Page 32 of Dear Mr. Hunk: A Steamy Standalone Instalove

“Think you’re better than me, do you?” the man grumbles. “If you knew what I’d been through—”

“Save the sob story,” Bennet snarls. “I can guarantee you I’ve seen worse. You asked the lady for some money. She said no. And now you’re harassing her. So leave.”

The men bristle, standing up straighter. Larry’s hand keeps shifting in his pocket.

“Bennet…”

“I know.” Bennet raises his hand. “Don’t worry, if that man is foolish enough to pull a weapon on me, I’ll be well within my rights to defend us. So what’s it going to be, fellas? Do you really want to do this?”

Bennet speaks in a completely calm manner, but there is a tick in his jaw and his fists are clenched at his sides.

It’s clear he’s ready to fight all four of these men if that’s what it takes.

But then the speaker for the group turns away, shaking his head. “Come on, boys. We’ll try down at the coffee shop.”

Bennet watches them go, his expression cold and unforgiving. Once they’re out of sight, he spins on me, placing his hand on my shoulder, leaning in close.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I draw in a shaky breath. “I feel so bad for them. I mean, they were clearly desperate for money.”

“I know. And I love that your first instinct is sympathy. But those men would’ve robbed you blind if you’d taken them to the ATM.”

“I’m just glad you were there.”

“I’ll always protect you,” he growls, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can wait outside if you want.”

“I’ll be on campus until four, so I’ll be fine. But are we still good for later?”

He steps closer like he might lean down. But then he remembers where we are and takes a quick step back.

It pains me, a feeling of betrayal slamming into me, even if the real betrayal would be us kissing in public and risking dad finding out before we have a chance to tell him.

“I’ll be here. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” I promise. “See you later.”

I walk into campus, feeling Bennet’s eyes on me, protective and possessive like he’ll always be.

I wouldn’t have him any other way.

Chapter Eighteen

Bennet

I spend the morning at the gym and then head into the office to get some paperwork done. But all the while my thoughts are on Lorelei and the fury that filled me when those men tried to intimidate her.

Of course, my woman’s first response was to feel sorry for them. And I get that. I don’t privately donate a large portion of my salary to charity for nothing.

But no matter what happens to a man, he never has a right to make a woman feel threatened, small like he can do or say anything to her without punishment.

Part of me was itching for those bastards to throw the first punch, just so I could show them what happened when a man threatens my lady.

I drive toward the campus, arriving at three-fifty, ten minutes early to pick Lorelei up, my Rory. My body stirs, the same way it has ever since the cabin, when I got a taste of her, and even more irrepressible hunger was ignited inside of me.

We can’t do anything until Rick knows. And yet I’m not sure I can fight this much longer.

My rod becomes rock hard just thinking about her, my whole being aimed at claiming the hot perfect woman.

I watch the campus doors, students walking in and out until finally, she appears.

Stepping out of the car, my lips twitch when I see her mouth spread in a wide smile, her cheeks glowing.

I step forward, taking her bag. “Why are you so happy?”

“I was top of the class for my last assignment,” she beams. “I was sure I’d messed the essay up, but the professor even asked if she could use it as an example for next semester.”

“That’s amazing.” I pull her into a hug, softly lowering her bag to the ground. “Really, really amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

She grips onto my arms, leaning back, knowing I’ll always support her. “Thank you, Bennet. As soon as it happened, you were the first person I wanted to tell. Not Yasmin. Not mom or dad. You. I think that says something.”

I smirk as I lean in close. “I think that says you’re just a little bit smitten.”

She giggles delightedly. “Smitten? That’s hardly the word I’d use.”

“No, what would you use, then?”

Our lips are almost touching, as though we have no choice in the matter. Resisting her is impossible, especially when she’s so sparked up with enthusiasm, passion emanating from her.

“Obsessed,” she whispers.

She moans as I kiss her hard, whimpering when I push forward and press her against the car. I know I should stop. I don’t want anyone else seeing my woman like this, but the fire inside of me won’t stop burning, flames flickering and teasing and telling me to claim her, claim her now.

---