Wait For Me

KYRA

Chance scoops me up like I weigh absolutely nothing to him. He takes his big hand and pushes the back of my head into his shoulder, trying to hide my face. Then he rushes toward the back of the office before I’m seen.

He closes the door and then sets me down on my feet. He even locks the door, making me feel surprisingly safe even though I’m standing in a tiny office with a huge, giant of a man, who could probably snap me in two without blinking. I knew he was tall, but holy fuck, standing this close to him, I feel like a child.

“Who was that?” he demands, a raspy grumble of a voice that is hot as hell emanates from his mouth. His gorgeous eyes, which lean toward an ocean blue but perhaps had flecks of purple and gray, seem to stare into my soul.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry. I was just startled. You can go now. I’ll sneak out the back door.”

He looks at me as if he hasn’t heard a damn thing I said. “Who the fuck was that?” he asks, even more demandingly. Instead of being appalled at his attitude, a strange comfort settles over me, knowing he actually cares to know why I was scared.

“My foster father.” I look down at my feet.

He’s silent for a minute, and I’m scared to look back at his gorgeous face—seriously, it’s perfect—to read his expression. Even with a nose that looks like it has been broken a few times, he’s fucking drool-worthy, and I hate it.

“How old are you?” he asks.

I feel the urge to lie to him. I don’t want him to think I’m a baby, but because I feel he’s actually trying to protect me, I decide to confide in this man I’ve known for less than half an hour. “I’m seventeen,” I whisper.

“Fuck,” he whispers back and turns around and walks away from me. He walks over to the small desk and leans on it, staring at me, making me feel extremely vulnerable. I cross my arms over my chest as if it’s going to hide me from his gaze.

“Does your foster father hurt you?” he asks me with the slightest bit of concern on his hard face. He pushes off the desk and heads toward me again.

“N-no, not really.”

“What does ‘not really’ mean, Kyra?” he demands as he grabs my chin, not letting me look away from him again. His touch literally feels electric…as stupid as that sounds. His hard eyes and the set of his jaw tell me this isn’t a question, but an order. He wants to know.

“He’s smacked me around a few times, okay?” I shake my head, pulling away. “But I’ve learned to just listen to him, so it’s fine. I’m fine. I-I sneak out of the house when he goes to bed some nights and come here.” I smile, willing it to reach my eyes. “I think the staff feels bad for me, so they treat me well.”

I point toward the door. “I didn’t expect him to show up tonight. There’s a party at the house.” Suddenly, all the adrenaline in my body is gone, and I sag. “If he sees me out, he’ll kill me!”

Tears well up in my eyes, and before I know it, I’m crying in front of a fucking stranger. A frown creases his brow, and then suddenly, his hands are around my waist—not in a sexual way at all, but in a sweet, caring way.

He pulls me into him and gives me a strong hug. I relax as I breathe in his warm scent of vanilla and a hint of something fresh, like pine mixed with a bit of cigarette and oil. He smells like a sexy-ass man.

He hugs me briefly, then releases me. He takes a step back, leaving me feeling cold. I let out an actual shiver, which makes him frown at me again.

“I should get home.”

He stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head. “I don’t like the idea of sending you back to a place that makes you this afraid,” he says. There doesn’t seem to be any emotion behind his words, but it’s still the most heartwarming statement I’ve heard.

“You don’t even know me.” I smile shyly up at him.

“I want to know you,” he says, shocking me and obviously shocking himself too. He looks almost…afraid. He takes another step back from me. “I’m giving you a ride home,” he says.

“Umm, no.” I shake my head and head toward the door. “I live a block away. Someone will hear your bike.”

“Fine. Then, I’m walking you,” he says as he follows behind me.

I’m about to argue, but I think it’s best just to listen to this guy. I cautiously peek my head out of the office door and then sneak out the back. Chance follows right behind me. We walk in silence down the narrow back alley, careful to stay out of sight from the street. We walk closely, our hands even brushing a couple of times—three times, to be exact. We continue in silence for a minute.

“Give me your phone,” he tells me. He doesn’t ask; this isn’t a request at all.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my old cracked iPhone. He hands it back to me after a minute. “Call me if you ever need anything. I’ll be in town every once in a while. Just… Let me know.”

I smile at him, feeling oddly comforted by this huge stranger. “Text me right now,” he says as he lights up a smoke. “That way, I have your number too.” I look at my phone and see he added himself as Chance with an emoji of a coin beside his name. I text him.

We approach the back entry of my house. I look over to see his eyes widen in shock when he sees the mansion. “Looks nice on the outside,” I whisper. He doesn’t say anything, and we stop walking once we get to the gate.

“So, you text me,” he says.

“How old are you?” I finally ask. The more I look at him, the more I’m convinced he isn’t much older than me; maybe a few years older, five at most, his youthful features betraying his age.

His eyes caress me before he gives me the sexiest smirk. “Too old for you, angel.” I blush at him like a little schoolgirl, proving he’s right.

“Tell me.” I flutter my eyelashes at him, but he clenches his jaw and shakes his head.

“Don’t look at me like that, Kyra,” he hisses. I take a step back, feeling hurt and slightly embarrassed. He invades my space instantly again, which makes my heart race like crazy. He leans down and kisses my forehead softly, even hesitatingly, before he pulls away.

Then he turns around and leaves me.