Page 83 of The Jellybean Dilemma

Staring at him, I let my awe show. “That was some pretty hot hero shit you pulled in there. A one-punch knockout. Where the hell did that come from?”

A small smile tilted up one corner of his mouth. “I’ve done some amateur boxing on and off since high school. That’s how I keep in shape and let off steam.” He sobered. “When I saw his hand on your throat, Rhonda, I lost it. I could’ve killed him.” His mouth tightened as he swallowed. “I hope that doesn’t change your opinion of me.”

Needing to lighten the mood, for both our sakes, I said, “Actually, it does.”

Disappointment and hurt appeared as his face fell.

“I didn’t think you could get any hotter, but damn, Greg,” I teased, even managing a real smile, “you might have just turned me into a boxing fan.”

Sirens sounded, and Derek texted us that both the police and EMTs were here.

“You really should get checked out,” Greg said.

I was loath to leave the secure space of his embrace, but I knew he was right. I clung to his arm as we walked through the bar and outside. As an EMT checked me over, an officer took my statement. Greg refused to leave my side. Once the officer was done with her questions for both me and Greg, the EMT stepped back.

He gave us his findings. “No sign of a concussion. Your cheek is already starting to bruise, and you have a small lump on the back of your head, so you’ll want to be careful with that. Ice it, take an anti-inflammatory. You might also have some bruising on your throat.”

I nodded, grateful it wasn’t worse.

“The other thing we recommend after events like this is counseling. It can be a huge help.” He extended a business card, and Greg took it. “There’s a website and a hotline on here. They can find you someone who will fit your needs.” He and Greg exchanged a look before Greg thanked him. “Otherwise, you’re free to go.”

Another EMT wheeled Kevin by on a stretcher, one of his hands cuffed to the metal bar. Kevin’s glare fixed on me as they steered him through the room. I shuddered, burying my face in Greg’s chest.

Greg asked a nearby officer, “What’s going to happen to him?”

The officer smirked. “No need to worry, sir. Between this lady’s previous pending lawsuit and the current assault charges, he’ll be locked up for a long time. Plus, there was another incident involving him earlier today, filed by his girlfriend of all people.”

A weight lifted off my chest, and I sagged against Greg, ready to be away from the noise and curious stares.

“You okay, Jellybean?”

I nodded. “Take me home, Greg.”

We made it to my house, the events of the evening pressing in on me. I walked in the door and went right to the couch, sinking into it.

Greg sat beside me, grabbing my hand. “Tell me what you need.”

But I didn’t know. I looked down at my outfit, realizing under my coat were the clothes that Kevin had touched, that Kevin had tried to rape me in and panic bubbled in me. My breath came in short bursts. “He touched these clothes. He touched me, Greg. I—” I felt disgusting.

“Rhonda.” He said my name calmly, tugging on my hand to ground me. I focused on him, on his touch. “Do you trust me?”

I nodded.

One hand reached up to brush the hair back from my cheek, and his focus lingered on the mark I knew was there. “Then let me take care of you.”

His words were enough to help me let go of the panic, and I surrendered myself to him. He knelt before me, picking up my right foot to undo one dainty buckle of my Jimmy Choo. His hands slid down my ankle, caressing me before setting my foot back on the floor. He did the same for the left.

Then he stood up, removing my coat first. His was next.

The mirror above the mantle showed my outfit in stark detail and the memory of Kevin’s hip pressing against me flashed in my mind. I shuddered. “Please, Greg. I don’t ever want to see these clothes again.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He kissed my forehead, following my gaze to the mirror, then he turned me so I could no longer see my reflection. “We’ll make sure of it.” He cupped my face with both his hands. “Eyes up here, Jellybean.”

I stared at his beautiful face, focusing only on him. His movements were swift, steadfast as he undressed me, moving my limbs like I was a doll.

He gave me a small smile. “Close your eyes.”

And I obeyed, trusting him implicitly as I stood there in my bra and underwear. I felt the air move as he brushed past me, then I heard the rustling of a bag. My mind kept wanting to think about what he was putting in the bag, picturing it, but I shoved the images aside, bringing Greg’s face back into focus.

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