Page 18 of Control (Everyday Heroes 3.50)
And when I look to the right to where Reznor lives and see the lights burning bright in his house, I can’t help but wonder what keeps him up at night.
Chapter Seven
Desi
Bang. Bang. Bang.
What the hell?
I must jump a foot off the ground. Thank God I’m not grooming a dog or else I’m sure there would be a very random strip of hair missing down its back. Or worse. A cut ear…
And then I slink behind the wall so I’m not in the line of sight of any of the windows.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Desi, it’s Rez. Open up.”
The sound of his voice has my panic morphing immediately from sheer terror to anger. I welcome the feel of my temper as it wipes out the exhaustion and panic, and I let it ignite as I stalk the few feet to the back door.
When I fling it open, Reznor is standing there with his arms folded over his chest, a baseball hat low on his forehead, and an irritated look on his face. The sun is fading behind the hills at his back, bathing the valley of Sunnyville in a soft glow, and I hate—absolutely hate—that my stomach flutters at the sight of him.
I’m not a flutter girl. I’m a quick bang of lust between the thighs, it’s time to go to the bedroom type.
Flutters don’t happen.
But I fluttered.
Crap.
“What?” I snap at him, trying to combat my unwanted attraction to him, when every part of my body reacts to him. To the rough cut of his jaw. The deep brown of his eyes. The slight curve of his smile.
“Good evening to you too.” He chuckles.
“Ever heard of a front door?”
He looks at me for a beat before shaking his head. “Sorry. I thought that was the business entrance and this was the personal. I didn’t mean to—”
“Scare me? Yeah. You did.”
“Fine. Next time I’ll knock so you know it’s me.”
“That’s not what I mean—”
“Something like this,” he says with zero regard for me telling him that there won’t be a next time. He raps his knuckles on the side of the doorjamb: knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.
His grin widens as he takes in the frustration on my face.
Yes, I’m being a bitch.
No, he doesn’t deserve it.
But he made me flutter.
And he’s him—looking all hot and sexy—and I’m me—a woman who has sworn off men for a while—and hell if the sight of him isn’t getting things in me revved that I don’t want him to hold the keys to.
“What? You don’t like that pattern?” He angles his head to the side. “I can make a different one.” He lifts his fist to knock.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just…” I blow out a sigh and hate that the shy smile on his lips looking like a little boy’s, mixed with the tattoos decorating his arm are like kryptonite wearing down my defenses. “That pattern is fine.”
