For Her Protection: 1 (Personal Protection) by Amber A Bardan Read Free Book Online Page B

vigilante,
right?”
    Connor nodded and turned back into the room.
    * * * * *
    Two hours later, Conner watched Charlize punch the numbers
into the keypad next to the front door of her modern single-story duplex. He
committed the numbers to memory. Politeness would mean waiting for her to give
the code to him, but well—screw that.
    She hung her handbag on a hook and strode into the kitchen.
The she-cat he’d met earlier had vanished and he had no idea what to say to
this subdued creature. Or how to act around her. She-cat he could manage.
She-cat he could fuck until she forgot her problems.
    Cock therapy—the best kind.
    He followed her to the kitchen and watched her swallow some
pills with a glass of water. She tipped her head back and her bedraggled bun
flopped to the side. His fists curled. She was probably in pain. A drop of
water trickled down her chin and trailed across her neck.
    Blood rushed to his cock. He was a bastard. What the hell
was he supposed to do now, comfort her? He was shit at that. Besides, patting
her back would lead to stroking, which would lead to cupping that sweet ass of
hers, which would lead to—fuck. He’d behave tonight. After what she’d been
through he would keep his hands off. But soon. Soon that skin would be his.
    She set down the glass. “You can put your things in the
guest room but you’ll have to sleep on the couch, there’s no extra bed.”
    Connor looked around the open-plan house and—nothing. This
woman had no stuff. The central living area was empty and only a wrinkly,
oversized leather couch and glass coffee table sat in front of a plasma TV in
the corner. Two cardboard boxes rested against one blank wall.
    “Did you just move in?”
    “No. I’ve been here for over three months now.” Her voice
was flat. She picked up her glass again, rinsed it and set it in a strainer next
to the sink.
    He gazed at the couch. A man’s couch. The whole place was
devoid of feminine influence. Girls didn’t live like this, not unless…
    “Who do you live with, Charlize?”
    For the first time since he’d seen her at the hospital her
eyes looked like they focused properly.
    “No one. What are you talking about?”
    He frowned. “That looks like a dude’s couch.”
    Charlize’s forehead scrunched. “So because I have a vagina I
should have floral furniture?”
    She-cat inched back. He wouldn’t smirk, he’d go easy on her
tonight. Kinda. “No I just thought women had taste. That thing’s fucking
hideous.”
    Her gaze snapped to the couch and her mouth slanted. “Yeah
it is, I fucking hate it. It’s the only furniture my ex would let me take. I
figured I’d better keep it.”
    Ex? She’d lived with someone? He crossed his arms to keep
them from grabbing her like a possessive asshole. He wasn’t jealous. He just
didn’t like people touching his stuff—so what if she wasn’t his yet, she would
be soon. He’d have her soft and yielding in no time.
    Yielding. Yeah she would be. He’d strip back that
act—underneath she’d be all woman. He swallowed. “Burn it.”
    A hint of a real smile twitched the slant on her lips. “I
might.”
    Her shoulders drooped again and she strode to a door off the
main living area. “This is the guest room. There are pillows and blankets in
the wardrobe and it has a bathroom. I assume you know how to use a kitchen.
Help yourself to whatever you want, I’m going to bed.”
    Help myself to whatever I want …
    She stood next to the door—bare feet, lopsided bun, still
clutching her shirt together, missing the usual bite of her aloofness. She’d
somehow gotten sexier. Did she have any clue what he planned to help himself
to?
    “You can stop looking at me like that, Caveman. So we’re
clear, my room is off-limits. Don’t come near it, hear me?”
    He grinned and swaggered over to the guest room door. “I can
wait ’til I’m invited, kitten.”
    Charlize backed up to the next door and tugged it open. “Why
don’t you go on and