29. Sophie #2
Finally, I laugh. “Yes, the other guy was smart enough to leave my angry ogre. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t halfway across the state by now.”
Suddenly, Grace starts coughing and choking on her own drink.
“Gracie?” we all ask but she just motions somewhere behind me but I’m too busy making sure she’s okay to look.
“Halfway across the state you say? Sweet Harry, is he suicidal?” Grace whispers, still coughing.
“Who?” Before she can answer, the he in question speaks up.
“Hey, dream girl. Fancy seeing you here.” A voice I’ve already heard once before today makes my head turn. Alan, the same guy from Peace Out diner, is standing right next to me at the bar, holding a beer, and looking at me with that dazzling, dimpled smile of his as his eyes rake openly over me.
Theè mou , he is suicidal!
There’s no hiding his appreciation or the dirty thoughts running through his head. I’m pretty sure anyone around us can see it written all over his face.
“Hey, surfer boy.”
He grins and leans over the bar. “Still married to that brute?”
“I still am.” I dangle my now ringed hand in front of him, watching him with zero enthusiasm.
Suddenly, his easy-going attitude shifts and he looks at me with a narrowed gaze. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course, why?”
“Because your eyes don’t shine like they did in the morning. Is it because of me? Did I cause you trouble earlier today?”
“No.” I shake my head, leaving it at that because what am I supposed to say? My life is too complicated right now to explain it to anyone.
“Is it your husband? Because if he doesn't realize what he has and doesn’t treat you right, I’ll be more than happy to steal you away. ”
“Oh yeah? And you’ll treat me right?” Men…always think these big words are supposed to woo us.
His gaze heats up. “Baby, just say the word, and I’ll make all your dreams come true.” He takes a step toward me.
“Well, aren’t you a fucking tooth fairy?” Clover growls, right before his fist is flying.
I yelp, everyone around us gasps, Alan cries out, clutching his bloody nose with his hand. Matteo jumps over the bar, stepping in between the two men just in time because Clover’s evidently not done and charges at Alan again.
“Um, Mr. Sheriff, please don’t make me restrain you. I really, really don’t want to end up in the cell tonight,” Matteo pleads just as Griff and Luke grab Clover’s arms, yanking him away.
He looks over Matteo’s shoulder and shouts, “Stay the fuck away from my wife!” Clover shrugs off his friends’ hold, who help the surfer-boy up, making sure he leaves and whirls toward me.
Everyone else around us, disappears as he closes the distance between us in two large steps.
His piercing green eyes bore into mine and I barely remember to breathe or swallow or make my heart beat.
“Your wife, huh?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper in a rowdy bar. “That’s a bold statement. I think…I think everyone who didn’t believe us yet do now.”
“I didn’t do it for them.” His voice is low and dangerous, and any sane person would take a step back.
Unfortunately, I’m not one of those.
“No?”
“No.”
“Then, for who?”
“For you. Because you seem to forget that you’re mine.”
“I-I am?” My heart is hammering against my chest, forgetting all about the distance we’re supposed to put in between us and this confusing man.
Clover leans in, his lips just a breath away from the shell of my ear and a shiver runs down my spine. “I licked it, so it’s mine,” he growls, the sounds so animalistic, so primal, my knees shake .
“But you haven’t,” I pant out, my breathing ragged as my breasts brush against his heaving chest with each inhale.
“Haven’t what?”
“Licked it.” I run my tongue over my bottom lip, Clover’s eyes tracing the movement before locking with mine and there’s so much in them.
So much heat, possession, fury, that finally my instincts kick in I try to take a step back, but his arm shoots out, wrapping around my neck as he brings me so close to his face.
I can taste the beer still drying on his lips and the anger still rolling off him in waves.
“God knows I tried…I guess it’s time to rectify my little mistake.” Before I can ask what he means, two strong arms wrap around my thighs, lifting me off my feet and over his shoulder.
I yelp but the sound gets lost in the parting crowd as he strides out of the bar. His large palm coming to rest on the hem of my skirt.
“The color of your panties belongs only to me, little menace.”
Theè mou… I swallow a whimper. Why was that so hot?
“Clover, let me down.” I need to get off him. Away from him. As far as I can. Now!
“If I were you, I’d keep those pretty lips shut before they get you into any more trouble.” The late evening chill runs over my heated skin.
“Why am I in trouble?”
“Sophie,” he growls. “I cannot talk to you before we get home.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not into exhibitionism.”
I open and close my mouth a few times but no sound comes out.
What the fuck does that mean?
My heart and thoughts are racing so fast, I haven’t noticed that we’re in our apartment building. Four flights of stairs later, Clover is opening the front door and finally sets me down. almost running away from me into the living room.
I wobble on my feet from being over his shoulder that long. Or maybe it’s from his hot and cold routine.
“Wh-what did you mean?” I ask, but it’s like he can’t hear me, pacing around the living room, his hands gripping the back of his neck in some sort of internal struggle .
“I knew that ring wouldn’t be enough to keep the motherfuckers from my wife.”
I swallow hard. “You keep saying that.”
“What?” He stops, looking at me as if remembering that I was here.
“That I’m your wife.” I swallow again. “You keep saying that.”
Clover looks at me with deadly intensity, his nostrils flare as if whatever struggle he was having, is now over. “You are.” He stops. “For the next year, you’re my wife. Mine, ” he grits out and kisses me, swallowing the gasp I release.
He. Is. Kissing. Me.
What was it I was saying about staying away from Clover? No idea.
Because he makes me forget my own name as I answer with a kiss of my own.