Page 32 of Protector

CHAPTERELEVEN

Shay

Brooks’s presence beside me calms me down better than the last two shots I did right before my friends left. I briefly toss around the thought that I’m getting too used to having him around. He’s become more than an employee, more than my protector. At times he feels like a friend; other times, my body is so drawn to him, I can’t take the longing for him to hold me. I don’t think he feels the same—not truly—though some of the looks I see in his eyes tells me he wouldn’t mind covering my body in a different way.

I mentally scold myself for goingtherewhen this talk is about something so opposite of that. “Do you remember when he texted that I’d be asking for trouble if I did the lingerie show?”

“Yeah.”

“It reminded me of something that happened when I was at college.”

He gives me a nod of encouragement. “You said you were only there for a semester. Did something…bad happen?”

I nod and look away. I honestly don’t think what happened to me was my fault. I’m not a “blame the victim” person at all. But when I review the events of that night in my head, I know certain choices I made…I wouldn’t make them if I had the chance again.

Brooks squeezes my hand. “Take your time.”

“It’s not… Well, a couple of girls and I went out to what was called a”—I make air quotes—“Pajama Party at a frat house, but it was a traditional night where girls dressed in sexy lingerie.”

I watch Brooks carefully for any judgement but see none.

“Anyway, to keep it short, I ended up meeting a guy, we had some drinks, and before long we were in his room.”

“Shit…” I hear Brooks hiss under his breath, and his hold on my hand tightens. When my eyes widen, he lets go completely. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I just…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know where this is going and I—fuck,sorry, this isn’t about me. Go ahead.”

My heart clenches at his reaction. A protector by nature and not just profession—I’m sure—it must not be easy to hear things like this. But I continue.

Grabbing his hand again, I lean forward, look him in the eyes. “He didn’t… Things just got out of hand, fast, but thankfully, his roommate opened the door on us.”

I catch a noticeable deflation of Brooks’s chest, some relief on his face.

“A moment before that…I was terrified, and he hurt me, physically. I never told anyone.”

Brooks scoots in next to me, wraps his arms around my shoulders, and pulls me into his comforting chest. “Why, Shay? You could have pressed charges.”

“I know, and I feel terrible for that, but part of me didn’t want to admit going to college was a mistake. I wanted to forget about the whole thing. As much as I wanted to be a fashion designer, it felt…tainted. So, I came home, told my mom I changed my mind, and went full force into modeling.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” He nudges my chin up and toward him. “It’s not too late to do something. Even if it just means me paying him a visit and kicking his fucking ass. What’s this asshole’s name?”

I look away, the smile fighting to get out feeling inappropriate. “Brooks, I’m telling you this for a reason. I was wearing these cute little sexy jammies, borderline lingerie—”

“No, screw that! It doesn’t matter what you were wearing.”

“I know. Let me finish. I know it wasn’t my fault but with the lingerie show and then what Sam said to me…”

“So, you think this frat guy is the one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“All the more reason for me to pay him a visit. What’s his name?”

“Brendan. The voice, though... It’s not how I remember.”

He rubs his jaw, and I see it clenching beneath his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Either way, this guy needs some instruction.”

Nerves suddenly rattling me, I sit up and turn to him, rest a hand on his chest. “Look, you’re not a cop. You’re supposed to protect me, not do this. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Um…have you seen me?” His crooked smile and sexy tone give me serious tingles in all the naughty places. “I think I can handle the former frat boy.”

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