Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(44)
“You’re nothing but a stupid whore,” he spits at her, focusing on the way she clutches to me. “You’re not worth the trouble.”
“I’m going to give you one chance to calm down and leave before I break your skull.” My tone is dark, the threat vibrating in the menacing words. “Nobody talks to Sierra like that. Do you understand me or should I show you what I’ll do to the next person who raises their voice or calls her a whore?”
Logan slides his venomous stare to me, his brows bunched together in thought. This guy really has no idea who I am or what I do for a living, because if he did, he would know that I don’t like repeating myself when it comes to scum like him. It’s much easier to hit someone instead. They don’t second guess you then.
“I don’t take kindly to people who find it so easy to talk to women like that. And I especially don’t like it when that woman's mine.”
Sierra tenses briefly before relaxing again. I almost steal a look at her, but don’t think I’m prepared for how I’ll feel if my slip of tongue impacted our relationship negatively. It’s better not to know.
“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it if I don’t, pretty boy? Stay out of it. This is between her,”—he moves a hand between him and Sierra—“and me.”
I wrap an arm around Sierra’s waist, as if on instinct, and pull her tight to my side, palming her hip in an attempt to calm myself down before I do something that I don’t want her to see.
“Go home, Logan. I didn’t tell Maeve anything. But regardless, she's your problem now, not mine. You made sure of that.” Sierra tries to reason with him, although her words end up sounding more like tired sighs than anything. Not like I blame her, we’re both exhausted. And from the way she talks about this guy—who I can only assume to be her ex-boyfriend—it’s clear that he’s hurt her. Bad.
Logan’s Adam’s apple bobs as he registers her words before deciding not to let it go. “I know that you talked to her, Sierra. You never could keep your mouth shut when it came to other people's business.”
She flinches against me as he continues to scare her and I bite my tongue when alarm bells start blasting in my ears. Holy mother of fuck. This guy is fucking dead.
I’m already in front of him, punching him square in the nose before he can blink. The solid crack in the air has my ego swelling as he stumbles backward, shooting his hand up to cradle his shattered nose as blood begins dripping onto the floor.
I unclench my fist and wince at the pain shooting through my knuckles but shrug it off as I move in on him again. He flinches when I grab him by the collar of his shirt and start dragging him behind me all the way to the front door.
I pull it open and shove him through the doorway, fighting off a satisfied grin when he trips over his own feet and falls to the floor, unable to catch his balance.
“If I see you here again you’ll be taken out on a Goddamn stretcher. Now fuck off.” I slam the door in his face and turn around just in time to catch Sierra as she jumps into my arms.
Sierra
Braden catches me without difficulty, capturing me beneath strong arms as I wrap my legs around his waist and thank him by placing my lips firmly on his. I thank him in a way that feels so much deeper than with common, expected words. He carries me towards my bedroom, shifting us so my butt is perched on his left arm, the move not surprising me in the slightest. Braden’s biceps are the size of my thighs. With his now free hand, he grips my nape, tilting my head and deepening the kiss. A sudden wave of appreciation has my skin buzzing and belly flooded with a few sets of flapping wings.
I've never been a girl who cheered for violence, but watching Braden slam his fist into my cheating ex-boyfriend's face—shit. From the bulging of the veins living in his forearm to the flex of his bicep when he swung, I was a goner. I’ve wanted to pounce on him from the second that he called me his woman. Usually I would have bristled at the dominant claim, but it had my legs feeling like jello instead. He might not have meant it, and may never say it again, but I’ve placed that shit in my memory. I won’t forget it.
With a sly swivel of my hips, I feel his arousal press against me and whimper, all past thoughts suddenly overpowered by the liquid heat pooling between my thighs. My palms lay flat on his shoulders before curling into them, pulling at his shirt to bring us even closer together. Our chests brush, a jolt between my legs making me gasp at the sensation that comes from my nipples rubbing against his solid pecs.
"Cold?" He pulls back and grins broadly, his dimples making a beautiful appearance. Brown eyes slide from my face to my chest then back again.
I feel his happiness in the very center of my chest as I shake my head. "No. I’m perfect.”
The silence wrapping around us would usually make my skin itchy but the only thing I feel right now is a sense of peace. A sense of belonging. I want to grip the feeling in my fists and shove it deep inside, storing it for a time where I know I’ll inevitably need it. But with every second that ticks by I feel it drifting away, becoming overshadowed by a cloud of doubt and fear. Doubt that I could ever let this thing between us become more than a fling, and fear that I wouldn’t have the chance to make that decision in the first place.
I’m placed gently on my back, in the middle of my bed and can’t help but gawk at the man in front of me. I wonder how I got here, with this power house of pure masculine energy and power towering over me, looking at me like I’m something more than a workaholic with a crooked relationship history and family drama. My muscles lock up as skepticism creeps into my head, and I can feel the peace in my chest slipping away before it settles, laying stagnant. It’s Braden’s whispered words that blanket those pesky thoughts. They’re just four otherwise simple words. Words that shouldn’t have my breath catching in my throat, but do so easily.