Page 9 of Decker

“Hey.”

Savannah moved next to him, her hair still wet from the shower she’d taken, and his mind immediately imagined her naked and wet, the water gliding over her silky skin. His body got tight, and he had to force himself to step away in case he reached for her. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts she’d snuck up on him and that hadn’t happened to him in longer than he could remember. She was wearing skinny jeans and an old University College London hoodie. He knew she’d done her neuro training down there, but he realised he didn’t know much else, apart from that she was divorced.

He snorted as he saw her pour coffee into a mug which read ‘Yes, I’m a doctor. No, I don’t want to look at it!’

“So, what can I do to help?”

“Honestly, not a lot.”

“Mark, if you don’t put me to work, I’m going to crash and then you’ll have to put up with me snoring on the sofa.”

His lips twitched in a rare smile, and he found himself not just lusting after her but liking her more with every interaction. “Okay, doc, let’s get you a job to do.”

Her smile was genuine, and for the rest of the morning they worked side by side, with her handing him tools and asking him questions about mundane things. Normally preferring quiet, he found her mellow tones soothing and easy.

Around lunchtime he noticed she was flagging, her conversation slowing, and when he looked around, she was fast asleep in the armchair, almost sitting upright. He felt bad again for waking her.

Placing the cable he was using aside, he moved closer to her and crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet as he did. She looked nothing like the siren who’d challenged him yesterday. She’d been sexy as all hell, but this Savannah tugged at his heart in much more dangerous ways. She made him want things, like to kiss her, and protect her, to wake up with her. She was funny and clever, sexy and caring and it was a deadly combination.

“I don’t want to want you.”

He rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers and wondered what it would feel like gliding over his chest. A pang of regret moved through him, what it could be like if he was a different man. If he wasn’t battling the guilt and the demons he tried to keep locked up so damned tight all the time. What-ifs swam through his head as he bent and lifted her into his arms with infinite tenderness, that he’d deny and brush off as something anyone would do.

He settled her against him and walked to her stairs as she snuggled closer against his body and sighed in contentment, his movements not waking her.

She must be exhausted.

He found her room, the scent of her filling it and making his jeans feel tight in the crotch. Pulling back the quilt, he laid her down. She rolled onto her side, her hands going beneath her cheek like an innocent child.

Bending, he pulled off her boots, taking care not to wake her, and pulled the quilt around her. Stepping back, he wondered at the urge to climb in next to her and pull her into his arms. To hold her as she slept and listen to the sounds of her breathing, her warmth surrounding him.

It had been so long since he’d held a woman while she slept. His wife had been the last person he’d touched that way. He wasn’t a monk and he’d fucked around plenty but holding them while they slept, falling asleep with a woman, was something he didn’t allow himself. It came with too much risk. Yet as he watched Savannah sleep, he found himself wanting that more and more. He didn’t know what it was about the good doctor, but she’d woken something in him, and he was having a hard time shoving it back in the box marked ‘do not open’.

It was the reason he’d dismissed her at the wedding, why he felt the desire to needle her every chance he got. Because deep down he knew she had a power over him that if he allowed her in, she’d break down his carefully constructed walls and leave what was left of his heart exposed, and he couldn’t take that chance.

He wondered if there was a way to have both. Have her in his life and in his bed, and still keep his heart safe and tucked away, where nobody could cause him the kind of pain that still left him having panic attacks in the middle of the night.

Rules, that was what he needed. Maybe if they had rules, they could play out this crush, get rid of this lust and stay safe. Just like the suits he wore were his armour against people approaching, and his aloof attitude stopped people from getting close unless he deemed them safe. Maybe a strict set of rules would allow him to have his cake and eat it.

Looking at her sleeping, he very much wanted to eat his cake.