What He Shields (What He Wants Book Seventeen) by Hannah Ford Page A

didn’t have a problem with
beating people up, as evidenced by what he’d done to those two thugs on the
street earlier.    Strike
two.   He also broke into a
convenience store ice machine, which, let’s face it, wasn’t that big of a deal,
but it spoke to something else – he was comfortable taking other people’s
property, almost like he’d done it before.   Maybe a lot.   Strike three.
    Then he brought me, a total stranger, back to
his house without asking questions, which spoke to a tendency for
impulsivity.   He somehow knew I was
staying at the Walnut Street shelter, which made it likely he was some kind of
stalker.   And he didn’t seem all that concerned by the fact that he’d
caught me in his bathroom cutting myself.
    The red flags were blinding.
    “A job is totally different,” I said.   “It’s a lot different than sleeping with
you for money.”
    “Sleeping with me for money?” He sounded offended,
like he couldn’t believe I would even think such a thing.   “Who said anything about sleeping with
me for money?”
    “You said you wanted to get into business with
me.”
    “Are you in the business of sleeping with
people for money?”
    “No!” I said.   “Why would you even say something like
that?”   I wondered what he would do
if he knew I was a virgin, that I hadn’t even kissed a boy.  
    “Well.”   Colt shrugged, like it was blindingly obvious why he would jump to the
conclusion that I’d had experience with prostitution.   “I said I had a business proposition for
you, and you immediately assumed I wanted to have sex with you.”   His eyes blazed when he said this last
part, almost like he was amused by the idea of sleeping with me, even though
he’d pretty much just propositioned me a couple of minutes ago.
    “Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes.   “You would have slept with me earlier
when I was dancing for you and you know it.   Not to mention what you just said to me
in the bathroom.”
    The side of his mouth twitched up into a grin,
like I was a silly little girl who knew nothing about the world.  
    “Don’t look at me like that,” I said.
    “Like what?” he asked, holding his hands up and
feigning innocence.
    “Like I’m a silly little girl who knows nothing
about the world.”
    The cocky grin immediately disappeared from his
face.   “I think you know plenty
about the world.”   His gaze dropped to my wrist, and I knew what he was thinking
– that anyone who took a razor blade to their skin, who wanted to feel
that pain in order to ground themselves in something, anything, must
have been through some shit.   But
that was none of his business.  
    “It’s none of your business what I’ve been
through,” I said.
    “Fair enough.”
    He didn’t say anything for a moment after that,
and the silence stretched on for several moments.   It was disarming.   I wanted to say something, anything,
just to end it, but that too felt like I was giving into him.   And if there was one thing this silly
little girl knew, it was that if you let someone think you were giving in, if
you let them think you were weak, they would take
advantage any chance they got.
    I shivered, aware of the fact that I was still
wearing just a thin t-shirt.
    “You’re cold,” Colt said.  
    “No, I’m not.”
    “I’ll be right back.”
    He returned with a grey zip up hoodie, then
stopped short just inside the door.   He held it out to me, motioning for me to come get it.   I took a step toward him, and his eyes
raked over my body, lingering on my nipples, which were hard and visible
through my t-shirt.    Just like
at the club, he made no excuses for the fact that he was openly staring at my
body.
    “Why don’t you take a picture, it will last
longer,” I mumbled.
    “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said,
amused.
    I turned around and slid my arms through the
sweatshirt, then went to grab the zipper.
    “It’s tricky,” he said, reaching around