Page 71 of Dirty Little Mistake

She swayed slightly, her words slurring. "Well, are you going to fix it?"

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration evident in every movement. "I don't know how. She won't listen to me or talk to me or even look at me."

She raised her shoulders. "Make her listen."

A humorless laugh escaped my lips. "You obviously don't know Cam."

"I know that she's really fucking hurt right now, and I know she does stupid fucking shit when she's hurt." My gaze flashed back to Cam, who was surrounded by guys on the beach. "And you can't let her do that."

Stopping Cam from making a stupid mistake and making her listen to me were two different things.

I didn't care if I had to sit on her. She wasn't leaving here with anyone but me. No matter how hard she fought, I wasn't letting her do something stupid because of me.

Syn reached up, brushing a strand of her black hair out of her face, and my gaze narrowed on a small bruise on her arm. "What happened?" Her brows pulled together, her lips twisting in confusion. "On your arm."

Her gaze dropped to the bruise. "Oh." She tugged at the sleeve of her fitted black shirt. "I'm not really sure. I must have bumped something tonight."

That was a lie. The bruise had already shifted to greenish yellow and looked a few days old, but I didn't have time for that conversation right now. We would come back to that later.

I nodded toward the pool deck where Harlow slept. "You should get Harlow up to bed before she rolls into the pool."

Syn's unsteady finger pointed at Owen's motionless form on the opposite side of the pool. "What about him?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "He'll be fine. He's a grown man, and he can get himself to bed." I couldn't have cared less about Owen at that moment.

A giggle bubbled up from her throat. "Okay."

One of the guys put his hand on Camryn's bare hip, and my jaw clenched. "I'm going to go deal with this."

I trudged down to the beach, my feet sinking into the cool, damp sand with each step. The sound of bass from a distant speaker vibrated through the ground, mixing with the laughter and chatter of the beach party. The air was thick with the scent of coconut sunscreen, spilled beer, and salty ocean air.

My pace quickened as Cam climbed onto a rickety plastic beach chair, its legs sinking unevenly into the sand. Her silhouette swayed against the starlit sky, her hips moving sinuously to the beat.

"Fuck yeah," one of the guys yelled, and my lip curled into a snarl as he reached out for the string holding the top of her orange bikini together.

My arm lashed out, a cobra striking its prey. His fingers barely grazed the string before my palm connected with his chest, the impact sending shockwaves up my arm. He toppled backward, arms pinwheeling, before landing with a muffled thud on the damp sand.

"What the..." he shouted.

Ignoring him, my arm hooked around Cam's thighs just before I tossed her over my shoulder.

I adjusted her weight on my shoulder. "Hey, Cam."

Cam's voice rang out, raw and ragged, each word punctuated by a blow against my back. "Fuck. Off. Trystan!" Her body writhed against my shoulder, a tornado of flailing limbs and flying hair. "Put. Me. Down!" The last word dissolved into a frustrated growl that vibrated through our bodies.

"What the fuck?" one of the other guys growled. "She was dancing for us."

I stopped, whipping around. "You have two options right now," I hissed. "Go the fuck home, or I'm going to remove your teeth from your mouth."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Whatever man, no pussy is worth this."

Cam's body tensed against mine, her voice rising to a shout. "What the fuck? My pussy..."

"Shut up, Cam," I cut her off.

She pounded her fists against my back again as I twisted around and stormed toward the house. "Eat shit, Trystan!"

I shouldered open the back door, the sudden quiet of the house a stark contrast to the loud beach party. My footsteps echoed through the kitchen, the tile cool against my sand-covered feet. Empty bottles and discarded cups littered the countertops.

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