Page 30 of Stained Protector

He cocks a smug grin and snickers. “She’s the sister of your… what is she to you, that Anya girl?”

“Someone I will kill you for touching.” Clipped and flawless, the warning strikes with a scorpion’s tail. My tongue has been sitting on the threat since Davis and Anya met, mostly out of possessiveness.

“Not my type.” He waves a dismissive hand while lolling his head. “I like fireballs; the angrier, the better. You think my wife is okay with her?”

He winces while cursing, a passing waitstaff shooting him an obscured judgmental look. He and high-end restaurants are worlds apart, so Davis being here is unexpected.

“Oh, I forgot you and my wife haven’t met yet,” he sulks, thumping his head on the wall. “Want to?”

“No.”

The women’s restroom opens, but it’s not Anya. Davis winks at her, and she responds with a tamed giggle.

“She’ll be sad,” Davis adds.

“She doesn’t know I exist.”

“Eh,” he drawls with a left shoulder shrug. “She thought I was cheating on her with you.”

If I had a habit of rolling my eyes, they’d get stuck in the back and stay there for vacation. It warrants a break from this man’s existence.

“Is he on bail?” I inquire, leaving the name in a mutual understanding.

“He will be tomorrow.”

That’s all I need. Anya returns at the same time, hesitant fingers gripping my elbow and rapt eyes scrutinizing Davis. Anya quirks a strained smile at him, which he ticks an amused brow at.

“He was asking for directions,” I explain away her confusion.

Her lips are agape with understanding while I shut down Davis’s urge to correct her with a cold stare.

“Come, Anya.” My hand hovers on the small of her back, deft fingers accidentally slipping under some crisscrossed patterns, and guide her away from the man.

“He looked familiar,” she surmises and gasps with revelation as the valet exits my car. “The cartoon on the milk carton.”

I softly pinch the tip of her ear after she sits in the passenger seat and remind her to fasten her seatbelt. She hugs the bouquet with one arm and aims for the seatbelt while I get to the other side.

On the way back home, the road is less jammed as everyone is gathering at the riverbank to kiss under lampposts. Peculiar tradition, but some people started a petition to allow written wishes to be tied on trees like the famous tradition in Japan. The tenants nearby were not happy.

“Hey, pretty baby,” I croon, hushed, as I shake her awake inside the garage.

She yawns blearily, dozing off while I unbuckle the seatbelt and huddle her into my arms. Anya whines, sluggishly fighting me from taking her flowers after I set her down on the couch.

“I’m putting them in water,” I explain and stifle a laugh. “They’ll wilt if I don’t.”

She promptly lets go and rubs her red-rimmed eyes to relieve the sleep. I drop the stems into an unfinished glass of water.

A thump and a whimpering cry echo from the couch. I toss my suit jacket onto the chair and walk around the cushioned arm. She lies on the fuzzy rug, eyes barely open before they give up, and sleeps.

Was dinner that tiring?

The hem of her dress rides up further on her thighs, and the white lace of her panties parades teasingly. A fire burns in my blood, stirring tightness in my slacks as I untangle my invasive eyes from her defenseless body.

I fish a wet towel from the bathroom and clean the light layer of makeup off her face. The distraction works for a bit, but the panties stand out too much. I swallow a menacing growl and yank the heavy blanket from the couch, draping it over her bare legs and waist.

Oh, her perky tits.

They’re right there, and they’ll be as soft as I imagine them overflowing between my fingers. I’ve done many bad things but taking advantage of a sleeping woman is a line I won’t cross.

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