Nothing Left to Lose (Guarded Hearts 1)

The school knew of our situation and that I wasn’t actually a college student, so I wasn’t going to be expected to hand in any masterpieces – which was handy considering I couldn’t draw.

Anna had agreed, finally, to stay with me at all times – even bathroom breaks where I’d have to stand outside and wait for her. We’d already agreed that I could kiss her a couple of times throughout the day so that the boyfriend story stuck. She’d even consented to trying to meet up with the friends that we’d made over the weekend for lunch so that we could integrate with society better and move easier through the crowd.

Of course, Anna had scolded me a few times at how seriously I was taking this whole operation. She’d called it “going overboard.” She’d accused me of acting too much like a SWAT officer rather than secret service, but I’d let it slide. She didn’t know about Carter and his letters; if she did, then she wouldn’t be as hostile about being guarded. She’d promised to be on her best behaviour and let me deal with any issues so that she wouldn’t be kicked out of yet another school. I had high hopes for her at this one, hopefully my arrangements would allow her to finish her course and start to take a hold on her anger and insecurities that she had deep-rooted inside her.

While she was getting dressed, I put my hands on my hips and did a few stretches. My body was really starting to protest about sleeping on the floor, but thankfully I’d received an email last night saying that the sofa bed would be delivered this afternoon. Peter was going to take delivery of it for me, so at least I’d have something soft to sleep on tonight, which would hopefully make me feel less like an old man.

When the door handle of the bedroom moved, my stomach seemed to twist into a knot. I frowned and shook my head at myself. I knew I had it bad now, but this was bordering on ridiculous. I was so excited to see her, yet I’d only seen her over breakfast forty minutes ago. This didn’t bode well for me.

As she stepped into the kitchen with a tentative, nervous smile on her face, my heart seemed to stop. She looked so hot that my mouth actually started to water. My eyes slid down her frame, taking it all in slowly as she played with her fingers and chewed on her lip, waiting for my opinion on her outfit. The insecurity about wearing normal clothes was clearly still there.

I gulped. The black shorts she wore came to about mid-thigh, showing off her long, gorgeous legs. My hands were itching to trace the line of them and feel the soft skin under my fingers. The tight, black top she had on clung to her flat stomach and pert br**sts, showing a sexy, red bra-strap. The loose fit, red chequered shirt over the top completed the outfit and made her look so sexy it was starting to hurt as my jeans constricted across the crotch.

Stop, Ashton, focus! She’s looking at you, you need to say something. You look like an idiot!

“Er… You look, er…” I stuttered. Come on you stupid prick, think of a word!

She raised one eyebrow in question as she looked down at herself and straightened her shirt. Clearly, she had no idea that she looked like a goddess and that all I wanted to do was crush her against me and run my tongue over every inch of her. I mentally groaned. I wanted to beg her for a chance; I wanted to be with her so badly that I could almost taste it.

I took a deep breath and tried to stop embarrassing myself. “You look stunning, and you’re going to make this hard for me all day,” I said honestly. There was undeniably a double meaning to those words, she certainly was going to make me hard all day, that was for sure.

Her shoulders seemed to relax at my compliment, and she looked at me gratefully. “Hard for you, why?” she asked, turning to get a glass of juice from the fridge.

I groaned quietly. From the back you couldn’t see the shorts; it looked like she was just wearing a shirt and ankle boots. Oh man, how the heck am I going to be able to do my job with her looking like that? Maybe I should ask her to change... Can I ask her to change without making myself look like a freaking pervert?

“Ashton? How is it going to be hard for you? What are you talking about?” she asked, interrupting my examination of her legs.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down downstairs. “You’re gonna get hit on a lot today,” I admitted.

She turned back and held out a glass of apple juice to me, making her bangles jingle as she moved. I smiled down at them weakly. I’d noticed that whenever she wore short sleeves, she always wore something on her wrists, covering up the scar from her suicide attempt and the various other small scars on her wrist where she had obviously self-harmed at some point in her life.

When she boosted herself up onto the kitchen counter, my body moved of its own accord. I stepped closer to her, setting myself between her legs. Her minty breath blew across my face as her breathing started to speed up. Her eyes widened a fraction as I leant in closer.

“With you looking like this, I may have to kiss you a fair few times today,” I warned. I kept my eyes trained on hers, watching for her reaction as I reached out and traced the line of her cheekbone with one finger.

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat as she nodded slightly. “If you think that’s necessary,” she replied, not taking her eyes from mine.

I could feel the passion building between us and I knew she could feel it too because of the way she was looking at me. That look made the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. There was no denying that she was attracted to me too, but she didn’t like the fact that she was, I knew that for sure.