Page 173 of The Hookup Situation
“Yes,” he says. Then his expression softens. “Look, I know it’s invasive, but Brody cares about protecting your life. He said that he owed it to my sister to make sure we were okay. I can’t refuse that.”
I tuck my legs under me on the couch, hugging a pillow. “I’m just not used to this. I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and suddenly, I need a bodyguard to watch me.”
Nick slides closer, prying the pillow from my arms and replacing it with his chest. “Just for a little while longer, I promise.”
For the first time all day, I somewhat relax. I want to argue, to roll my eyes, but a part of me exhales at the thought of someone else watching the shadows when I can’t. With Nick’s arms around me and Brody keeping watch, the panic moves to a simmer instead of a rolling boil.
“Everything will be okay,” I say, closing my eyes, wanting to believe it.
Nick doesn’t move right away. His chin rests on the top of my head, his hand tracing idle circles down my arm like he’s trying to draw calm into me. For a while, I let myself just sit there, eyes closed, pretending the world outside this couch doesn’t exist.
It hardly works.
I can still feel the stares in the costume shop and how those men looked at me like I was public property. My body shivers before I can stop it.
Nick notices. “Cold?”
“Haunted,” I admit, pulling back enough to look at him. “Faces and comments are burned into my mind. I can’t quite shake it.”
His jaw tightens. “Then we burn new ones in there. Better ones.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Examples?”
“The Fairy Godmothers caring enough to bring you casseroles galore. Or how Blaire adores you so much she’s hexing Craig at this very moment. Or maybe you should think about how my face lights up every time you walk into a room.”
“The last one’s the best.”
“Good,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s just for you.”
The tension in my chest eases a little more. He doesn’t minimize how I feel, but he doesn’t let me drown in it either.
“I don’t know how you do that,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Make me feel like I’m not an embarrassment.”
He cups my cheek, thumb brushing along my skin. His gaze is unwavering and fierce. “You’re not. You’re just a little bruised,pissed, and exhausted. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be all of those things.”
“I am. I’m being sexualized. I hate it.” Something inside me cracks, and I tuck myself into him, pressing my face against his chest.
“I hate it too.” His voice drops to a low roughness. It vibrates against my skin. His eyes sweep down my body, sharp and unyielding. “I don’t want anyone looking at you, sweetheart. Not like that. Not ever.” His jaw tightens.
With a certainty that makes my pulse skip, he adds, “You’re mine.”
The words should scare me, but they don’t. They ground me. They burn away the shame and replace it with something hotter. Because when Nick says I’m his, it’s not possession; it’s protection.
My breath catches. My body melts into him.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
His mouth hovers by my ear, his hand gripping my hip like he’s already branded me. “Mine.”
Heat pools low in my stomach. I move closer, my thighs brushing his, my body alive with want.
“Does that please you?” he asks.
“Yes, very much,” I admit. The confession releases before I can stop it.
