Page 51 of Chasing Lynda

I almost groan when I admit that. What the fuck is happening to me? It seems that since I set my eyes on Lynda, I’ve lost any game I’ve ever had.

She giggles but it’s just for a moment, she returns immediately serious when she explains. “No, not the cheese sauce. I meant with Monroe. Earlier today on the beach and then at the photo shoot. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know—”

Fuck.

Something in my chest aches at the vulnerable look in her eyes; I feel so drawn to her that I struggle to find any words. This is a first for me. I always know what to say. But maybe the reason why I feel so exposed in front of this woman, is that deep down, Lynda and I are a lot more similar than I thought. “You looked like you had the situation under control, earlier,” I state, keeping my gaze fixed onto hers. “You said you were about to knee that motherfucker in the nuts, if I remember correctly.”

She shakes her head and her next words confirm my hunch. “Yeah, I was. I know that looks fearless as a reaction but in reality, I was terrified.”

I understand that completely. I act all cocky with women to hide my insecurity. No conquest seems to be able to fix what Chrissie broke all those years ago, when she made me feel that I wasn’t enough for her by sleeping with all my friends behind my back.

“I’m glad I was able to help.” I praise her. “But you could’ve definitely fooled me. You didn’t look scared.”

She nods, moving closer to me. “I swore to myself that I’d never let bad shit happen to me again. That I’d never be passive and freeze in the face of danger. I’d rather go down fighting next time.”

I think she’s referring to her ex, Zane mentioned a bad breakup and Lynda herself talked about having her choices taken away from her. I’m dying to know what happened and to find the motherfucker who tried to hurt this sweet, feisty creature and teach him how you treat a woman. But this isn’t the time or place to take names and deliver retribution.

“Bennett, are you ok?” she asks me, probably noticing that my thoughts have taken a dark turn.

I snap out of it, tightening my hold on her hand. “Peachy. There’s only one thing that could improve the situation.” I dare.

She offers me one of those sweet, disarming smiles. “What is it?”

My smile widens. “Another one of your kisses and if you promise me to be my date at tomorrow’s Battle of the Bands?” I look at the guys, all staring in our direction. “They’ll be so jealous.”

She frowns. “Bennett, I’d love to go on a date with you but I don’t want to cause trouble with your friends. I—I hung out with Carter and Zane and ...”

Shit. This isn’t going the way I was hoping. “There’s no problems, trust me. I think it’s safe to say that we all like you. You know that, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Carter said you guys are cool if I hang out with each of you until I get to know you better?”

I confirm it. “That’s right. Each of us wants to be the last man standing. But while I can’t promise you that there won’t be jealousy and a bit of disappointment when you eventually choose one of us, we’ll be all right. The cards are on the table and the losers will accept your decision.”

She relaxes at my words. “Good. I think you guys are really cool and I’d hate to come between you.”

“That isn’t possible,” I whisper against her lips. “And you’re pretty cool yourself and so fucking beautiful that the entire club is looking at you.”

I seize her lips with mine, wishing that we were in my room, rather than on the dance floor; especially when she responds to my kiss with just as much passion as I put into every peck, every lick, every soft bite I give her.

A hand on my shoulder forces me to break the kiss and I’m about to laugh, thinking is one of the guys who’s decided to cock block me.

“Hey Gorgeous Tits, wanna dance?” A total stranger is trying to step between me and Lynda. “You’ve been dancing with her for half an hour, asshole. It’s my turn now, fuck off.”

I let go of Lynda’s hand, turning to face the stranger who obviously has a death wish. “Dude,” I bite out, clenching my fists at the nerve this guy is showing. “I don’t know where the fuck you come from and to be honest, I don’t even care. Having a VIP pass doesn’t mean you can check your goddamn manners at the entrance when you show your ID. Find yourself another dance partner, before I decide that you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

The guy must not only have a death wish but also be hard of hearing or something, because he doesn’t walk away. “I’ll complain to management for the shitty service in this place. Let me dance with Miss Gorgeous Tits here, or I’ll get one of the bouncers to deal with you!”

What the fuck has this idiot smoked? “Well fuck,” I react, barely resisting the urge to rearrange his teeth in his mouth. “You’re talking to management. So I’m afraid you’re S.O.L. And by the way, this isn’t the way you ask a lady to dance, even if you weren’t interrupting,” I state, not hiding my distaste for this entire interaction.

“You’re fucking management? Then it’s even worse!” The man puts a hand in his pocket and produces his phone. “Look. I paid the extra for a dance with Miss Wet T-shirt. I saw your friend turn down another guy earlier and he was telling your bouncers that he paid too. What the fuck is going on?”

***

Lynda

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I LOOK AT THE MAN WITH a bewildered expression. “What do you mean ‘you paid extra’?”

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