Hello my absolutely lovely friends! I am blown away by the feedback on the first chapter. Thank you all so much!
Here is chapter 2 and chapter 3 is already finished, I'm just proofreading and chapter 4 is in the works.
Now, this was a long one, which I personally don't mind, I actually enjoy them better. However, I reread this so many times trying to find somewhere to end it and I don't know if I'm happy where it cuts off but didn't feel right being as long as it was originally. Sigh lol.
Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.
—————————
After replying a quick "you're welcome" and "night" back to Sansa I fell into a deep sleep.
My alarm wakes me too early and it's only then I remember my plan of going into the office. Fuck that shit. I'm still drained and quickly call Bronn to tell him about the elevator (minus Sansa for now) and let him know I'll try to be there around lunch time.
After laughing at my expense over the lift debacle, my best friend and business partner tells me not to worry and he'll see me when he sees me. The man drives me bonkers sometimes but I wouldn't be here without him.
Thankfully I'm able to resume my slumber for a couple more hours before my stomach and bladder demand I get up. A long piss later, I hop in the shower and instantly I'm bombarded with images of Sansa.
After not dreaming of her last night, I thought maybe I could escape the hold I could feel her taking on me. No such fucking luck apparently.
I hate myself for it but my hand instantly grasps my cock and starts stroking. The memories from last night are so vivid it's like I'm with her. I can smell her hair, feel her body against mine during our hug. Sansa's laugh and voice drift through my mind as if she's next to me and it's so bloody real I cum quickly, coating the glass wall of my shower in streaks of white.
Taking my time I scrub myself red, still feeling dirty by the end of it, before drying and dressing for the day and it's still only ten, I'm shit at sleeping.
Between the long, late night and my emotions over Sansa running wild, I feel reminiscent of a zombie.
I pull my grey long sleeved polo over my head when there's a knock at my front door. My first instinct is to be on the defensive. I don't often have company and if do, I'm aware they're coming ahead of time. Deciding against grabbing my hand gun from the nightstand, I tread barefoot across my flat to see who's bothering me.
As soon as I open the door I realize I'm about to be the bloody opposite of bothered.
Standing on my threshold, looking more beautiful than I remember, is Sansa Stark and I can't stop myself from soaking her in.
Her hair is on top of her head, looking damp, the black leather jacket she's wearing over a white shirt has her skin glowing in contrast. Those legs that I would kill to have wrapped around my waist, or face, are covered in skin tight ripped jeans and the heels on her boots still don't have her passing my chin.
"Good morning! I'm so glad you're still home."
"Uh, you are?" I'm honestly puzzled.
"Of course! Otherwise I would be drinking and eating all of this alone." Sansa nods towards her tray of coffee cup and bags of treats.
She doesn't let me reply before she's rambling on. Gods, how could I have missed her voice already?
"I couldn't wait until our dinner to show you how much I appreciate you for last night. And I remembered you said something about not making it to work on time today so I thought I'd push my luck and see if you had left yet."
I had mumbled to myself at one point last night that my "fucking schedule was going to be fucked thanks to the fucking electricity going out" and Sansa's face had immediately looked stressed for me. She can't be real.
"One topic we didn't cover however was coffee, so I just got you my order, it's simple and I'm hoping it can't go wrong. And seeing as my cupboards and fridge are empty I wasn't able to bake you my homemade lemon shortbread cookies but the lemon cake at Starbucks is a good stand-in. Oh! And they have Easter cake pops, I couldn't resist."
"You're just like a little bird aren't you?"
Sansa's happy face turns slightly lost. "Am I?"
Shit, that should've stayed in my brain. "Fuck, sorry. Didn't mean anything by it, I'm no good with words and they come to you fast and furious is all. Like chirping."
To my immense relief she laughs and looks at me with that bright, happy face she wears so damn well. "Little bird? I like that much better than "chatterbox" or "verbal diarrhea" as my family and Arya call me."
I chuckle at the latter nickname. "Aye, suppose it is."
A brief silence falls between us and I realize she's still in the bloody hallway. Clegane you fool, invite her in!
"Crap, sorry again. Come in." I stand aside so she can slip past me.
"I don't want to bother you Sandor." That veil of insecurity and shyness falls over her, like last night.
"You're not, come on now." I work on my smile once more.
"Thank you. I won't be in your way for long. The building manager is coming by to hang my art and photos this morning."
"You don't waste any time."
"If I hadn't organized it for today they'd all be leaning against a wall three months from now." She jokes.
"Do you know if it's Bolton Senior or Junior coming to install your things?" I'm hoping like hells she knows and that it's the former Bolton family member.
The old man is a gruff person but good at the end of the day and does his job well. His bastard son is an issue. His father is attempting to train him to take over his job once he retires but Ramsey doesn't have it in him. Mostly because I'm sure he's a psychopath. And I'm not exaggerating. His own dad has casts him some scared and concerned looks, even while in the company of the residents.
"Senior. He told me his son is in college and he may help him with tasks come summer."
I nod, relieved, as Sansa removes her jacket and purse, laying them on a dining chair. She comes back to where I'm placing plates on the island, and she begins unpacking her goodies for us. It hits me, as we move around my kitchen, that we're like a team, as if we've done this many times before. My stomach does that damn squeezing. I refuse to use butterflies in a sentence to describe myself.
"There's sugar and sweetener as well."
"Will I need it for my pumpkin spice latte?" I tease.
Sansa looks at me in disgust before chuckling. "You're in luck. I have a severe caffeine addiction and that wouldn't do for my first coffee of the day. Or ever. I don't like PSLs."
"And what is in my cup then?"
"A flat white. Only those, americanos or good old filtered coffee will do the job in the morning.
Especially after such an eventful evening." She looks at me cheekily.
And gods it does things to me. I have to clear my throat and go about stirring my drink to center myself.
Sansa is still smiling but I think she senses I need a minute. "I don't mind fluffy drinks sometimes but they're more like dessert, lets be honest."
"Any of those would've been fine. You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble. Like I said I'm glad I was there, that I could help. But thank you."
"You're welcome! I was happy to and it's nice to have company to start off my first day of city life."
"What else are you doing today?" I wish she was going to be with me.
Down boy!
"After Mr. Bolton leaves I'll call my manager and then head out into the great unknown and try to find a grocery store or market. My empty kitchen is depressing."
"I'm not working a full day, I could show you where I go shopping." Did I really just say that?
If I thought she was in a good mood before, my seemingly simple offer has her looking at me as though I told her she won the lotto. "Really? I don't want to put you out. Plus, I know you had some things with you last night."
"Aye but I just got essentials from the off license. I'm due for a big haul."
"Wine is an essential?" She smirks at me. "I'm glad we agree on that."
We stand at the counter, and eat cake while we finish off our coffee in silence. It's not awkward as I continue expecting it to be. I'm more comfortable and happy than I've been, well, ever.
"Your shortbread is better than this you say?" I ask before popping the last bite of my lemon slice into my mouth. I've never had it before but it was bloody delicious.
"Oh yes. If I hadn't become a writer I would've been a baker."
"Holy hells, you've got more talent in your pinky finger than I do in my whole body."
She goes slightly pink and laughs. "I doubt that, but I have two passions that I'm lucky enough to be good at as well." Sansa says, looking me over covertly, well trying.
I'm about to say something further, who knows what exactly, but I want to commend her more, she deserves it. However, I'm interrupted by a dinging sound.
"Oh! That's my alarm, I have to head back and wait for Mr. Bolton."
"Right. Well, thanks again."
"No problem. I'll leave your cake pop here, they're my guilty pleasure." Sansa tells me and her tongue pops out to wet her lower lip. Meanwhile, my dick weeps onto my boxers.
I rub my hand along the back of my neck trying to calm down. "Uh, yeah, great."
Sansa picks up her things and walks to the door and I watch her hips and ass the entire time. I can't even bring myself to feel bad, it's the best fucking view.
She spins around just short of grabbing the knob and I worry I've been caught. "Message me later about grocery shopping, and let me know when to be ready."
My heart starts racing in excitement. I'll get to see her again. "I will." I reach around her to open the door, attempting to be chivalrous. Instead, I force her to press her back flush to my chest to allow enough room for the door to open and then she wriggles past me to leave.
I worry she'll be offended or even upset about being so close to me. To my scars. But I swear she actually takes her time making her way out the doorway, lingering against my body.
Sansa makes her way to her flat, walking backwards with a face like heaven. "I'll see you later Sandor."
Sandor Bobblehead is back and I can't force myself to do more than nod and wave. This afternoon can't come soon enough.
I stomp into our office after gunning my Audi here in record time. Bronn and I bought the building as a real estate investment at first but quickly decided to utilize the basement through to the fourth floor for the security firm, Tormund's London division of his "Wildling Construction" company and then last year we opened our gym to the public.
Much to my chagrin.
I had competed in a few high profile charity boxing matches when I was a bodyguard for a cheesey celeb. The reality stars decided it was better for the help to partake in the fundraiser as it was too risky for them to fight, even for a laugh, since they spend so much money on their bloody plastic faces.
Once set up in London, Bronn and I flew slightly under the radar for a bit but one high profile client boasts about us to the papers and we were a household name overnight. "Kingsguard Security" took on more clients than we could handle at first.
My reputation has followed me all these years no matter if I want it to or not. Add in the fact Bronn was a top solider for the better part of a decade and people were begging us to open the gym beyond our staff, to add personal trainers and a boxing ring. My annoying best friends (Tormund has shares in our company and vice versa) were so bloody excited I couldn't deny them.
Bronn indulges the masses and will walk around and help the patrons work out sometimes, but I down right fucking refused to teach boxing. We both hand chose driven, straight laced fitness freaks who run a good, tight ship.
"Osha." I greet our assistant and office manager. She's more than that really. Her and her wife Roz are good friends. Bronn and I never spend a holiday or birthday alone. They open their home to us both like we're family. It's closest I've ever had.
"Hey Bossman. You alright? Heard where you were during that lovely power outage." She can't stifle a laugh.
I groan, thanks Bronn. "I'm fine. Had just been to the shop and Chopstix for supper, wasn't a bad few hours." That's the understatement of the year. "You and the family were okay?"
"The girls were asleep already so Roz and I ate all the ice cream in the freezer. Couldn't let it go to waste." She winks at me.
I chuckle at her excitement over alone time with her wife. Lucky, those two are. "Good."
I sit at my desk and start going through any emails I didn't reply to on my phone over the weekend, getting lost in my duties. Immersed in correspondence and final models for some rich fucker's mansion in Mallorca, (we go international for certain clients) an hour disappears and I'm only aware of the time when Bronn barges into my office.
"What's up motherfucker?" He bellows as he tosses a sandwich my way, already digging into his own.
"Thanks for knocking."
"Ha! Don't you mean, oy mate, thanks for lunch?"
I just flip him the bird and start eating.
"You here all day? Didn't think I'd even see you after your lovely evening." Bronn smiles around a mouthful of food.
I chug some water, deciding if I should tell him about Sansa or not. She feels like more than a neighbor already but after today it could all fizzle out. I'm not concerned he'll say a word to anyone else. If I ask to talk in confidence he would chop off a finger before speaking about the topic to another soul.
And let's be honest, I need the advice.
"Uh, well, it actually was lovely." I throw his word back at him, lacking the sarcasm he used.
"Jerk off in a lift did you?" He erupts in laughter.
"Fuck off. Forget it." I know he's only joking but it's taking a lot of fucking balls to tell him this and I'm easily discouraged on a good day.
"Wait, you're not kidding? Sorry big man, I didn't realize. Tell me what happened then." Bronn goes to close my office door, sitting back down completely serious now. He can switch to whatever is needed from him in an instant.
I run my hands down my face, feeling like a damn teenager with a crush. Guess that statement is half right. "I wasn't alone when the power went out."
Bronn just stares at me, not speaking, a rarity for him. "You were bringing someone home?"
"Gods no. The new tenant on my floor moved in yesterday and we got stuck together."
His face is lighting up now, turning mischievous. "Please say it was a hot lass."
I don't want to describe Sansa that way, even if it's true. My pause answers for me.
Bronn fist pumps the air and woots a noise of glee. "I already know you didn't shag her, not your style. But you, locked in a confined place with a female should be enough to "keep you going" for a while. I'm happy you were pushed out of that small comfortable box you keep yourself in."
"I am too actually." His eyebrows meet his hairline. I heave a great sigh and tell him everything, giving Sansa a run for her money with how easily the story flows from me.
Bronn leans his head back, soaking in my tale it seems. "Holy fucking shit. Can I see her?"
"What?"
"You said how bloody gorgeous she was, in detail, about twenty times just now, I want to see what all the fuss is about."
I'm shocked he hasn't said anything else about well, any of it, but I pull up her WhatsApp picture and give him my phone.
The photo she has on her profile is a candid shot. Sansa is looking to the side, laughing happily, the background makes me think she's abroad and celebrating with a glass of wine.
She looks like utter fucking perfection.
Bronn's eyes go as wide as his mouth and he stares at the screen for a solid minute.
"Alright, enough of your gawking, give it back." I hold out my hand impatiently.
He blinks a few times but finally hands it over. "You lucky piece of shit!" The trance he was in disappears as quickly as it came on. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. What's her body like?" Bronn is leaning forward, jiggling his knee in excitement.
"None of your fucking business!" I roar. The reaction erupts from me before I even realize how pissed his question made me feel.
"Ah-ha! You really do like her. Fuck mate, we've never had a conversation like this in all our years of friendship."
He's right. I've been completely alone since moving to London and honestly, it started before then. Fine, my whole life. It's obviously not easy for me to meet people, let alone date them.
"I know. I'm out of my depth here." I admit, burying my face in my hands.
"Clegane look at me." Bronn demands and doesn't speak until I meet his gaze. "You're ace mate. The only family I have and I wouldn't want it any other way. This might be different for you, but don't forget that she's lucky to have met you as well." He pins me with a hard stare, daring me to argue.
When he trusts I'll stay quiet he continues. "I won't sugar coat it, women are difficult. This may be your first time asking for advice but it won't be your last. Even if you were a ladies man like me." He pretends to flick his short back and grins.
"Are you going to babble on like an idiot or help me out?" I bark.
"I do love a good babble but seeing as you're pressed for time I'll get to the good stuff." Bronn leans his forearms on his thighs, coming as close to me as possible with my desk between us.
"Be yourself."
He's got to be fucking kidding me. "That's your oh so insightful advice, for me to be myself?" I practically spit, waving a hand in my own general direction.
"This isn't a hit it and quit it situation. Your ginger girl needs to know who she is dealing with here. You're a good man. Fun too when you allow that side out. But you're a gruff and rough dog too. Push yourself a bit. Be chatty and flirty, give her compliments. Birds fawn over that shit. But acting like someone you're not and saying things you usually wouldn't, is a waste of time."
We sit in silence for a while. He's right. If we're to make anything of this connection between us (and hopefully it's not one sided) then Sansa has to get to know me for who I am. Scars, flaws, damages, the lot.
Sighing, I give in and nod. "Asshole. Hate it when you're right." Bronn bellows out a laugh.
"And I love it! Now, what time are you meeting her for your domesticated afternoon?"
"I haven't said anything yet..." I trail off, feeling stupid. Why have I waited this long?
"Clegane! Get on it you fucking fool."
I pick up my cell from my desk and stare at our messages from last night, drawing a blank at what to type.
"Stop overthinking. Just say something nice, ask her a question, what the fuck ever, and then tell her when you're picking her up." Bronn says plainly, as if telling me what time it is and slips out the door, closing it behind him.
Rolling my eyes I say the first thing that comes to mind.
Sandor: All your pieces where you want them?
Sansa reads it immediately and starts typing almost as fast.
Sansa: They actually are! Mr. Bolton was great. My flat is starting to feel homey.
Sandor: I'm glad to hear it.
Sandor: Can I pick you up at 3:00pm for your grocery store tour? If that doesn't work just tell me when.
Sansa: That's perfect. You're a life saver. Are we walking or driving?
My cheeks heat at her words. And I want to slap myself for my reaction. Pussy.
Sandor: Driving would be best. We can take my car?
Sansa: Sounds great! See you then and yes I'm saying it again, thank you!!
I grin at my phone for longer than necessary, reading our back and forth several times.
Attempting to distract my nerves and excitement proves impossible. I can't even forward an email to Tormund from a client looking for an estimate.
My palms are sweaty, my stomach feels like it's full of cement and my pulse is quicker than normal.
I leave earlier than I need to, throwing in the towel and heading home to freshen up before getting Sansa.
Who the hells am I, "freshen up", I'm losing my mind.
After brushing my teeth and hair, swiping on more deodorant and even opening the cologne Osha got me for Christmas, (she was right, it smells bloody amazing) I make the short journey to Sansa's flat.
I knock on her door and my shirt must be vibrating with how hard my heart is beating.
It feels simultaneously like an eternity and yet a millisecond while I wait for her to open up.
And when she does, even though I saw her only hours ago, my breath gets stuck in my throat from just the sight of her.