Page 53 of Some Like 'Em Burly
Peter bristles, an ugly flush climbing his throat above his shirt collar. See, he was already pissed off that I didn’t notice him lurking—that he had to clear his throat to get my attention. He doesn’t like that; doesn’t want me to forget my fear, not even for a moment. It lessens his power over me.
And Peter is all about power—but not Axel’s graceful, contained type of power. No, this asshole just wants to control people. He probably pulled the wings off butterflies as a kid.
“Who’s the guy?” Peter tugs at his shirt cuffs.“Not your usual type.”
Anger fists in my gut, and I tilt my head, holding his gaze. “You have no idea about my type, Peter. You just know it’s not you.”
And I’d never be this bold, never rile this complete psychopath like this, except I’ve seen something Peter hasn’t: a tall, bearded biker storming through the crowd toward us, wearing a scowl that promises violence.
My heart rate settles, and even when Peter’s jaw clenches with anger, I smile up at him sweetly.
“Slut,” he spits out. “To move on so fast, and to gutter trash like that. You must truly be desperate—”
A scarred hand fists in the back of Peter’s collar, lifting him clean off the ground. I watch, thrilled, as Axel shakes my stalker like a naughty kitten, ignoring the hands batting at him like he can’t feel them at all.
“Fucking terrible manners,” Axel says, and he sounds almost cheerful. Like he’s enjoying this; like he’s been waiting for an excuse to get his blood pumping all day. “I should rip your tongue out. See if you can call the lady names then.”
Peter splutters, his face bright red as he swipes blindly behind him. He’s struggling, helpless, and vicious satisfaction fills me at the sight.
“Come on, then.” Axel jiggles Peter aloft with one hand, like the weight of a grown man is no trouble at all. “You get one free warning, then you’re done. Time for the two of us to have a chat outside.”
Peter stares at me, bug-eyed and legs kicking, as the two wheel around and plunge back into the knot of market-goers.People scramble out of Axel’s way so fast, they smack into tables and bounce off walls. I watch them go in a daze, blushing when people turn back and stare at me in amazement—like they can’t believe an ordinary girl like me could cause so much trouble.
I know how they feel. This whole situation is bananas.
When Axel comes back ten minutes later, he’s holding two pizza boxes and scowling worse than before. His expression clears when his eyes meet mine, the hardness of his features softening.
“Here.” Axel sets the pizza boxes on the edge of the table and moves to squeeze into the stall. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got one with everything and one plain. You can pick—”
I’m out of my chair before either of us realize, scrambling round the table and flinging myself into my bodyguard’s arms. He catches me easily, holding me aloft against his broad chest, so much gentler than the way he held Peter, and the rumble of his surprised laughter vibrates all the way down to my bones.
“Thank you,” I babble, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Axel’s short beard tickles my cheek, and I can’t believe I’m doing this, can’t believe Peter is finally gone, can’t believe that pizza is for me. I’m so freakinghungry. “Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you. You’re the best man I ever met.”
A chin nudges my temple, and Axel’s big arms hold me close. “It’s a pizza, Jem, not the Holy Grail.”
I snort against his shoulder. “Might as well be.”
And that’s his cue to set me down, for both us to clear our throats and laugh this off, but Axel doesn’t. He holds me for a few heartbeats longer, our bodies pressed together, our lungs sharing the same air.
People are staring, but I don’t care. My cheeks are bright red, but I don’t care. This is where I want to spend the rest of my days: cradled in the safety of Axel’s arms, with a low, needy throb pulsing between my thighs.
God. Puffing out a sigh, I squirm even closer, relishing the hardness of his body, trying to imagine how it would feel pressing me into a mattress. How I could throw my whole strength against him and never worry about being too much.
“So,” Axel says, and he sounds strained. He sets me down carefully then takes an exaggerated step back, putting some space between our bodies. “Plain or everything pizza? Better pick before it gets cold.”
“Half and half,” I say, shuffling back behind the stall on wobbly legs. “Everybody wins.”
My bodyguard follows, his heat and strength at my back, and I collapse into my seat with jelly legs.
These twenty-four hours are going to ruin me.
Axel
The market hall closes abruptly, like a cupboard snapping closed. One minute, the walls shake with echoed laughter and the breaths and body heat of the crowd rises up and forms condensation on the glass ceiling high above. The next, metal grates rattle down in front of the stalls, and sellers wrap scarves around their necks and shrug on jackets, officially done for the day. People spill out into the dark street, wincing at the misty rain.
“Where now?” It’s easy to keep close to Jem’s side as she walks—even easier than my job is normally. It’s like there’s an invisible tether tying me to her, so anytime she gets even an inch too far away, a sharp pang shoots through my gut. “Got any big Friday night plans?”
Beside me on the sidewalk, Jem scoffs and rolls her eyes. She’s so small next to me, so birdlike and fragile, that my chest burns whenever I let myself think about her being scared by that asshole earlier.
