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“I’d like to unveil our 2012 Olympic Issue, featuring Women’s Soccer, I mean Football player, Katherine Campbell of team Great Britain.”
I stagger in shock and my hand clenches around my drink. I’m frozen in place as Kate, my Kate, appears on a twelve-foot screen wearing only a teeny tiny scrap of a bikini with the Union Jack printed on it.
When the real-life Kate walks out on the stage in a low-cut, too-short red dress, waving and smiling for the cheers of the audience, I nearly lose it.
I grab the back of Adam’s neck, pressing my fingers down tight.
“Ow! Sod off!” He tries to shake me off but I hold on.
“Did you know about this?” I hiss under my breath.
“What? No! How would I know? They’ve kept the bloody cover a secret! No one knew who was on it, just that it was an Olympic athlete.”
“Fuck!” I release his neck, only to fist my hands at my sides. My eyes turn back to Kate, who is finished with her speech already and is making her way down the stairs and into the crowd.
Scott holds out a hand to keep her from tumbling in her heels. The insane urge to rip his arm off and beat him with it roars through me. Kate has always been beautiful, gorgeous even. But she’s always had a shyness about her, an insecurity that held her back from reaching her full potential.
Tonight, I see none of that. All I see is an absolutely stunning young woman, confident and successful and proud of her accomplishments. That confidence is dead sexy and every guy in here is thinking the same thing.
The thought of all these men mentally undressing her—fuck, they didn’t even have to do it mentally with a twelve foot picture of her stripped down to nothing. It makes me want to wrap her up in my coat and drag her out of here so no one else can touch what’s mine.
She’s not yours, Davies. Hasn’t been for years.
And doesn’t that just make it worse.
“She must know we’re here, mate,” Adam says, tearing me away from my gawking. “She had to have watched us perform.”
He’s right. She knows we’re here. Should I go over to her? I’m at a loss as to what to do next.
Adam shoves me forward. “Right, we’re going to chat her up. I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“But—?”
My argument is short-lived when I see that Gavin and Hawke have already approached Kate and are exchanging hugs and kisses. My body goes rigid as their hands touch her bare skin.
Adam leans in to speak quietly in my ear. “Calm down, big guy. I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears.” He pats my back and continues pushing me along.
Kate is smiling at Gavin and Hawke, but it’s strained. She’s uncomfortable. This is supposed to be one of her proudest moments, a crowning achievement in her life, and I’ve gone and messed it up by existing.
Then those clear, green eyes meet mine and I no longer care—I don’t care who’s here or what the right thing is that I’m supposed to be doing, all I care about is her.
“Dax.” My name comes out on a quick breath. That raspy voice of hers still does things to me. The memories send blood rushing south.
“Kate.” The rest of the room fades away, like one of those cheesy Hollywood films. Until, that is, a swaggering bloke comes up, slides an arm around Kate’s waist, and introduces himself.
“Hi, I’m Blake Marshall, Miss Campbell’s date.”
That’s the last straw. I lose it. The anger, the frustration, a lifetime of denying any of my true feelings, it all comes pouring out in one lightning fast movement.
My hands find the lapels of Blake Marshall’s jacket and I have him shoved against the nearest wall, snarling in his face, before anyone can react.
“Take your hands off of her, mate. Unless you want to lose them in an incredibly painful manner.”
“Dax, stop it!” Kate is futilely trying to pull me off of her date, while Adam and Gavin successfully manage to separate me from the tall, dark-haired man.
“Calm down, Dax,” Adam growls in my ear. “You’re making a scene.”
“I don’t fucking care. He’s touching my—” The harsh untruth of my outburst stops me cold. She’s not mine. I seem to keep forgetting that bit.
