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"Don't play the virginal tease. Unless you like that. We've been leading up to this all night."
"Get your fucking hands off me."
A body slam. "Fine, we can do rough. Undo the blouse. Show me your tits."
A moan.
"I know you want it." A rip. "Nice tits, baby. Very hot."
"No."
The whisper was full of agony, not pleasure.
Nate moved.
In seconds, he ripped the guy off her. He stumbled back and shook his head. "What the hell, man? You're interrupting a private moment."
Nate studied Kennedy. She leaned back against the wall, her hands holding up her torn blouse. Her lips looked well kissed. She was breathing hard, as if aroused. And then he saw her eyes.
Vacant.
She stared back at him as if she were somewhere else, somewhere she didn't want to be, and was trapped in a hell of her own making. Jesus, what had happened? He tamped down hard on the swirling rage and temper dying to fly out, and concentrated on her. "You okay, Ken?" He spoke gently. It took a few seconds, but her gaze finally cleared. She blinked, as if surfacing from a deep sleep.
"Huh?"
He walked over and touched her cheek. His hand shook as he surveyed her defensive position. "Did this guy hurt you?"
Prickface's voice piped up in sheer disgust. "For God's sake, we're fooling around out here, Lancelot. You ruined a good moment."
Nate didn't break his gaze, just kept stroking her cheek. "Want me to beat the shit out of him? Call the cops? Talk to me, Ken."
Her voice came out husky. "No. I just want to go. I want to . . . go."
"With him?"
"No!" Her body burst into tiny convulsions that tore his heart to shreds.
"Shhh, it's okay. I got you." He put his arm around her back and led her forward.
"Oh, I don't think so." Prickface stood before them, a tiny smirk on his lips. He was a good few inches taller than Nate, with broader shoulders. "I'll take her home. I didn't do anything wrong, and you're not treating me like some scum date rapist. Don't embarrass me, Kennedy. Tell this guy we were just fooling around."
Humiliation flickered in her eyes, but it was the second emotion on her face--fear--that helped him make the decision that he would fight this asshat if he had to. "Forget it, things got a bit out of control. Nate, can you take me home?"
"Aww, babe, don't be like that. We'll talk. Let's not ruin a good night."
She flinched as he took a step forward. Nate stepped in between them and put out his hand. "This is how it's gonna be. Walk away and don't contact her again. I'll get her home. Got it?"
Prickface sneered. "Don't think so. I take care of my own dates and my business."
Nate tried for calm, he really did, but the fury exploded from the cold ball of lead in his gut and burst through his veins. "Last chance. Then I'm going to beat the shit out of you."
Prickface laughed. "You and what army?" He rolled up his custom designer sleeves and came at Nate slowly. "You know what? This is gonna be fun. I haven't taught someone a lesson in a long time."
"I agree. It's time I teach you when a woman says no, she means it."
"Nate!" Her cry of alarm soothed his soul. "Please, let's just go. I don't want you to get hurt."
"Stay here, Ken. I'll be right back."
"But--"
Prickface came at him with a pathetic lunge and a sloppy right hook. Nate dodged left and connected. Score. Asshole blinked through a puffy eye, cursed, and got reinvigorated. "You're gonna pay for that one."
With a bored sigh, Nate judged his next move to be an uppercut followed by a kick to the knees. So nineties. He compensated with a sidestep and a few lightning jabs to the chin. Bone cracked. Score.
Prickface fell this time but got up. With a vicious curse, he went for the full-out body slam. Nate swept his front ankle and gave him the full left.
Knockout.
He left him bleeding in a pile by the bushes. Kennedy watched his approach with wide eyes. He took off his jacket, slid it over her shoulders, and buttoned it over her torn blouse. "Let's go. I got you."
"Not inside. Not like this."
He nodded. "I know. I'm taking you out the side, we'll walk."
She didn't answer. He tucked her in close to him for warmth, and they made their way through the streets of Verily toward his house. This time, she ducked her head instead of soaking up the sights and sounds of a busy evening, and he hurried his pace. She didn't question him when he settled her on the sofa in the living room, or when he put on a pot to boil water for tea. He quickly texted his brother to let him know he ditched him and walked home, promising to check in tomorrow. She sat docilely, staring at the wall. He left her alone with her thoughts.
But the anger burned.
He calmed his mind and his temper by pouring the water in a bright yellow mug Genevieve had left behind and dunking a honey-vanilla chamomile teabag. When a nice, rich color had been achieved, he used a teaspoon to fish out the bag. He didn't bother with milk, honey, or lemon, already sensing that she'd drink tea like coffee--straight up. He wiped off the droplets on the side of the mug, grabbed a coaster, and brought it into the living room.
"Drink this."
She automatically reached out for the cup. "I don't like tea."
"I know. But this will soothe your nerves."
She sipped the steamy liquid. He waited. She looked up and nodded. "It's good."
"Would you like a cookie to go with it? I have Stella D'oros in the pantry."
"No, thank you." She sipped more of the tea. "How did your date go?"
Nate sat down on the couch next to her, almost exactly as he'd positioned himself a few hours ago with Sue. Now, everything was different. "Not good. She didn't like Connor. I don't think I can see her again."
She studied her cup for a while. "I was afraid she'd be too stiff. I'm sorry. Maybe you'd like to date Mary?"
"Maybe."
"I liked your brother. He needs some training on what to say and what not to say, but he's real. And he took care of you. He sticks with the people he loves. I like that."
Dear God, help him. He was crazy about her. Just stick a fork in him and call it a day. Nate swallowed around the thick constriction in his throat. "Yeah. He's pretty cool once you get to know him. Guess your date didn't go too well either, huh?"
Sh
e snorted out a half laugh. "Guess not. You really beat his ass."
"Guess so."
"I had no idea you could fight like that. You went all Bruce Lee and Fight Club on me."
He fought a smile. "Nah, I didn't make those weird noises. It's easy. Body stature and strength are only a portion of success. It's mind-set, agility, and planning. Connor taught me the basics of how to defend myself. I came home with a broken arm one day from getting jumped, and after he drove me to the hospital, he took me straight to the gym. Showed me how to kick and use my natural abilities to fight. After that, I studied everything on martial arts and boxing and fine-tuned the process."
"You always seem to surprise me, Nate Dunkle."
"As do you, Kennedy Ashe."
She looked up, startled. Must have spotted something scary in his eyes, because she bent over and busied herself with finishing her tea and setting it down carefully on the coaster. "I better go. Thanks for helping me out."
"What happened?"
She froze. Curled her fingers into fists before deliberately relaxing them. Her voice wobbled only slightly before she pulled it back, but he caught it. "Just a kiss that got out of hand. I'm embarrassed you had to see it. Let's forget about the whole episode."
"You said no quite clearly. Why would you be embarrassed?"
The first sign of temper flared. She lifted her chin as if trying to gain strength and get her badass back. "Because normally I would've taken care of it myself. I've mastered my own moves over the years. Something freaked me out and I--I--panicked. I hate that you got involved."
"He almost hurt you. If I see him again, I'll kill him."
Her mouth fell open. Those lips were soft and moist, reminding him of a ripe honeydew melon before that first bite. She seemed taken aback by the violence in his words, but it was another part of himself he kept hidden. Years of bullying and being dumped for the next best thing had caused a buildup of scar tissue. Nate learned how to compartmentalize, using logic and reason to keep in the light. But anyone who laid a hand on his woman would pay.
His woman? What was happening to him?
He dragged in a breath. His body was on high alert from the adrenaline, which usually translated into sexual arousal. Textbook. Not that it took much to get there with Kennedy in the room. It was a hotbed of emotions, and his dick was just responding to the overstimulation of the whole damn evening.
"Don't say that. He said something to me. Stupid, I know, but it released a memory I wanted to forget."
