Sugar on the Edge(17)

“You scared me,” I say defensively, my heart still pounding like a jackhammer.

“I called out to you,” he throws at me, anger heavy in his voice.

“Well, clearly I didn’t hear you or I would have responded.”

“Clearly,” he sneers. “How could you hear me with all that fucking racket you were making? I’m trying to write for Christ’s sake, and you’re hoovering the house down.”

“Hoovering?” I ask, confused.

“Hoover,” he says as he points to the vacuum cleaner.

“It’s a Dirt Devil,” I say as I look at the bright red model with a devil’s tail on it.

“What?” he asks, confused, his eyebrows drawn inward.

“It’s a Dirt Devil,” I confirm.

“What the fuck ever. We call them hoovers in the UK,” he growls, and I have to resist the urge to laugh. But then he brings me back down to earth by saying, “I can’t have you making all that noise when I’m trying to work.”

“I can’t clean properly without vacuuming,” I tell him. “Hoovering, I mean.”

“Then use a fucking broom so you don’t make any noise,” he snarls as he turns away from me, “or I’ll find someone that can clean my house in a way that caters to my needs, not theirs.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly as he starts to climb the staircase, because I truly am. He’s my employer and I do need to find a way to work around him and fulfill his needs.

“Whatever,” he gripes. “Daft Yank.”

I’m not sure why his words set me off. Maybe it’s because adrenaline is coursing through my body from having the pants scared off me or maybe it’s because I’m tired of being a doormat that certain douche bags walk all over, but I put my job in jeopardy once again when I say, “Why are you always such an asshole?”

The words pop out of my lips so suddenly that I have an insane urge to clap my hand over my mouth. But I don’t. I straighten my spine, stand tall, and cringe internally while I wait for him to bring the hammer down on me.

Gavin turns slowly on the staircase until he’s facing me directly. His eyes are narrowed and his teeth are clenched. “What did you just call me?”

“An asshole,” I confirm. “You’re mean. Really mean, actually.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me a moment. Then my heart really starts pounding when he steps down off the bottom stair and walks toward me. His gait is slow, his eyes holding me in place. He walks right up to me and when I have to crane my neck upward to look at him, I finally take a step backward. It doesn’t stop his momentum though, because he takes another step in my direction, even as I back up. We continue this dance until he backs me right up into a dresser. The halt in my progress doesn’t stop him though, and he takes one more step into me until there’s nothing more than a few inches separating our bodies.

He glares down at me… his eyes probing my gaze deeply. I swallow hard, not knowing if this man is certifiable enough to hurt me, but pretty damn sure he’s getting off on the fact that he’s scaring the daylights out of me.

He surprises me when he brings a hand up and I struggle not to flinch, unsure if he’s going to strangle me or not. Instead, his fingers graze along my jaw before giving it a firm grip to hold me in place. “So, you think I’m an asshole?”

I lick my lips once and swallow again to wet my tongue. “Yes,” I whisper.

The frostiness in his gaze dissipates, and he slides his thumb over my chin. The move is soft, sensual, and his breath fans out over my face in a rush of cinnamon scent. “You’re an interesting woman,” he muses.

“I am?” I ask, my voice still held hostage by fear, but also something else that I can’t quite put my finger on. Curiosity? Excitement?

“Indeed,” he murmurs. “I thought your backbone was made of jelly. I’m thinking I might have misjudged you a bit.”

I don’t know how to respond, and I’m slightly offended he would think that. Sure, I’m quiet and a bit withdrawn, and yeah… I’ve put up with all kinds of shit from Eric, but I’m not without mettle. As evidenced by the fact I just called him an asshole, which admittedly, is a bit of a surprise even to myself that I did it.

“Tell me, sweet Savannah.” His voice pours out of his mouth smooth as melted chocolate. “Did I piss you off the other night… at that bar?”

“No,” I immediately deny.

“Little liar,” he whispers and grazes his thumb across my chin again and, this time, my body shivers in reaction. He sees that and chuckles deep in his chest, clearly delighted to have that power over me. “You’re not just interesting. I find you positively fascinating.”