12 Inches (Size Matters 1)

“I just want to go somewhere safe,” she says, teeth chattering. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her back into the hotel.

“Mary,” I say, with a quick glance at her nametag and back up to her face, “my driver Antoine will be along in a moment to pay for the room, but he has to find a parking spot first. This woman is going into shock, and I need to take her into a suite. Do you have one open right now?”

With a wide-eyed look at the trembling Lisa in my arms, Mary quickly begins typing and then swiping an electronic key. “Here you are, sir,” she says with a warm smile. “Room 319. Take good care of her.”

Riding up the elevator, Lisa is snuggling against me like a little child and god, I thought I’d wanted to be near her before. I thought I’d been a little obsessed about seeing her twenty minutes earlier. But that didn’t compare at all to the obsession I feel for her now. I snuggle her close to my chest, her perfume wafting up to my nose. I suddenly felt the strongest urge to go back and kill the purse snatcher with my bare hands, but that’d include a lot of paperwork and I just didn’t have time for another lecture from my lawyer about staying out of trouble.

Plus, and more importantly, I’d have to put down Lisa to do it. The very idea is just unthinkable.

I slide the keycard into the door, and, carrying her inside, push the door closed behind me with my foot. I carry her to the bed and gently lay her down on it and begin stripping her clothes off of her. A thin, drapey kind of shirt that god, is fucking sexy, comes off, and then her strapless red bra. Her short skirt and thong underwear are next, after I’d shucked off her stilettos.

She is shivering in earnest now, so I scoop her up and carry her into the understated bathroom, creams and light greens giving it a soothing feeling. I start the hot water in the jetted tub and, forcing myself to ignore her delicious curves, gently slip her into the tub. She’s just sitting there, and that scares me more than anything else. She’s normally funny and sarcastic and cutting and…even the train didn’t seem to throw her off like this did.

I search through the bottles on the counter, finally finding the bubble bath bottle, and pour it into the water. Lavender wafts up to my nose and I smile. Perfect. As she lies back in the tub, I go in search of the mini bar. A swallow or two of whiskey can only help at this point. I pour two fingers into each tumbler and carry them back to the bathroom, handing her one.

“Drink,” I say, brooking no arguments. She obediently drinks, which…well, Lisa never obediently does anything. I toss my own back, starting to feel the road rash on my hands and knees, now that the adrenaline is gone. I glance down at my Armani slacks and see that I’ve torn the knee open. Dammit. Not even my tailor will be able to fix these. I turn off the water and then pull my cell phone out of my pocket.

Bring a change of clothes for myself and Lisa. Have them delivered to room 319.

Sure, Antoine hadn’t been given measurements, but he’d seen Lisa. He’d be able to do it. I don't pay him stupid amounts of money in salary each year because he's a dumbass who needs everything spelled out for him.

Lisa stirs in the water. I slide my phone back into my pocket and brush her hair out of her face, searching her eyes for signs of life. I smile in relief when I see it.

“Hey, there you are,” I say softly. “Glad to have you back in the land of the living.”

She smiles humorlessly up at me. “Yeah, glad to be back. Sorry. I’m not sure what happened there. All these years of living in New York City, and I’d never been mugged by someone. Isn’t that crazy? I think…between this mugging and the train almost killing me, my brain just didn’t know what to do. Too much bad shit for one week, that’s for damn sure.”

I take her empty tumbler from her and refill it.

“Here. Drink,” I say, handing it back to her. She takes it with a wrinkled nose.

“I don’t like whiskey,” she confesses, staring at the amber liquid in her glass.

“I don’t care,” I counter. She glares up at me, trying to be stern, but the laughter creeps in around the edges. I push the glass toward her mouth unrelentingly and with a sigh, she swigs it back.

“Oh…”

Cough, cough.

“My god!”

Cough, cough.

“Next time, just let him take my purse!” she says, relaxing back into the bubbles.

“Your Coach purse?” I ask her, eyebrow cocked.

“Okay, probably not. Next time, if it comes down to saving me or the purse, throw it out of harm’s way first, and then toss my sorry ass after it.”

“Can do.” I stroke her gorgeous blonde hair away from her face again and she grins up at me, finally relaxed. Her eyes, which had been haunted and withdrawn, are back to normal. Okay, maybe a little more drunk than normal.

But that’s a good thing, my cock says.

I ignore it and stand up to clean myself up. Washing up at the bathroom sink, I get the embedded gravel out of my palms and then my knees.

“Oh my god, I didn’t realize you’d been hurt!” she says, staring in horror at my torn slacks.

“Just a couple of scrapes,” I say. “Jumping out of a moving vehicle tends to do that to you.”