Chapter 22
SWAYZE
Four hours with Mia sitting between my legs in that little summer dress while we drank wine and fondled—for lack of a better word—wet clay was not my idea of fun.
Unless you enjoy being edged to fuck with no sign of relief and a perpetual boner that just won’t quit.
But if that’s the case, then you, sir, are a masochist, and I tip my hat to you. Me? I prefer to be the giver in that scenario.
If I were edging Mia for that length of time, bringing her close to the brink and not letting her fall… well now we’re talking. And my girl would know I’d always take good care of her in the end.
But for me, it’s a slow descent into madness because I can’t even find relief in that godforsaken shower.
What am I gonna do? Go hide in a bush somewhere to jack off?
Now we’re sitting around on the beach, fit to burst from the souvla—Greek kebabs—we just ate and might be a little buzzed, thanks to Katerina’s more than generous wine pours.
Ok, fine. Full disclosure. The meat helped us sober up a little, but we’re definitely still feeling it.
Mia’s laughing with Layla over fuck knows what. Our parents have all headed back to the hotel early, but Nick has a few friends meeting us here for a little afterparty.
Quite frankly, I can’t think of anything worse. I’d rather be back in our hotel room with my girl, but I can’t very well tell one of my best mates that I’d rather spend time alone not fucking his sister than celebrate his upcoming life sentence—I mean, wedding—with his friends.
I’m supposed to be here for him.
I’m his best man, and so far, I’ve barely acted like it.
Instead, I’m sitting here, watching Mia’s too short hemline fluttering in the evening breeze, pretending I’m not seconds away from hauling her away to bury myself so deep inside her, she’ll crawl instead of walk. For days.
Someone calls out to Niko from further down the beach, drawing my attention away from her naughty strappy sundress to zero in on a group of four—three guys and one girl—laughing and joking as they walk toward us.
Talk about a buzzkill.
Who the fuck are these guys? I don’t recognize them, but Mia sure does—there she goes, hauling ass down the beach. I’ve never seen her bolt like that, not even when we were running to make our flight.
Oh great, she’s flung herself into one of their arms. Can’t say I’m thrilled with this little development.
Nor the smug smile that her douche of an ex is currently sporting while staring over at me.
What are you looking at, you tool?
Forcing myself to relax and unclench my fists, I aim for nonchalant as the group approaches. It’s taking superhuman strength not to walk over there and rip my girl out from under that dude’s arm.
What the hell did she need me here for if she’s sooooo happy to see that guy?
She could’ve just asked him to be her fake boyfriend instead.
The closer they get, the harder I grind my teeth. I’ll have none left if I don’t get her back in my arms soon. This prick looks way too comfortable with my girl tucked against him.
Nick walks up beside me, slapping a hand on my back. “You good, bro?” He quirks a brow.
Fuck, I’m a lousy friend. I’m here for him, but he clearly thinks I’m borderline homicidal, judging by the look on his face.
“I’m cool. Who are they?” Nodding in the strangers’ direction, I take a swig of the beer he handed me.
Nick slings an arm around my shoulder and points at each person with his bottle, introducing them one by one.
He saves the fucker with his arm around my girl for last, clearly drip-feeding me his revenge for dating his sister, judging by his mischievous grin. Can’t say I blame him either.
“And the big dude with his arm around Mia is…” He smirks before turning to shout something at Layla, leaving me contemplating my best friend’s murder.
Does he want me to spill blood on the sand?
I like to think I’m a rational guy, a respectable P.D. lieutenant, but it’s fast becoming apparent I’m anything but when it comes to her. Especially now that my fucked-up mind has joined forces with my misguided idiot of a heart, blurring lines and convincing itself she’s mine to keep.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to drag her ex out to the waves and drown his dumbass after what she told me last night so I’m hanging on by a thin thread here. How much more am I supposed to take without it snapping?
“Sorry, man, what was I saying?” Nick looks questioningly at me and, oh look, I grind away another tooth.
Before I can muster up a response, the group joins us.
Mia notices my glare, smiles sheepishly, finally untangles herself from the douche, and walks across the black—like my mood—sand, to clasp my hand at my side.
Nope. I don’t fucking think so, Angel.
I tug her right in front of me and wrap my entire body around hers, resting my chin on her head. I couldn’t get physically closer to her if I tried, unless I whipped my dick out and buried it inside her right here and now, which isn’t the worst idea, but that’d probably be frowned upon… maybe.
But then, at least, there’d be no doubt in anyone’s mind that she’s mine.
The guy who just had his hands all over my girl steps forward and I glare at him in a silent warning to back the hell off.
Totally unbothered, he smirks, offering me his hand.
“Swayze, I assume? Nick’s told me all about you. I’m their cousin, Mario.”
Cousin.
He’s her fucking cousin.
Fuck me.
I’ve definitely lost my mind.
Entirely batshit.
The idea that he could be one of their million relatives didn’t even remotely occur to me—so out of my mind with need for this girl.
It takes me a minute to recover from the mental whiplash. I was so ready to slay this motherfucker, it’s a hard shift moving him back into the safe zone.
Biting back a snarl, I reluctantly lift a hand from around Mia’s waist to shake his, gripping it a little too tight, just because.
Nick claps his hands again, drawing all eyes back to him. “Well now, since we’re all here, how about a little truth or dare?”
Oh, fuck me.