Page 72 of All For You Duet

“We’re okay. Just breathe,” I whisper into his chest. I can feel his heart pounding under my cheek. “Don’t let him ruin us again.”

Redix kisses the top of my head. “I’m really trying.”

We don’t say another word in the minutes it’s taking the valet to fetch the car. I just close my eyes and wrap my hands around his waist, squeezing him tight while he holds me back. I wish the world would disappear, but at least we have each other.

Click. Click.

My eyes snap open.

What the fuck?

A dumbass with a fancy Nikon is ten feet away, taking our picture.

“Hey!” I shout.

“Ignore him, Cade,” Redix mutters.

The valet pulls the car between us and the photographer, still snapping pictures. But If there’s a threat to Redix? Yep, I snap too.

My long legs in these heels move fast. I can’t be stopped. Before he knows what’s happening, I grab the photographer by the back of his neck and slam him down on the car’s hood. Snagging his free wrist, I wrench it behind him, bending back two strategic fingers that make him cry out while I snarl.

“Say ‘cheese,’ Motherfucker.”

“Cade!” I hear Redix as fast as I feel his arms around my waist. “Cade! Stop!” He tries pulling me off him.

“Take another picture”—I force the photographer’s fingers back more, making him scream—“and it’ll be the last you take.”

But Redix is too strong, and my sanity returns. I let the guy go, leaving him sprawled on the hood of the Mercedes.

“Damn, woman.” Redix is laughing, lifting me off the ground and pulling me farther away. “Get in the car before you get arrested.”

I don’t give a shit. Like anyone on this island would arrest me.

The photographer scrambles away, caressing his camera like that’s all he cares about, relieved I didn’t break it instead. The valets clap for my performance while I drop into the passenger seat. I try calming my pulse while Redix keeps chuckling.

“You can’t keep doing that, Candy Cade. Best control your cute temper. You’re dating me, and that’s part of it.”

Dating?

It makes me laugh too.

“So, in three hours, we went from a date to dating?”

“Yeah.” He aims the car toward my place. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

“No.” I cross my legs. That catches his eyes again. “You have to ask me first. Did you get the memo? Telling me what to do will get your fingers broken.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Bad Together by Dua Lipa

I’m curious.

By the wrapped gift box Redix takes from his trunk. By what he’s revealed tonight. I’ve always known, under all his cocky swagger, Redix is a man who cares too much.

But I never knew he could be that kinky too.

I don’t know what to think. Am I worried that he has no boundaries when drunk? Or am I excited to see if he’s the same sober?

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