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I get up in her face, enraged, heaving like a bull, and she doesn’t back down, getting up in my face too, her green eyes blazing.
But I’m suddenly at a loss for words.
Forgotten why I’m here.
Angry.
Pissed off.
Losing my fucking mind.
Fuck.
The smell of lavender mixed with nicotine hits me like a bulldozer and electricity sizzles between our close chests. She stares up at me, toe to toe, waiting. My eyes move to her lips. The new gold ring. She bites at it.
Jesus Christ.
My dick pounds against the back of my pants, and that just inflames the anger more. What the fuck is my body doing? These reactions? “Get in the fucking car, Pearl, or God help me, I will put you in there myself.”
“Try it,” she says calmly, and it’s all I need. I move my hold to her elbow, marching her toward the car, and she fights me with a strength that surprises me. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Your language is foul for a young woman.” Who the fuck am I, her father? I flinch. “And you shouldn’t be doing this.” I take the cigarette from between her fingers and toss it on the ground.
“Brad, for God’s sake!”
“Hey, dude,” someone yells, making me look back. I see a guy coming at us, his face a picture of disgust. I do not need a law-abiding, do-gooder, pillar of the community stepping in and playing hero. Not now. Or maybe I do. Maybe if someone else saves her, she’ll become their problem and do us both a favor.
But—
I stop, pull my gun, and aim it at the man. “Turn and walk away,” I say calmly, feeling anything but.
“Brad!” Pearl gasps, reaching for my wrist and pushing the gun down.
And, weirdly, I let her, watching the guy back off promptly, hands up. I look down at her dainty hand around my wrist, holding it. Feel the heat. Smell the sweet scent of her perfume. Taste the desire between us. Our eyes meet. Pearl releases my wrist and takes a step back, as I absorb every one of her exquisite features before letting my gaze drift across the black dress clinging to her body. Every curve. Small waist, generous hips, lavish tits, shapely legs. Pearl must have a starring role in every man’s wet dream. She’s all woman.
Beautiful. Wise. Brave. Smart. Fiery.
But . . .
Only.
Twenty.
One.
I blink and look up at her slightly parted lips. What the fuck am I thinking? “I can’t do this,” I say, my mouth out of control. I can’t stand the pull. Don’t think I can resist it for much longer. She’s fire, and I am playing way too close to the burning flames.
I turn away from her, raking a hand through my hair, and go back to my car, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine, fighting the urge inside. An urge that I have no idea how to deal with.
Drive away. Leave.
Go fuck Allison.
I slip my car into drive, check my mirrors, and ease off the brake, pulling away.
And quickly stop again, punching the steering wheel. I can’t save a woman’s life then leave her on the streets of Miami waiting to be mugged, raped, or murdered. “Fuck,” I bellow, letting my head meet the wheel, hitting it a few times before looking at the ceiling and yelling my frustration.
No amount of random fucking will eliminate my problem.
