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Probably because Iaminappropriately invested in her sex life.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” I tell them.
I steal one last glance at Natasha’s backside. The thought of another man grabbing handfuls of her voluptuous ass sends a flood of hot jealousy coursing through me. I stride back to my office before I have a chance to do something ridiculous, like drag her to my bedroom and lock her inside, away from the undeserving pricks who wouldn’t know a clitoris from a coccyx.
Three guests arrive over the next half hour. Two guys and a girl, all around Oliver and Nat’s age.
I watch them out on the deck through the window in my office. One of the guys is clearly interested in Oliver, but he’s not the one I’ve got my eye on. Natasha smiles prettily at the two remaining guests, and although she’s clearly friendly with both, it’s the lanky guy with chin-length hair who can’t take his eyes off herassets.
My book all but forgotten, I watch the group eat and socialize.
After a little while, they strip down to their swimsuits and head down to the dock for a swim. Natasha is flawless in her light-blue bikini, her soft belly and thick thighs glistening in the afternoon sun. Her laughter echoes up from the dock where she and the other girl splash and chase each other.
Just when I’m starting to feel like a creepy old man for watching them, the guy with long hair wraps his arms around Natasha and pulls her into the water.
My book drops to the floor as I leap up from my chair.
Natasha isn’t yours, I remind myself. You have no claim on her. She invited this guy to the lake house because she wants him here.
I watch Natasha climb back onto the dock wearing an expression of annoyance. The long-haired guy tries to follow her up the ladder. At the last second, she turns and pushes him into the lake with a self-satisfied smile.
My chest rocks with a sharp, sudden laugh.
Good girl.
* * *
Later, after the group has finished eating, I slip out of my office and make my way to the kitchen to fix myself a burger. Conversation drifts into the house through the screen door. I hear my son and his companion, as well as their female friend. But I don’t hear Natasha or the long-haired guy she pushed into the lake.
Where the hell could they be?
My pulse kicks into high gear as I glance out at the dock. No one there. I check the living room and then backtrack to Natasha’s bedroom. Both empty.
Then I hear a male voice coming from the guest bedroom at the end of the hall.
“You guys painted the entire house?”
I peer into the room to find Natasha and the long-haired boy standing so close together, he might as well have his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She’s put her sundress back on over her bikini.
“We did, yeah.” Natasha grips both her elbows in a defensive posture. “Most of the furniture is brand new, except for a few antiques.”
My gaze narrows as I assess the boy. He’s slender and tall with an easy, lopsided smile. Is this the sort of guy Natasha’s into? A pretty boy barely out of diapers? Would he know the first thing about making a young woman like her feel good?
Jealousy swirls inside me like smoke. I take a deep breath to try and dissipate the feeling, but the effort is futile. As soon as the guy brushes his hand across Natasha’s forearm, I can’t think. Can’t feel. I can only act.
I step inside the room, my footfalls drawing their attention to the doorway. Natasha’s gasp is soft, but unmistakable.
“Dr. Ransom,” she says.
The words rumble up from my chest like a growl: “Can I help you two find something?”
“Toby just wanted a tour of the house.” She takes a small step back from the boy at her side.
I cut my gaze toward Toby. “Is that so?”
“Your house is really something, sir.” Toby glances at Natasha as he says this, and the insinuation that she is in fact really something might be accurate. But it still makes me want to snap the boy in half.
“Yes, she is,” I say, my voice deeper and more threatening than it has any right to be.
