Page 119 of Redeeming the Villain
He nods and picks it up from the ground, handing it to me.
Phillip calls Sunny to follow him. “Come on, Sunny Bun.”
“Go.” I release her verbally, knowing she wants to stay at my side.
Lifting me up into the air, Malik stands to his feet. I bite down on my bottom lip and watch him intensely. I could get used to this princess treatment.
Griffin clears his throat. “You guys all right? Want us to walk you back?”
Malik shakes his head. “No, I’ve got her from here. Thanks though.”
They nod before splitting off in the opposite direction. I have no idea how he got so many of them to drop everything at a moment’s notice to come to my rescue. Or how Phillip even found Malik in, like, a minute. But regardless, it was a happy coincidence.
“How are you actually doing?” Malik’s voice caresses my cheek as he lifts me higher in his grasp.
Looking over at his stunning purple eyes, I answer truthfully, “Like I need a gooddistraction.”
His eyebrows lift, and he chuckles. “Oh, really?”
I giggle. “Yeah. But you’ll have to do most of the work because?—”
He interrupts me, “Don’t worry, baby; I’ll keep your legs in the air—for the blood flow, of course, not any other reason.”
I cackle. “Oh sure, okay.”
“You think you can handle it?” he murmurs, his voice sweet and kind, but I can’t help to take it as some challenge.
“I think I can handle you just fine.” My tongue swipes my bottom lip, and I smirk.
“That’s cute, Bug. But you have no idea the restraint I used when I fucked you for the first time. The sheer willpower not to pound into you all night long,overandover.”
He approaches the entrance to the dorm hall, and I use my key fob to unlock the door.
When he carries me inside, a few onlookers ogle the tattooed and jacked hockey player as if I wasn’t even in his arms. Something about it lights a fire in me, the smallest flame of possession igniting.
They can look all they want, and I don’t blame them so long as they don’t try to touch.
He’s mine.
Malik uses my foot to press the Up button outside of the elevator, and I giggle as we stride inside, the doors closing behind us before ascending.
When we step off of the elevator and turn down my hallway, there’s a gentleman waiting outside of my door, with a garment bag in his arms.
Malik slowly sets me down, striding ahead of me with me tucked behind him.
“Miss Briarwood?” the man in a suit asks.
I nod.
He juts the bag toward Malik and me. “A delivery from Mr. Briarwood.”
“Thank you.” I smile kindly at the messenger, taking the bag. There’s no reason in taking my anger out on him; he’s just doing his job.
He immediately leaves, and I feel bad, not knowing how long he had to wait for me, but the tag hanging on the hanger steals my attention away from any guilt.
Next Friday, seven p.m. Gala at Triton Harbor Event Center. Wear this.
“He’s lost his mind,” I whisper in shock that this is all very real and not just a bad dream.
