Page 27 of Tamed By You

“Oh, hey,” I say, then glance over at Harry. It seems Brett’s arrival has snapped him out of his trance because he looks pissed and is giving Brett daggers.

“Ali, your shoulders are looking a little red. do you need some help?" Brett offers. Realizing it's another moment to tease Harry because I’m still reeling from him flaunting that waitress in front of me and then ruining my chances with hot cabana guy, I agree.

“Why, thank you, Brett. You are such a gentleman. I would love that,” I answer him, but my gaze is fixed on Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose as he reaches over, taking one of the half-drunk glasses of margaritas from our table.

I climb onto the daybed and lay on my front, gathering my hair and moving it over my shoulder, out of the way. Brett sits beside me, decanting the lotion into his hands, and I squeal when his cold fingers begin to rub it into my shoulders.

He chuckles. “Sorry, I should have warned you my hands were a little cold from holding my beer.”

“It’s okay,” I reply.

His touch feels good; firm and deep, and I let out a little moan of appreciation. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Harry avoids looking at us, focusing on the pool.

“Oooh, that feels good. You have amazing hands.” I groan, rolling my head from side to side, all the while, making sure Harry is watching.

I don't miss how his nostrils flare as his hand grips the glass so tight I fear it will crack.

“Let me do it here too.” His hands wander and suddenly the clasp of my bikini top is open, and I freeze. I grip my hands to my breasts and sit up.

“No, not there, don't do that,” I choke out, fear gripping hold of me instantly I feel myself begin to panic, my heart picking up speed, my brain telling me to flee. God, I'm making a scene.

“Sorry, I just didn't want to get lotion on your top,” Brett confesses, his tone apologetic.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I… I…” I can't fasten my bikini myself without moving my hands and exposing my breasts. I scramble up the daybed, needing space; to get away from him and try and cover myself somehow. Frantically looking around for a towel, a top, something, anything to cover myself. It’s then I feel the soft cotton of a towel brushing against my burning skin. Harry wraps it around my body, holding it together, covering me completely.

“Here, you’re okay, I've got you,” he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear. He has the towel together in his hand and gives me a nod. “I won't let go; I promise.”

I sag in relief and fasten my top, adjusting myself beneath the safety of the towel. I nod to let him know I’m done, and he removes the towel, letting out a long exhale.

“Shit, Ali, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I—”

“No, no, it's fine,” I say, reaching for my champagne glass, my hands still trembling.

Nobody can see. You’re okay.

“I’m gonna go find the others. We good, yeah?” Brett asks, tone unsure.

“Yeah, absolutely,” I reply giving him a reassuring nod, and he leaves.

An awkward silence falls between me and Harry I have to acknowledge what he just did for me. He could have been a dick and laughed. But he didn't. He saw me panicking, and came to my rescue, and I’ve never been more grateful to have him around than in that moment. He will never truly understand what he just did for me.

“Thank you… for that, I erm…”

“You don't need to thank me.” He reaches for my hand and links our pinky fingers, giving it a light squeeze. “I got you Ali Cat, pinky promise.” His tone is so soft and genuine, it makes me relax and feel… safe.

I chew the inside of my cheek, unsure what to make of what just happened. Harry was nice to me, and now I’m even more confused by this weird back and forth we have. I’ve never been good with using my words to express myself, so instead, I press a soft kiss to his cheek and whisper, “Thank you.”

After soaking up the last of the afternoon sun we then headed for the hotel's spa. Everyone’s sitting in white robes, waiting to be called.

Jack and Ria head off for a couple’s massage and Kate and Harley get called for their treatments at the same time as Mason, Brett, and Brad, Leaving me and Harry. He sits opposite me filling out the health questionnaire and treatment options we allhave to fill in before we go through. I’ve opted for a facial and scalp massage.

“You know…” he says suggestively, not looking up from his clipboard, “we could skip the treatments and we could go upstairs, grab a bottle of oil, and have our own massage time.” He looks up and gives me a wink, while I just stare back at him with an emotionless expression.

“I'd rather rake myself over hot coals and then dance on broken glass,” I mumble from behind the treatment brochure I’m pretending to read.

“Your loss, and may I suggest you ask if they can remove the stick out of your ass, you’ve been a grump all afternoon.” He’s right, I have been. I’ve not been able to shake the panicky feeling fully since the incident with Brett, but Harry wouldn’t know that. I’ve got very good at hiding it over the years and masked it as me just being, well, a moody bitch, but if that’s what I need to do to protect myself, then that’s the role I’ll play.

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