Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(43)
Chapter Eighteen
BRADEN
I see him before Sierra does—the thin figured guy standing a few doors down from her apartment, clearly not sure which one is hers as his eyes flicker from one to the next. He seems relaxed, though. Relaxed but curious, like the building is familiar but he’s forgotten what it looked like.
“Who the fuck are you?” I spit, letting the words smack the guy waiting near across the face so that I don’t have to. I don’t recognize him at first or second glance, and I grow annoyed, feeling like I should know the guy curling his fingers into his palm, eying Sierra like she’s his favourite snack.
“Who are you?” He throws my words back at me while moving closer and attempting to look over my shoulder when I wrap my arm around Sierra and slide her behind me, not appreciating the way he looks at her. We’re already in front of her apartment, seeing as hers is the one directly beside the staircase. It helps settle me knowing that he’s not already too close to her space.
Cocking my brow when he takes another two steps towards me, I meet him half-way and place my hands on his narrow shoulders. I squeeze hard before shoving him back, smirking when he stumbles a few feet away.
“Tell me who you are before I drag your sorry ass outside.” By the look of him, it wouldn’t be that hard. He’s skinnier than most of the teenagers I train at the gym. He probably fights like one of them too, all hot-headed and cocky. Sloppy, without a plan.
“What are you doing here, Logan?” Sierra asks, sounding exasperated with this Logan guy. I find comfort in that. She’s behind me again and starts to run her hand up my spine, the tight, bunched-up muscles there relaxing slightly.
The little prick takes the short distraction as an invitation to sneak past us, ducking under my arm when I try to catch the back of his dress shirt, and slides into Sierra’s apartment. Sierra must have unlocked the door while I was busy trying to get his name.
Grunting under my breath, I follow Sierra into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind us. Logan is standing by the kitchen island, shaking like a leaf with what I would assume to be an ungraspable amount of adrenaline. It’s probably burning his blood, making it thump in his ears. His chest is probably tight, the thought of seeing Sierra give another guy even a spare glance making his vision tint with red, darkening around the edges until all he can focus on is him.
I know that’s how he feels, because it’s how I feel. The only difference between us is that I’m not the one watching her touch another man, attempting to comfort him with slightly, reassuring touches and whispered words.
As he watches us through an angry haze, I witness the last of his self-restraint snap like a stretched elastic band. The second Sierra leans up on her toes, both hands gripping onto my right bicep like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded, and presses her lips to the top of my shoulder in a short, sweet kiss, he’s attempting to throw himself at us.
When I guessed how this guy would handle himself in a fight, I was one-hundred-percent accurate. With a loose jaw and wild eyes, Logan swings his fist in the air, the hit sloppily aimed at my face. The urge to laugh is too strong to fight as I catch his fist mid-swing, wrapping my hand fully around it and squeezing. I don’t stop squeezing when he tries to pull his arm back towards him, or when he hisses through his teeth at the pain. I stop when she asks me to, sounding only half like the Sierra that I’ve come to know.
“Let him go. He’s not worth the energy,” she says under her breath, staring up at me with a silent plea in her steel-grey eyes. “I just want him to leave.”
I drop his hand and he pulls it to his chest immediately, staring down at it like he can’t believe it’s not broken. It would have been easy to shatter his hand in mine, I hope he knows that I didn’t do it on purpose, that it was me that held back on what I was fully capable of doing to him.
The sigh that escapes my mouth when I peer down at Sierra rattles me. She clings to my side like an adorable, Sierra sized koala bear, and I feel a piece of me crack wide open at the sight, baring that small, yet significant part of myself to her whether she realizes it or not.
There’s no mistaking the feelings that have begun flapping away in my chest. Yet I can’t find it in myself to run and hide from them. I realize now that I want them. I want her. Not just for one night, but for every night. I don’t want to drive her home after fucking her raw. I want to fall asleep beside her warm, naked body and make her breakfast in the morning. I’m not a cook, but I can try. I want to learn her every quirk and flaw. I want to hear about every important moment in her life, good or bad I don’t care. I just want to know her. She deserves someone who will put the effort in. And I’ll be damned if I let another guy seize the opportunity before I can.
It’s Logan’s voice that pulls me out of my head, the thoughts disappearing before I can grab hold of them and shove them in a box for later. “You sneaky little bitch. It was you that told Maeve where I was tonight, wasn’t it? Were you messing around with this guy when we were together, Sierra? Is that why you won’t give me another chance?” He’s rambling, eyes flinging around the room, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. Sierra tenses around my arm and moves impossibly closer to me, seeking comfort.
The pieces of the unfinished puzzle slowly start to come together as I recognize the fancy buffed dress shoes and ironed suit jacket from the hotel restaurant earlier. The one grabbing on Sierra like she was his to touch. The thought of that alone is enough to have every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to throw him to the ground and teach him the proper way to throw a punch.