It was a Volvo. Clean. Tidy. No garbage scattered on the seats. No beer bottles or cigarette packets discarded on the floor. Solid tires. No scrapes or dents in the paint work.
Bryce.
The hair on the back of my neck began to prickle.
Was this kid a fucking saint or what?
Feeling my stomach churn, I bounded the steps to the front door and mentally braced myself for what I was going to encounter inside.
I had already spent the day torturing myself about this fucking date. I kept telling myself it was a good thing, but was no closer to accepting it.
And nothing could prepare me for actually coming face to face with Chastity and her date.
Or how good she looked.
When she saw me, she stopped and paused, and we stared at each other for a moment, the air tight with tension.
I drank in every inch of her. Her pouty red lips. The tangled bun of dark hair and the stray curls falling around her beautiful face. The way the little black dress clung to her luscious curves.
The way Bryce stood there looking like the cat who got the fucking cream.
Jealousy burned through me. I glared at him, my hands fisting at my side.
Chastity glanced at me and she knew, she fucking knew, this was killing me inside. But if I thought she was enjoying the pain she was inflicting on me, then I was wrong, because when our eyes met she didn’t look satisfied, she looked heart-broken.
And guess what, sunshine, you’re the ass who broke it.
With gritted teeth, I watched Bryce slip her jacket over her shoulders and wipe a stray strand of hair from her face.
It took every ounce of restraint to not go over there and pull his hands off her and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before.
There were a million things I wanted to do, but nothing more than taking her to my bed and burying myself so deeply in her until the ache in my chest vanished. I wanted to feel her surrender beneath me. Wrap her legs around me. Moan my name against my lips.
Awkwardness was as thick as smoke in the room. Obviously, Chastity felt it too because she escaped to her bedroom to get her purse, leaving me alone with her date.
I told myself I wasn’t going to say anything to him. That it wasn’t my place. Chastity was twenty-two years old and could date whoever she wanted. But one look at the good-looking kid in the chinos and well-fitted shirt made me prickly with jealousy.
He smiled and I wanted to punch all his perfect white teeth down his throat.
“You must be Ruger,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Chastity has told me all about you.”
I doubted that very much.
Reluctantly, I took his hand and gave it a nice, firm pump. “You must be Bryce.”
He grinned but it faded when I didn’t let go of his hand and instead stepped closer to whisper in his ear. The next few words out of my mouth were said on impulse and with violent warning. When I stepped back, the kid had gone white. I should feel bad saying what I said, but my conscience was no match for my jealousy or the fierce protectiveness I felt sweeping through me.
Unable to stand it another moment, I turned and stormed out.
This was fucking killing me.
I rode to the clubhouse. I was going to get drunk. And I mean, I was going to get fall-down drunk.
I played pool with Maverick. But it was hard to focus when Chastity was out with another man.
She had looked like every man’s dream tonight.
Yeah, everyman’s wet dream.
I had no doubt Bryce would be itching for a taste, despite my whispered words of warning in his ear before I left. He was probably pressing his body up against hers while I was here shooting pool and talking shit to Maverick.
Rage spiraled through me at the thought. And instead of shutting it out, I began to obsess about it. About him pulling her against him as they danced just so he could rub his college-boy erection against her tight body. Him running his hands up and down her tiny waist and settling on her ass. Him taking her lovely face in his hands and kissing her…
My hands curled into fists, and without thinking, I pounded them against the pool table.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Maverick asked. “You’ve been a moody sonofabitch all fucking night.”
“Nothing.”
Maverick shook his head as he lined up his shot. “You’re a bear with a sore head, buddy.” He sank his last ball into the corner pocket. “And come to think of it, I’ve never seen you lose your cool. Makes me think it’s got something to do with a woman.”
“Who are you? Fucking Columbo?” I asked as I took a shot and missed.