Page 163 of Screwged for Christmas

I honestly can’t make this shit up.

On top of that, I actually have a job that involved women in bikinis for once in my life and I feel nothing. Not even a twinge of pleasure. Maybe a few years back, sure, but all I want to do right now is get in, get out and get back to work.

These women looked almost molded from plastic with their over-enhanced breasts bouncing behind the tiny scraps of fabric meant to draw attention rather than cover anything. I could pick out nose jobs, tummy tucks, and hair extensions as I walked the rows of poolside lounge chairs.

Tough to imagine one of these plastic women belonged to Davidson.

As the thought hit, I caught sight of a pretty brunette off to the side enjoying a heater all to herself. Like she set herself apart from the group as some princess.

She faced me, sunglasses in place, long legs stretched out in front.

I took my shades off for another once-over, making sure the winter beauty wasn’t a snowy mirage.

My eyes dripped over every bare patch of skin on her body and being honest, she didn’t leave much of anything to the imagination with that scrap of red cloth. Her father would keel over from an instant heart attack if he saw his little girl like this.

There was nothing fake about this girl. From the long waves of her glossy brunette hair that cascaded over her full, natural tits to the gentle curve of her belly to the long, strong legs that looked like they could wrap around a man and hold on tight while he buried himself deep inside her.

Everything screamed one hundred percent real. My heart raced a little faster, pumping fire through my veins until my cock swelled.

I held back and watched, curious as to how she’ll handle the attention her solo show has garnered from a few assholes edging closer to her—arrogant smirks on their faces.

Her pert little nose wrinkled as she listened to the guys circled in front of her. Years of drilled-in training to protect and serve flared to life hot and fast as I watched those assholes all but posing for her, each working to capture her attention.

Not that I blamed them. She looked like a fucking queen next to a group of filthy peasants compared to the other women lounging around her. Of course, all those frat boys would flock to her. My eyes raked over the sweet dips and tender curves again. She held my gaze for far too long. Only years of discipline finally shook me back to reality. She wasn’t my mission.

Shit.

I still needed to find Evie Davidson. Ignoring my hungry dick, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the grainy picture and blinked.

Holy shit.

I hadn’t given the picture more than a cursory glance earlier. I’d taken in the details that would help me identify her but as I stared at it now, I realized the picture had failed to capture the reality of her beauty in the flesh. The woman I’d been lusting after, along with all those other assholes, was none other than Evie Davidson.

Fuck me.

But as I watched, it wasn’t just my dick that was standing up and taking notice. A sixth sense that has kept me out of a coffin for longer than I deserved kicked into overdrive when I caught an exchange between five of the guys standing around her.

They broke off from the rest, huddled up and then all nod like they have a plan in place.

My hackles raised.

Their body language slowly shifted as they talked, going from casual to something tenser, more menacing.

I wind my way through the growing crowd, as the older guys sent the other frat assholes scurrying to refill drinks or flirt with one of the plastic girls with a jerk of their chins.

These guys were obviously used to having their orders followed. My guess, they all had rich daddies who bought their way out of trouble on the regular.

My gaze shifted back to Evie. I saw the ice princess's expression change as her gaze followed the guys walking away only to come back and focus on the five guys.

Her expression went from indulgent, maybe a little bored, to something else in a heartbeat.

Perceptive.

Her berry red lips parted, as she pushed up her sunglasses to rest atop her head. From here I witnessed the brown of her eyes darken with fear. She knew these guys meant her harm, and for an instant, her gaze frantically chased the guys walking away. Her gaze darted around the atrium, obviously seeking someone who would help her when these shitheads made their move.

And for a brief second she noticed me. Our gazes locked, but she failed to recognize the real threat and it wasn’t a group of ballers thinking they were all hot shit.

A few partygoers sent nervous glances her way, but then immediately turned their backs. Every last one of them continued with their drinking and flirting, oblivious, or pretending to be oblivious, to the action on the other end of the pool.

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