Morning everyone!
I'm back from my trip and MAN AM I MISSING MY GIRLS! The trip was amazing. Probably even life-changing. But I did miss my bed.
Anywho! Some have said this Bella is a little too feisty but...I kind of love it. If anyone can calm Edward the fuck down, it's her, right? And don't worry...they'll make their way to each other ;) I don't have it in me not to do an HEA so fret not!
Jill, Ariel, and Pearly beta. Fran is my amazing beta. I don't own any of the copyrighted shit, but you readers own my heart!
Hope your week has been as good as mine has!
Isabella walks into the closet, and I have to remind myself of the weight of the gun in my harness in case she tries to pull anything. I'm a trained professional; I can handle one tiny girl barely over five feet on my own.
I try not to flinch when she emerges with a small, black bag.
Are these her killing tools? Is she going to do this right here, right now?
She glances at me, then down at my hand, pulling her lower lip into her mouth to chew on it. I wonder why her guard is down this way with me, especially after accusing me of stalking her, even though I don't think she's exactly serious about it.
"I don't know why you look so nervous; I don't bite. That's all you." I tease her this way because I'm still on a mission. I still need to procure this date. And in order to do that, I need to win her over.
But Jesus fuck, when she gives me just the smallest, softest smile and a little huff of breath that's almost a giggle, I know somewhere in the back of my head it's going to be really hard not to fall for this girl.
"You're hilarious; now let me see that hand," she teases back.
I oblige, resting it face up on my knee where my legs are splayed slightly apart.
But then she does what I've been dreaming of her doing since we met. Well, part of it anyways.
She drops to her knees, fitting herself in the space between my legs, and unzips the bag to get out a few alcohol wipes.
One peek inside tells me I was beyond stupid for thinking it was some sort of kill kit. It really is just your standard, first aid bag.
"This might sting a little," she whispers, gently pressing the wipe to my skin.
When all the blood is gone, she gets a new pad and presses it into the cut. She's firm, but not cruelly so. Just enough to clean it thoroughly.
I notice I'm breathing a little heavier than I was before, and I shift in my seat. I'm trying to will away the dread that comes from wondering if she's nothing like she seems through the screen of my computer and cling to the small bit of hope that she is.
"Everything okay?" She asks, her eyes flicking up to mine.
Oh yeah, great, just wondering if you're using your feminine wiles to win me over so you can murder me. No big deal.
Her eyes are big, and shiny, and innocent, and part of me thinks there's no way these are the eyes of a killer.
But it's always the one you least expect.
