Page 23 of Drawn to You
I open my mouth, astonished. Shit. I didn’t know he called. I check my phone quickly. There is a missed call. He must’ve called when I was in the bar. “I… err… went out for a drink with the guys.”
“Guys? Who?”
“Darrell and Mason.”
“Mason?” He narrows his eyes at me, and I shiver.
I nod. “He took us to Almost Famous, a bar on Hollywood.” I resist the urge to tell him about the song the singer wrote for me, afraid it would madden him more.
“Are you old enough to drink?”
I glare at him. “I’m twenty-two. But I didn’t even drink alcohol. I had a Coke, that’s all.”
“Good,” he says. “Have you eaten?”
“Not really.” I notice the dinner on the table—Salmon steak he said he would make. It looks good, even though it’s probably cold. “Looks yummy! I’ll just go wash my hands.”
I turn toward my bedroom, but he grabs me and pulls me to him. “You’ve got to ask for my permission next time you go out with guys, understand?” he commands in a low, gruff voice that sends shivers down my spine.
Chapter 10
Andrew
Ever since Labor Day, I haven’t been acting like a normal man. Yes, I rejected Britt, but it doesn’t mean I’m able to ignore her. In fact, I’ve watched every move she made in the gym. Thank God I changed our work schedules. Otherwise, I would become insanely obsessed with her. Even when I’m away from her, I still keep wondering what the hell she’s doing.
She’s started apartment-hunting, and that’s another good thing. Once she’s out of my house, I can probably return to normalcy. Because she’s around, I can’t even bring women home—not that I have anyone particular in mind.
I baked a salmon steak for us, finished half, and left half for her. She was supposed to be home at around seven-thirty, but it’s already nine. The show I’m watching is over without me getting much out of it. Shit. Is she apartment hunting again? At this time?
I reach for my phone again and dial her number. I called her once already, but she didn’t answer. Is she mad at me? Ever since our moment in the Jacuzzi, she’s mad at me.
A light flashes on the driveway. I cancel the call and jump out of my seat. She’s home.
I open the front door for her before she even approaches it.
She looks so lovely. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s humming a tune when she walks toward me.
“Hi, Andrew!”
Damn. All I want is to pull her to me and kiss her until I’m out of breath, but instead, I growl.
“Where the hell have you been?”
A string of savage words just fly out of my mouth before I know it.
She looks shocked by my manner, but she obediently tells me her whereabouts. Mason Meyer. Fuck. What the hell does he want from her?
“You’ve got to ask my for permission next time you go out with guys, understand? I know I don’t have the right to demand it, but I can’t help it. I’ve got to protect her. Brittney is my little lamb, and Mason is a wolf.
She shivers at first, and then a rebellious look masks her face. “What? Do I need your permission to socialize? Why?”
“Because… you are my houseguest and my employee. I’m responsible for your well-being,” I insist, knowing it sounds lame.
“That’s absurd,” she says, trembling a bit but keeping her chin high. “You’re my host and my boss, but you don’t own me.”
I curse. She’s right. I don’t own her. Hell. It’s everything that’s on my mind lately. Owning her. Owning this fiery girl with red hair and green eyes. Owning her little tight pussy. She looks so vulnerable sometimes, and yet she’s rebellious. She knows what she wants. She wants me. And that’s what scares me. If I give her what she wants, will I really own her, or will it be the other way?
As I’m still glaring at her, she struggles out of my grasp and heads toward her bedroom.
