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A small hand gripped his bicep, halting him. “No, Andre,” Mia said flatly. “He isn’t worth it.”
You’re worth it.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
“Whoa, man. Listen to your girl. It was just a little fun,” the guy taunted.
Andre jerked towards him, but Mia’s hand only tugged him more firmly. “Let’s go, Dre. He’s not worth the assault charges.”
Andre turned to Mia, her brown hair stuck to her skin, her nipples poking against the fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t remember a more beautiful sight. She had him under her spell. It gave him the time to calm down. He’d probably get punished more harshly in front of a judge for punching this guy’s lights out than the frat boy would for assaulting Mia. What a fucked-up world we live in.
Andre pulled Mia back into his chest as they walked away towards the beach with their friends.
“Th-thank you,” Mia said, still shivering.
***
Bently seemed to know something was wrong the moment Andre locked eyes with him.
His friend came running over. “What happened?”
“There’s a jackass frat boy over there who assaulted Mia. Threw her off the jumping ledge.”
“I’ll handle it,” Bently said.
“Please don’t get into a fight on my account. Really, I don’t want you all to end up in jail because of me,” Mia pleaded.
Bently laughed. “Honey, I’m the sheriff.”
Mia’s face paled. “I-I don’t want to press charges. I just want to go home.”
“I’ll take you home. Bent, can you get my car back?” Andre asked.
“Yeah. You sure, Mia? It would really be my pleasure,” Bentley pressed.
“I’m positive.” Mia wrapped her towel around her body and gathered her yoga mats.
Andre ushered her to her car, helping her into the passenger seat. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
He’d never seen her look so small and timid. In the short time he’d known her, she’d been feisty and full of energy. Pain laced through his chest. He was partly to blame. She’d have never gone up there if he hadn’t acted like he did. His sister had been right—he was bitter.
“I’m sorry about before,” he said.
No response.
He drove her home in silence. He put the car in park and jumped out to open her door. As he reached his hand to steady her, she pulled away.
“I can do it myself,” she said. Some of the fire was back in her eyes.
“I know you can, but I want to help,” he said as calmly as possible.
She unlocked her door and walked in, and he followed close behind her. Her house was a similar style to his. But her decor was colorful, warm and inviting, whereas his was more bachelor-pad chic with mismatched furniture and a few pictures and art pieces his mother had hung for him.
She stood there, staring at him, seeming so vulnerable. The mask she usually wore was gone. He stepped closer, unable to ignore the tether that cinched tighter between them, connecting him to her in a way he’d never felt before. Seeing her in danger had scared him more than he wanted to admit. The hurt in her eyes when he’d taken his tactics too far gutted him. Guilt clawed at his insides, along with an intense need to make it better, restore the light he’d snuffed out.
The pull between them was pure magnetism. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Placing his hand under her chin, he gently turned her face up to his. Need and lust tangled together with some unknown feeling. She was shaken up by the day’s events, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them from her memory, to make her feel good.
