Happy to Help

Part 1

He had a girl in his arms.
Correction – he had the girl in his arms.
The girl who had moved in a few months back. Who worked on her classic car in the sun, looking like nothing in the world gave her more joy. The girl who he saw doing kickboxing in the window of the 24-hour gym around the corner. He had to actually fight his own body not to stand there and gawk at the sheer power she possessed any time he walked by while she was there. There was something about the way she moved that entranced him.
It was all kinds of pathetic.

And now here she was in his arms. Leanly muscled, her slight body was flush against his. Her lips lightly playing against his skin as she nuzzled into his neck. Those strong arms wrapped around him like he was hers.
He was actively willing his body not to respond, running through a slideshow in his mind of anything that would calm his blood. She smelt like sun and peaches; peaches that when you bit into them, into the sweet meat of the fruit, the juices would fill his mouth, trickle down his hand – he'd use his tongue to catch the sweetness before...
No, no. That was not helping matters. If she knew where his mind had gone she would have hit him, or pushed away, or something. At this rate, he was counting it as a minor miracle she hadn't picked up on the way she was affecting his body.

Hell, he didn't even know her name. All he had done was meet her gaze, he'd meant to give her a cordial nod as they entered their apartment building, but she had called out 'Hey you' with such a look of adoration and then bounded into his arms, pressing up on her tip-toes to encircle his neck in her arms. The only thing he could do was wrap her up – it was pure instinct – he heard the hitch in her breathing as his large hand splayed across her back. Bowing his head slightly and turning his face, he tried to meet her gaze. He felt like a big brute compared to her, but he'd seen the strength in her slim form (could feel it now) and it made him feel like he wouldn't crush her by mistake.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend, till we are firmly inside the building." She said, brushing her lips along his jaw by his ear as she spoke in a hush tone.

It was at this point he went rigid and all previous pleasant thoughts disappeared; he knew she felt the tension in him because her finger began doing light stroking movements along the nape of his neck, but it didn't stop him from jerking his gaze up assessing the area. Who the fuck had scared her enough to jump into his arms? What fucker thought that was a wise idea? He was going to rip the head from the asshole's body.

His grip on her must have tightened, because her hands came up to either side of his cheeks and she forced his gaze to meet hers.
Gutted.
He had known she was pretty, but it wasn't something he had spent a lot of thought on. He had been impressed with her skill, in awe of the way she worked on the car like it was something as simple as breathing, and intrigued by the barest hint of a smile she walked around with. But he never had had the opportunity to see her like this. Straight on, only inches away.
It was like she was in High-Def with the sound turned up to full volume, and he was struck momentarily dumb by her. The anger leeching away for a moment by her bright hazel eyes and light spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, before coming back ten-fold.

Someone needed to die. Someone had spooked her enough that she had come into his arms like he was some sort savior.
This would be justifiable homicide. It would be fine. His parents knew people.

"Babe?" She called his attention back to her, and his eyes snapped to hers instantly. He must look feral. He feels feral. "Let's go home. I've had a long day, and want nothing more than a bath and pizza. And a back rub."

Wait.
Wait – something was pushing back the feral. She was...English?
English. Okay, he was just possessing her accent now. And she wanted a bath and a back rub, was she trying to short circuit his brain? He felt like he was operating with only one brain-cell at the moment and it was like she knew. She saw her opening and took charge and all but bodily moved them inside the building. Her fingers laced in his, her hand was delicate and calloused – a heady mixture of contradictions, as she tugged his inside the building.
This slip of a girl, pulling his hulking form behind her, throwing him that barely there smile which had intrigued him all those months ago.