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“No.”
While the others crack up, I walk us closer to the water’s edge. “Mila…”
“Okay!” She stops fussing and now runs the blunt of her nails up my back. “I looooooove hanging out with you.”
“Much better.” I nip the side of her thigh and then walk us back, setting her on her feet beside a red-in-the-face Crissy. “Now, behave.”
“Yes, sir.” Mila blows me a kiss and sets about stretching her blanket out. “Now, go play. Put on a good show for me.”
“You sure?” Because to be honest, I would much rather sunbathe with her. Take a swim with her.
She saunters back, then stands on the very tips of her toes so she can kiss my chin. “Yeah, I want to watch.”
“My girl gets what she wants.”
“I’ll remember that.”
The guys move down a few feet and closer to the shore. Last thing we want is to fall on or hit them with a ball, cause shit like that happens. For a while we just toss back and forth, talking shit and catching up. Everything is great, and I’m just getting ready to play a game when she strips out of her sundress, exposing the all-black halter-style bikini she has underneath.
Ignoring the world around her, Mila lies on the towel while looking at Crystal as they talk. She’s smiling, oblivious to the hungry stares while her friend keeps her entertained. And as much as everyone seeing her like this pisses me off, there is something to be said about my girl feeling safe and secure with me. That she doesn’t worry about anyone bothering her because I am here. She knows I’ll protect her.
The football slips from my fingers as I devour every newly exposed inch. Fuck, she looks good. Too good, and I’m not the only one to notice this.
One asshole, not too far from where I stand, punches his friend in the arm and takes a few steps in her direction. His smile is smug. Another cocky idiot who thinks he’s hot shit and that she’ll fall for whatever bull crap he spews. Fuck, no.
Before he’s halfway there, I pick up the football at my feet and throw it at his head. It connects with a thud, snapping his head to the side, and those around us go quiet. At his curse of pain, the silence turns into snickers, and he turns in my direction.
He takes a step, and then two more, walking my way while one of his friends pulls on his arm. They’re smarter than they look. Understand that I will hurt the punk if he steps up to me the wrong way.
He doesn’t faze me. Not one bit of his fake macho bull makes me pause or rethink my actions.
Instead, as he walks closer, I shake my head and mouth the word mine. There’s no mistaking whom I’m speaking about, either—my fingers point between Mimi and myself, making it clear she’s spoken for.
That he’s trying to bark up the wrong fucking tree.
I know my eyes are hard. That my hands are clenching at my sides—causing my muscles to bulge—daring him to come and acquaint himself with my fist.
I’m six foot three of solid muscle and an experienced kickboxer. For two years while volunteering in Thailand, I worked in a city where prizefighters train. That, and saving the life of the gym’s owner gave me the privilege of sessions with some of the best in the world.
If I can damage the trunk of a palm with a few well-placed kicks, I’ll break the wannabe in two without breaking a sweat.
My eyes flicker toward Mila, and it’s hard to keep my expression hard. She’s adorable, putting in earbuds and bobbing her head to whatever is playing. Her lips move, she’s singing, and Crystal takes one out to pop it in her own ear.
Not a care in the world, and I like her that way.
My eyes leave her small frame for a moment, and I look back at the man-child and raise a brow. The side of his face where the ball connected is red, looks angry, and so does the scowl on his face. Not that I care, but this is his chance to move along while I’m still playing nice.
Another puff of his chest, and I stand to my full height. I crack my neck and wait.
Nothing. For three full minutes he just stands there and then, like all bitches, turns around and slinks away. Not that I expected anything different. Pussy.
A woman deserves a man that will fight for her attention. That will take on the world in order to call her his, and his alone.
Real men don’t back down. They take what they want and then treat her like the fucking treasure she is.
Like my treasure. A rare gem.
“Hey, babe?” Mila yells loudly, and I shake my head. Figures—the earpiece is still in.
“Yeah?”
“You playing or what?”
