Page 2 of Myla: The Hawthornes

It would’ve been freaking ideal if I knew which tent was mine. There were only a couple sleeping bags and backpacks in ours, which should’ve narrowed it down…but there was no wayin hell I was going to start poking around. That was a good way to see people naked that youneverwanted to see naked. There were only so many rooms inside the clubhouse, and most of the boys had brought tents. Most of the boys were also related to me in some way.

Looking down, I fumbled with my phone, trying to turn on the little flashlight, when a pair of unfamiliar fingers wrapped around my hips.

I looked at them dumbly for a moment, my mind not quite catching up before lips hit the back of my neck.

“What the fuck?” I snapped, yanking at the hands.

“Just me,” the guy said with a laugh.

Stumbling a step away, I turned on him. He was vaguely familiar. Tall with light hair and a smile I’d clocked earlier in the night.

“You should probably go back inside,” I said with a little shooing motion. I just wanted to find my sleeping bag and crash for the night.

“Right,” he murmured, still chuckling. He reached for me again.

“I’m not kidding,” I insisted, glancing toward the Aces in the lawn chairs. They hadn’t noticed us, and one of the chairs was empty.

“You’ve been dancin’ on me all night,” he said, his hand wrapping around my waist.

Now, I’m not sure if it was the liquid courage racing through my veins—that I was on club property and I’dalwaysbeen safer there than anywhere else—or the fact that he wasn’t aggressive but just seemed to have a hard time recognizing a brush off, but I wasn’t scared.

Annoyed, yes. Scared, not at all.

“I was dancing with everyone,” I replied, reasonably, I thought, as I yanked on my arm.

“You know that’s not true.” He chuckled as he pulled me closer.

“Not interested, bud,” I said, finally getting to the point. “Find someone else to hook up with.”

“Nah, I want you,” he replied, yanking me the last few steps until I collided with his chest.

“This is not going to go well for you,” I tried again, twisting my arm out of his hand.

“Agree to disagree,” he replied easily.

“Yeah, that’s not how this works,” I snapped, done with his shit.

I’d grown up with a dad that taught me to take no shit, four older brothers, and about a million boy cousins. So, I’d been wrestling with males since I could walk. Unfortunately, I was pressed so tightly against him that I didn’t have a lot of room to move as he shifted us toward the wall of the clubhouse.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, leaning toward me.

“You get your face anywhere near me and I’ll bite the shit out of you,” I warned, pushing at him.

“I could get into that.” He grinned.

Jesus, the guy was persistent.

I knew I couldn’t let him get me against the wall, because then I’d be stuck. Thankfully, he shifted just enough as he was maneuvering us that I could get an arm between us, and that was all I needed. Reaching down, I ignored his moronic groan of happiness as my hand grazed his belly. The high sound he made as I grabbed his balls and twisted filled me with satisfaction.

“When a woman says she’s not interested,” I said, taking a quick step back as I let go. “She means it, fuckwad.”

“You cunt,” he breathed. He was bent in half, one of his hands cupping his junk, but he still had the capacity to reach for me, and I could tell by the furious look on his face that he’d changed his mind about how the next few minutes would go.

That was when the fear finally kicked in. A little late, but whatever.

I jerked backward, losing my balance.

As my arms began to pinwheel, very familiar hands wrapped around my waist and set me further away from the asshole. He’d straightened up, but one of his hands was still cupping his junk as he glared.

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