Chapter 16 #2
“The only thing sloppy in our relationship is when my girl's lips are around my cock. Isn’t that right, Angel?”
Wow, uhhhh… Swayze woke up from his nap and chose violence.
I’m so shocked, all I can do is giggle in response. Smirking, he kisses the top of my head, his arms iron bands still wrapped around my waist.
Like, what? Who is this guy?
I’ve known Swayze to argue—obviously, this is us—but I’ve never heard him launch straight into a crude attack quite like this with a virtual stranger.
The look on Pete’s face is priceless, his eyes wide, and mouth slack, before it settles on disgust, which, not gonna lie, leaves me a little smug.
“Oh, now it makes sense. You’re as vulgar as she is. I see why you’d slum it with the likes of her.”
I stiffen in Swayze’s arms, my cheeks heating in embarrassment, only fueling my rising anger. I’m still letting his words cut me, and I hate that. I thought I was better prepared to face him. In all our years together, he only aimed his venom at an audience of one.
Namely me.
In front of others, he’d play the doting, perfect boyfriend. I anticipated the dirty looks and thinly veiled barbs, but I never expected a no-holds-barred, full-on attack—with witnesses.
Lucky me.
“The only way I’m slumming it right now is by wasting an ounce of oxygen talking to you Paul.” Swayze’s voice grinds out low and menacing.
“It’s Pete.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your name is. The only thing I care about is you getting out of our faces before I toss you off the cliff for even looking at my girl, let alone insulting her.”
Spots dance in my vision, and I struggle to breathe, sirens blaring where words should be forming. I should say something, anything.
I had all these things lined up in my head, ready to show him he couldn’t hurt me again, but right now, I’ve got nothing.
Apparently, I left my badass comebacks alongside my dignity in airport security.
Swayze’s fighting my battle alone, and that’s not his job. He’s supposed to be here as man candy, not go to war for me.
I’m the idiot who put myself in this position in the first place. I should be getting the final say.
Fighting for focus, I dig my nails into my palms, so deep they’ll likely draw blood.
Come on, Mia. You’re better than this. He doesn’t get to hurt you anymore.
Frustration burns as the words stick in my throat. Why won’t they come out?
Say something, dammit.
Pete huffs, spinning on his heel, walking away from us before I can get my shit together, leaving my heart sinking to the soles of my feet.
It’s only the first day, I should cut myself some slack. But I’m so pissed off that I let him talk about me that way—and in front of Swayze too. It’s like I’ve learned nothing.
Jaw tight, teeth grinding together to the point of pain, I aim the biggest death glare in his direction. But it’s pointless. It’s not like he has eyes in the back of his head.
C minus for effort, Georgiou.
Swayze spins me in his arms, tilting my chin up to look at him, his usually icy eyes swimming with heated concern.
“You okay, Angel?” he asks in a hushed whisper, his thumb gently skimming my jaw.
This isn’t the concerned boyfriend act, he’s really seeing me.
My eyes burn, my throat swelling with emotion, but when I open my mouth to respond, nothing comes out.
Crap, no.
Swayze’s face swims and blurs as tears flood my eyes. He lets out a strangled noise, pulling me into his chest, his big palm running up and down my back.
Instantly, his warm, woody scent surrounds me, and I bury my nose in his chest, just breathing him in. I have no clue what magic pheromones this man has, but my muscles start to unlock as I snuggle in closer. My frustration slowly ebbs away, his presence a balm to my soul.
Needing more contact, I sneak my fingers under his shirt to graze his warm skin, and a sense of calm washes over me for the first time in weeks.
“What the fuck was Nick thinking? That asshole shouldn’t be here.” Swayze’s tense murmur has me rearing back in his arms to stare up at him, that flash of calm instantly evaporating.
His eyes burn with silver fury, his body practically vibrating. He’s a formidable presence, broad shoulders squared, jaw clenched tight, and those molten eyes still locked on Pete.
The second his grip on me loosens, I fly into panic mode because I sure as shit don’t need him making a scene here.
“He doesn’t know. Don’t say anything, Swayze. Just leave it, please.” Standing on tiptoes, I cup his face in my hands, tugging until his gaze meets mine. “Please, Swayze. Let me handle it.”
His eyes scan mine, instantly softening, and he sucks in a deep breath, nodding tightly as Nick's voice calls out. “Everyone, grab some pizza and make your way to the pool beds. Let’s get settled before the sunset starts.”
The short-lived relief at his agreement disappears under a wave of fear.
Oh god. The last thing I can stomach is pizza right now.
“Why are you eating pizza again, Mia? You’re getting a little soft around the edges. A man like me needs to present a certain image, you know, and that extends to you too.” Pete’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day, reminding me of the not-so-silent judgment I used to live with daily.
My stomach roils with nausea.
Fuck, a half an hour in his presence and all my hard work’s destroyed. It took me so long to realize junk food wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction. Swayze unknowingly helped with that when I moved in with him, insisting on our pizza and movie nights.
Now I’m right back where I started, anxiety gripping my throat at the knowledge that he’ll watch me eat it. Silently judging every inch of me.
Swayze draws me out of my head, his warm palms sliding up and down my arms.
“What pizza do you want, Angel? Pineapple?” He grins down at me, trying to lighten the mood again.
“You go ahead, I’m not really hungry.” Flashing him a tiny smile, I nod in a way I hope says, I’m fine, let it go.
Yeah. That wasn’t gonna fly.
Immediately, his brows slam down over his eyes, concern written all over his face.