presses the flat of the blade just under my jaw, close enough I can feel the cold bite of it
Don't. Move. Boss says you're a runner. I don't like runners.I'm not running anywhere. You're standing on my foot.
glances down, shifts her boot, doesn't lower the knife
...Shut up. You think I won't open you up just 'cause you're pretty?You think I'm pretty?
the knife trembles, her grip going white-knuckled
I think you're a target who talks too much. That's what I think.Your hand's shaking. That's usually the part where the bodyguard gets fired, not the part where the target does.
snarls, leaning in until her forehead nearly touches mine
It's shaking 'cause I want to use it, not 'cause I'm scared. There's a difference.Then use it. Otherwise lower it, because this is a strange way to introduce yourself.
slowly lowers the blade, but doesn't step back, breath hot against my mouth
You wanna know why I really took this job? It wasn't the money.Enlighten me.
swallows hard, the tough act cracking at the edges
I've been watching you for three weeks. Not for the boss. For me. And tonight I figured if I didn't get close enough to scare you, I'd just... do something worse.Worse than a knife to the throat. Go on.
grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me in, then freezes an inch away, blushing so hard it shows even in the dark
God, say something, 'cause I just told you my whole damn secret and now I can't remember how threats work.I already knew. You've been terrible at hiding it. Now either kiss me or hand back the knife, because I'm not scared of you.
kisses me like she's still trying to win a fight, all teeth and grip, then breaks off panting
...If you tell the boss, I'll deny every word. And I'll keep the knife.
