blonde beauty in her sleepy state looks perfect in her rumpled condition.
It’s not the first time I’ve had to say “down boy” to my cock. When Savanna and I touched earlier, the heat between us shot straight to my dick and made him want to come out and play. Unfortunately for him, once we got home, the only thing he got was some five-finger action in the shower.
“Is it six in the morning, or six at night? I feel so disoriented,” she says, her voice raspy, the product of smoke and sleep.
The sound goes down my spine, doing nothing to help the situation in my pants. I can’t help but lick my lips, forcing my eyes to stay locked on her face rather than travel to her breasts like they want to. The blonde braid that falls over her shoulder is like an arrow to the succulent peaks.
“Evening,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “Why don’t you go back to bed? No reason you need to get up yet.”
“If I keep sleeping now, I’ll be up in the middle of the night, and it’ll be a horrible cycle,” she says, turning to eye the coffee pot. “Besides, there’s coffee, and it smells amazing.”
“Help yourself. Cups are by the sink.”
She turns to look at me, eyebrows furrowed, then looks at the cupboard near the sink before looking back at the coffee pot. “Why do you have the cups way over there?” she asks, walking over to grab one.
I shrug. “Used to keep the coffee maker over there, but switched it around a while ago.”
“You should really switch your mugs then.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“But at least it would make sense and be organized.”
“And then I would be so confused when I got up in the morning, went to that cupboard to get a mug, and it wouldn’t be there,” I say, pinning her with a mock serious look. “Then I’d have to blame you, and I just don’t think I can have that.”
That earns me a roll of her eyes along with a chuckle as she pours herself a cup, making herself at home as she finds the sugar above the coffee and the milk in the fridge. I watch with interest as she meanders through my kitchen, locating a spoon to stir, not once asking for help. It’s like she belongs here, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it, which seems ridiculous given we’ve just met and nothing is going on between us.
But man, I’d like it to be.
“So,” she starts, leaning over the counter towards me with her cup of coffee in both hands.
She takes a moment to sip the warm liquid, and the look that comes over her is seductive, though I don’t think she intends it to be. My imagination runs wild, though, picturing the way she looks when she comes, and it looks damn similar to her expression thanks to that coffee. I swallow hard to keep from drooling all over the counter, reminding my cock that now is not the time.
“Oh god, that’s so good. So freaking good,” she mumbles, taking another sip, and Jesus, I don’t know if I’m going to survive while she makes love to her coffee, especially when her tongue peaks out and runs along her upper lip.
“So,” I prompt, and as if this couldn’t get worse, I swear to God my voice cracks like a teenager. I clear my throat, but when Savanna’s eyes pop open and she gives me a perplexed look, I know she heard it. She must see something on my face that tells her exactly what’s going on because she suddenly straightens and puts the mug down, clearing her own throat.
“Sorry. You make really good coffee, and I needed a caffeine fix,” she explains, but her cheeks are flushing as she says it. If there was any doubt that she was clueless as to where my mind was, it’s gone now. “So, I was, uh, going to ask what your plans were for the evening.”
That’s a much safer topic than where my head is currently, and I’m grateful for the change.
“I’m headed to the bar,” I tell her casually, bringing my own coffee mug to my lips.
Her voice shifts a couple of octaves higher when she replies, appalled, “The bar?”