His muscles stretch his fitted t-shirt and jeans like a work of art. The dancer in me wants to climb all over him like a living jungle gym.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
He closes a cabinet door and frowns. “Coffee. I was going to make you coffee to start your day. Or don’t you drink it?”
I shake my head, trying to tamp down the pleasure at hearing he wants the coffee for me, not himself. “Not unless I buy it from Starbucks. I usually make a smoothie in the morning. You want one?”
He appears surprised. “Um, yeah. That’d be nice.”
I walk past him to the refrigerator and start talking out ingredients. “What do you usually have for breakfast?” I’m picturing him as a steak and eggs kinda guy, considering he’s a wolf.
Speaking of wolf, I thought of a million questions to ask him, but I don’t know if he’s receptive to answering, considering I’m not supposed to know anything.
“Oh, I’m a can of Red Bull and anything else in sight kinda guy.” There’s a self-deprecation in his tone that I hate, although I can’t put my finger on why it bothers me so much. It’s kinda like he’s assuming I’m going to judge.
I bustle past him and start throwing stuff into the blender: frozen wild blueberries, organic raspberries, a dash of pure cherry juice, a banana, a couple handfuls of spinach, gelatin for my protein, spirulina, water, and a squeeze of lemon. I blend it up and pour it into two tumblers with lids and straws.
When I hand Jared his, he wears this heavy-lidded gaze, like smoothie making is some kind of erotic artform.
“Thanks.” His deep voice sends butterflies fluttering in my belly. He chugs it down in three gulps and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Delicious. Thank you, beautiful.”
“I-I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“Don’t let me slow you down.” He lays that charming grin on me, the one that causes girls at the club flash their boobs and make utter fools of themselves.
I spin around and head for the bathroom, quick, before I join that club.
Of course, the entire time I’m in the shower I’m thinking of him. Imagining what would happen if he decided to barge in. Did I purposely leave the door unlocked?
I fear I did.
But he doesn’t come in. Which is a good thing, considering I have classes all day. Still, I’m unbelievably self-conscious as I run from the bathroom to my bedroom in nothing but a towel. Why didn’t I bring my clothes into the bathroom with me?
I’m pretty sure I hear Jared chuckle as I shut my door, which makes it all the worse. I shouldn’t let him get me flustered in my own home. I throw on my dance clothes and pull a pair of shorts and t-shirt over my tights and leotard. My hair goes up into two buns on the top of my head-antennae style, not the Princess Leia style.
When I come out, Jared’s holding up a wall in the front room, looking at his phone. He drags in a long, slow breath when he sees me, eyes devouring me like I’m sex on a stick, not a dorky bunhead who has to dress out for ballet first thing in the morning.
Well, I guess he is the big bad wolf.
And that thought shouldn’t get me so wet.
“Okay, so I have classes all day-I won’t be home until six or so.” I raise my eyebrows at him.
He takes my keys from my hand and locks the door after us. “Great. I’ll drive.”
I stop walking. “Wait… what?”
“Did you think I’d just meet you back here at six? No, baby, I’m your shadow. I go where you go.” He walks toward my car.
“You-you can’t go to classes with me!” I splutter.
He stops at the driver’s side and leans on the roof of the car. His grin is wicked. “I can, yes.”
I arch a brow. “Oh really? You’re going to take ballet?”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“So how do you know I won’t tell someone during class? This is stupid, Jared. You can’t be with me every minute of the day. You don’t need to come to school with me.”
“I have my orders. I’m to stick to you like glue.” He gives my body and up and down sweep. “And that suits me just fine.”
The flutters in my belly make it hard to maintain a hard line. I have to admit, there’s something appealing about having Jared as an attachment. But it’s also utterly ridiculous. I cock a hip. “You can’t. You won’t fit in. What will I tell people?”
His smile falters and I have the brief impression I’ve hurt him, although I can’t fathom why. “Tell them I’m your bodyguard. Come on, get in. You’re going to be late for class.”
“You don’t even know when my class is!” I protest, but he’s right.
“I do, actually. I checked your phone and shared your calendar.”
I fish out my phone and stare at it. “And what? Did you bug it, too?”
When he doesn’t answer, my jaw drops. “Are you serious?” I’m suddenly scared again. I’m in way over my head with an organization-a species?-I don’t even understand. I thought I could trust Jared, but now I’m not sure.
“Hey, hey.” As usual, he picks up my vibe. “Calm down. What did I promise you?”
I clutch my bag so tight my knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” I mutter-snap.
“You’re safe with me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“As long as I don’t tell.” I say it as a statement, not a question.
He nods. “As long as you don’t tell.”
“And if I do?”