Page 36 of Living with Fire
“C’mon, let’s go,” I tell Liam, just wanting to get in and out.
“Tell me where to start, boss. I’m not opposed to the underwear drawer,” Liam says, punching me in the shoulder as he strolls across the threshold into Savanna’s apartment like he owns the place.
I grit my teeth together to keep from punching him back. “You won’t be going near her underwear drawer,” I growl at him.
It’s something I’ve already thought about, and I figure it’s safer if I take care of the clothes on the list and he can deal with everything else.
“Pfft, dude, I’ll be way better at picking out the good stuff. You should let me do this for you. This way you can be surprised when you finally land the girl,” he says, taunting me.
He’s a smart fucker because he stays out of my reach as I move into the apartment, the need to hit him growing stronger by the second. I don’t generally condone violence, and I’m usually pretty level-headed, but Savanna seems to be bringing things out in me that I’m not used to. I feel protective over her. While that’s not necessarily out of the norm for me with any human, there’s a drive inside me that seems hardwired to protect her.
“You’re on cell phone, laptop, and purse duty,” I tell him, choosing to ignore his teasing. Instead I take a more thorough look around the place, taking in my surroundings instead of the damage.
Everything I see shouts “Savanna” at me. The couch looks big and comfortable, but the chair is what really catches my attention. I can picture Savanna lounging in it, maybe curled up with a book on a quiet evening or watching a hockey game during the season. Both things she mentioned she liked to do last night at dinner.
Plants are scattered around the apartment, most noticeably within a nook at the window, and I smile at all the life that she has within the place. “Maybe see if you can find a box for the plants too. I doubt they’ll survive if we leave them. Hell, some of them might not survive anyway with the smoke damage.”
“Roger that, Lieutenant.”
I roll my eyes and head for the bedroom, finding more of Savanna in here. A lot more. I overlooked it in the kitchen just inside the apartment door, and then again in the living room, but her neatness can’t be ignored in her bedroom. Everything has a place.
She’s got some jewelry stands on her dresser along with a host of lotions and perfumes. A lamp and book sit on her nightstand. A light gray and pink comforter is crisp on her bed, not a dent in the material, the pillows perfectly placed at the top. The place is feminine, organized, and seems like her.
I head for the closet where she told me a suitcase would be and get to work pulling things out, folding them haphazardly and stuffing them in her luggage. She’s probably going to kill me for it, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Once I’ve checked off everything from the closet, I move to the dresser, pulling out everything except for her underwear.
I’m avoiding that for as long as I can, but it’s inevitable that I’m going to get there.
Honestly, I’ve been simultaneously looking forward to it, and dreading it. The number of times I’ve thought about Savanna in her underwear from the night of the fire is probably reprehensible—I try to be a gentleman, but I’m still a guy—and going through her underwear drawer is only going to add to that mental image. I really don’t want to be a creep, though, so I’ve been trying to psych myself up for it.
I can’t put it off any longer. I’ve got everything that needs to go into the suitcase besides her bras and panties, and toiletries from the bathroom. I could go do those first, but if I have to spend more time in her bedroom afterwards, Liam is going to question me.
Christ, he’s probably going to question me anyway.
I’d rather only go through that once, so I suck it up and pull the drawer open, letting out a low “fuck” the second I see the contents.
This woman.
Everything is arranged by color and material. There’s definitely some obsession with organization there, but I don’t mind it.
Jesus, I think I kind of like it.
My eyes are feasting on an array of lace, satin, and cotton in every color under the sun. I can just picture her in her business getup like she had on the first time we met with a pair of bright coral lace panties beneath that pencil skirt, something only she would know, and it’s hot. Really fucking hot.
“Attaboy,” Liam says from behind me, and I slam the drawer shut, whirling around on him.
“The fuck, man?” I bark at him. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk the size of Texas on his face. “Shouldn’t you be finding a box for the plants?”
“Done. I also did Savanna a solid and cleaned out her fridge. Then I decided to check on your progress. I see it’s going well,” he says, barely containing his laughter.
I know I’m the color of a tomato right now which is probably more obvious in our yellow gear, so I point out the door. “Go be useful and start packing up her bathroom stuff.”
Now he does laugh but heads for the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Okay, but don’t jizz in your pants, dude. It won’t be a good look for you.”
Cursing him beneath my breath, I get back to what I was doing. One good thing about being interrupted is I feel more capable of dealing with the underwear drawer. Though by capable I mean I’m just grabbing handfuls of lace and satin and shoving them into the suitcase, paying no attention to what I’m picking up or where it’s going in the bag.
By the time I’m done, I’ve got most of the drawer emptied, and I’m a little concerned that I look even creepier by bringing along so much of her underwear. Maybe I’ll just explain that I didn’t know what to bring, so I took everything. Or maybe I won’t say anything at all. I’m not entirely sure what sounds less like a disgusting, filthy pig.
“Dude,” Liam says from behind me, but this time his voice is full of apprehension instead of amusement. “What the hell is this?”