Page 42 of Under Pressure

“I don’t see it.” He dropped his gaze to her waist, challenging her.

“I’m more conservative than you think,” she continued, holding her hand up to stop him. “I’ve been holding out for something a little more traditional.”

As she said it, he grew hungrier.

“When you say stuff like that, it only makes me more determined.” He watched the realization cross her face, and he added, “I’m a competitive guy. Really competitive.”

A hunter, he just couldn’t help himself, assessing her for weakness, like she was both his opponent and his prey. Stiffening her spine, she narrowed her eyes at him. Her demeanor had transformed to full-blown protective, which he regretted.

She warned, “It’s not a competition, and I’m not looking for a quick and casual thing.”

It’s not a competition? He raised his eyebrows, wondering if she had any idea how bad that made him want to win. The more he leaned forward, the more she leaned back, making him want it all that much more. The glaring issue—that she was relationship material and he wasn’t—seemed less important, becoming second to winning her by any means necessary. In Delta’s books, if the ends justified the means…

Unfortunately, his thoughts were cut off as they were swarmed by a couple of the guys, including Warren, putting the conversation on hold. As Delta and Kendra were absorbed into a bigger group, clinking beers and slapping hands on backs, shot glasses full of tequila were thrust into their hands. The group enjoyed a few more—maybe several more—pints before Delta pushed away to find the restroom. He didn’t like leaving Kendra with them, but he had to piss like a racehorse, and surely she’d stick around.

The excursion having taken longer than he would have liked, due to a small lineup, he found himself gazing left and right when he re-entered the bar, searching for her. Quickly, he realized that she wasn’t there anymore.

Fuck.

Where the fuck did she go? Who else left the bar? It was well past sunset and getting late into the evening. That protective tension crept up his chest at not seeing Hunter anymore either.

“You okay?” Warren asked cautiously as Delta approached.

Delta ran his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of what had happened. Heat rushed up the back of his neck and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“The antimalaria drugs getting to you this time?” Warren nudged his friend, trying to keep it light.

“I just started them.” Delta turned, looking out the patio where it connected to the beach. “The next rotation’s going to be a bitch.”

She has to be out there.

Without even so much as saying goodbye to his friend, Delta slipped outside. He quickly observed that she wasn’t on the patio, either. Glowering side to side, he couldn’t even see her on the stretch of beach. She was a grown-ass woman, but he didn’t like it. His uncontrollable intensity sprang forth. In a flash, he whipped down the patio steps, finding his way onto the deserted beach.

Maybe it was just his lack of trust in people or his driving need to ensure her safety, but he told himself that he had to make sure she was okay, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. His intentions were all altruistic. As he strode down the wide expanse of sand, trying to get eyes on any form resembling hers, he finally caught a glimpse of a woman slowly walking in the distance by the water—alone. That woman was definitely Kendra, based on the sway of her hips that he had memorized. Relieved to see her, he confirmed she was all right and not being stalked…by any other man.

“You shouldn’t be out here on your own,” Delta called out as he approached her, prepared to lecture.

Kendra spun, digging her heels in, twirling her blonde ponytail in her fingers as she watched him walk up to her. Something in her expression told him that she wasn’t taking him seriously. He could almost feel her rolling her eyes, even in the dark.

“I think I’ll be fine.” She turned with a shrug, returning to walking down the beach.

He caught up quickly, his long, strong legs outpacing her. The glittery waves crashed against the sand beside them as they walked together, illuminated by the big white moon overhead.

“Why’d you leave?” he challenged.

“I needed a bit of air,” she replied, nodding back to the bar, which was growing farther and farther away as they walked. “It can get a little intense, surrounded by so many of your type.”

“My type?” he questioned, full well knowing the answer.

“I think you know what I mean.”

“And I think you should listen to me when I say don’t walk on the beach, alone, at nearly midnight. It’s dark, it’s deserted and there’s a bar full of drunken guys who would love nothing more than—”

She cut in, stopping him. “Than what?” She dug her heels into the sand, folding her arms protectively like a shield over her chest.

He pivoted. “I don’t need to tell you.”

“And I don’t need to be babysat. I’m a big girl.”

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