follow him through the hall and out into the living room. “Some of it’s in my car downstairs. I have to get the rest. You wouldn’t happen to have a truck, would you?” I apply my hopeful expression again.
He turns around and stares at me. “No. So you can stop trying to get your way with those sexy pouty lips. I only have a motorcycle.”
I can’t tell if he’s flirting or being himself. I think he’s being himself. I retract my pout and laugh uncomfortably. “Do you know anyone who has a truck?”
“James does, but he’s not going to let me use it after what I did.”
“What did you do?”
He grabs a pair of black boots by the door and pulls them on. “I don’t remember. All I know is I borrowed it because my bike was acting up and when I woke up James was standing over my bed with a baseball bat. When I went to check it was parked in the middle of the street, the windows were busted out, and there was a huge dent in the driver’s door.” He laughs at himself. “I should really stop drinking. Come on, roomy. I’ll help you get your stuff.”
“Thank you, Kent.” I follow him out of the apartment and down the stairs to the parking lot, wondering if the ‘clinger’ from the pool was responsible for the damage to James’s truck.
“No problem. This isn’t the best neighborhood. Be careful when you’re coming home. You probably work late hours at Oblivion. You have any pepper spray?”
I smirk at his overprotectiveness. “I do. My sister Becca bought it for me when she moved away for college. She thinks I’m a trusting, klutzy idiot.”
“Why does she think that?”
“Because I’m the girl they write about in horror stories who lets the bad guy in.”
“You better not let any bad guys into my apartment. I’m the only one allowed.” He grins at me and winks one black eye.
In the dark his eyes are insanely magnetizing. I wonder how bad he truly is, and then forbid myself to ever go there again. Bad, Raina!
I smile politely at his joke. “Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome. Not every day you get one.”
“I’m not sure I need it, though. Truly bad boys don’t warn you they’re bad.”
“Maybe. Or maybe this one’s having a lapse in judgment.”
I can’t see it. He let me live here and is helping me bring in my stuff. How bad could he be? “Maybe you’re hard on yourself.”
He regards me intensely for a moment and I force myself to hold his gaze, unable to locate his pupil in that sea of dark. He looks slightly demonic, with his good looks and intense stare. My pulse speeds up.
“Or honest with myself.”
“Or that.” I take a deep, grateful breath when he looks away. No man should have eyes like that. They’re black holes you kind of want to fall in. Must not fall in. “This is me.”
We stop at my packed car and then together we take everything up, sharing a few looks as we pass the other. He’s insistent on making eye contact. I’m insistent not to.
“That it?” he asks as I close my trunk.
“Yeah.” To avoid him, I look at the garbage bag in my hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
On our way up the stairs I can feel him staring at my body. My legs, burning the backs of my thighs with his dark, magnetizing gaze. It leaves my mouth dry and my body highly aware of his. When I look over my shoulder at him he looks up at me shamelessly.
“Watch where you’re going, Raina.”
I turn around and frown, pulling in a breath.
Back in the apartment I take the last of my things into my bedroom to escape him. I start stacking my clothes in one corner until I can get my dresser. I move all of my sheets and pillows into a cocoon on the floor for a makeshift bed. It isn’t grand, but for tonight it will do. After my room looks somewhat welcoming, I head out into the living room.
Kent is on the couch watching a football game. He curses when Miami fumbles and gives the TV the finger. I stand behind him, holding the back of the couch and watching the opposing team recover on Miami’s turnover.
“Have a seat.” Without taking his eyes off the screen he motions to the spot next to him. When I don’t answer, he glances at me. He takes in my pursed lips and wary