Crowds are his favorite MO.
“So, this time, I didn’t stay quiet. I raised my voice. I said everything I’ve been biting down for months and called him out in front of everyone. Told them he was threatening us. Stalking us. And I made sure they all heard me.”
Well, hell.
“Tyson couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He didn’t enjoy being the one on display. Didn’t care for people seeing what he really is. I think I found the one thing he hates more than you—being exposed. Being humbled.”
I look at her. Really look at her. And all I can feel is awe.
“Are you embarrassed I made a scene in front of everyone?” she asks, searching my face. “Because if you are?—”
“No.” The word is immediate. Absolute. I step in, press my forehead to hers. “Embarrassed? Babe, you could never embarrass me.”
My voice goes rough. “You stood up to him and protected both of us. You told the truth, and that was brave as hell. I’m proud of you.”
Her eyes glisten a little, but she doesn’t cry. She just breathes deeper, my words giving her permission to stand taller.
“You are so fucking sexy right now.” I brush a thumb under her jaw and lean in, voice dropping. “You want to get out of here?”
She nods, soft and sure. “I sure do.”
I smile. “Good. Because I want to take you home…” My mouth grazes hers. “And fuck you until the sun comes up.”
A breathless laugh. “Promise?”
“Oh yeah.”
No goodbyes. We leave hand in hand, no need for words.
There’s only one place we’re headed, and we both know it ends with her beneath me, moaning my name.
Chapter 17
Alex Sebring
Magnolia pads into the kitchen wearing a pale pink silky pajama set, its bottoms teasing me with a peek of her cheeks with every step she takes. The matching top has tiny buttons barely holding on, the fabric pulled tight enough across her tits that one good breath might pop them clean off. It’s a miracle of physics, and it’s begging for failure.
Damn. That kind of outfit was designed for ruining a man’s Saturday morning golfing plans.
Her legs go on forever, smooth and bare. Her hair’s a wild mess tamed into a bun, like she just rolled out of my dreams instead of our bed, and that sleepy little grin she gives me? It’s lethal.
She hums softly, opens the fridge door, and bends over to grab something from the bottom—shorts riding up in a way that makes me want to cancel my day of golf with Elias and take her back to bed.
“What time are you leaving?” she asks, voice casual, pretending she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to me.
“Tee time is in an hour.”
“Do you play golf with Elias a lot?”
“Every few months. He loves to pretend he stands a chance.”
She sips her coffee, lips pursed in mock thought. “Has he ever beaten you?”
I flash her a grin. “Hell no.”
“So this isn’t a friendly game between brothers?”
“It’s eighteen holes of brotherly ego and passive-aggressive shit talk. My kind of fun.”
