All the Pretty Poses (Pretty #2)(37)
Author: M. Leighton

I scoot up into a sitting position, giving him what I hope is a frosty smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine. I’m careful. Very careful,” I say, emphasizing my last words in case my uninterested smile didn’t give him the message.

“Reese always keeps the good ones to himself. Why is that?”

I don’t know how to answer that. The only thing I can think of is that I might die if he touches me again. There’s nothing overtly bothersome about him. I mean he’s not ugly with his dark-blond hair and almond-shaped, green eyes, but there is something about him that makes my skin crawl.

Everything that happens next happens so fast, I struggle to take it all in. Nathan is there, sitting next to me one minute and the next minute he’s gone. In one quick jerk, Reese grabs him by the back of his shirt, hauls him up and flings him away, sending him careening into two empty chairs as he tries to right himself.

Nathan’s expression is comical as his arms flail and he sputters, “What the hell, man?”

Reese’s face is positively thunderous. His lips are thin and tight, his fingers are curled into big fists and every muscle in his tall, lean body is stiff as a board. “I told you she’s my guest.”

“I thought it was the girl’s choice. Isn’t that what you’ve always said? Isn’t that your ‘policy’?” he asks snidely, making air quotes.

“It is my policy, except with her. She’s mine. You don’t touch her, you don’t speak to her. You don’t even look at her. You stay the hell away or I’ll throw your ass into the middle of the pacific and you can swim to Fiji.”

Nathan’s face blazes bright red as he straightens his shirt and tries to regain some of his scattered composure. “That’s all you had to say, Spencer. Jesus.”

Casting a nasty look over his shoulder, first at Reese then at me, Nathan makes his way off the sundeck and then off the upper deck entirely. I assume he’s on his way to his room where he can lick his wounds in private.

Reese looks around at all the eyes fastened on him before he reaches for my hand. Without hesitation, I slip my fingers into his and he pulls me to my feet. His eyes are nearly black with anger and desire and something primitively possessive as he looks down at me.

“Did I mention that you’re off the clock today?” he asks.

“Yes,” I breathe cautiously.

“Good.” With that, he bends his head and gives me a kiss that curls my toes and sears me all the way to my soul. When he’s done, he lifts his head, winks at me, brushes his lips over mine again and then turns to our cluster of onlookers. “Any questions?” he asks loudly.

Heads shake all over the deck. Some of the men raise their hands in the universal hands-off gesture. Others simply look away like they don’t want to rouse his ire again.

I know I should be insulted. I’ve just been publicly claimed. But I’m not. It’s obvious that Reese has never claimed another girl, at least not like this, and it gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, he really does have feelings for me.

“Come on,” Reese says, taking my hand. “I’ll get Arnold, the captain, to stop us for a couple of hours so we can ride the jet skis.”

And, just like that, it’s over. He’s back to Reese. Calm Reese. Charming Reese. Like nothing ever happened.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, in a dream-like state of pure happiness. Reese takes me jet skiing out in the pacific. He teases and flirts with me, stopping regularly to pull my vehicle in close enough to his that he can kiss me. And not just light pecks, but real kisses, kisses that leave me breathless and wanting.

When dinner rolls around, he’s even his charming self around his clients, the clients whom he has blatantly ignored for the majority of the day. It puts me at ease, but I can tell that Nathan is still sore. I can see it in the dirty looks he keeps giving Reese when Reese isn’t paying attention. Otherwise, he seems to have moved on. He requested the company of a beautiful platinum-haired server to whom I have yet to be formally introduced. He turns on the charm for her, just as the rest of the men turn on the charm for their chosen company, leaving me to revel in the way that Reese seems to need to touch me all the time.

Every few minutes, whether he’s talking to someone else or drinking his wine and listening, he will brush my hand or touch my hair or bump my leg with his under the table. And every time I look at him, no matter what he’s doing, he’ll glance in my direction. Sometimes he winks, sometimes he smiles and sometimes he just watches me in a way that makes my heart soften like cream cheese on a hot stove.

All in all, it’s been one of the best days I’ve had in a long time, despite the questionable run-in with Nathan. Our easy rapport has made me anticipate my dance tonight even more. I hope he’s pleased that I remember something so small from so long ago.

When he drops me off at my room to get ready, he wraps his long fingers around my neck, pushing my hair back over my shoulders before he bends to kiss my pulse. When I feel his tongue sneak out to flicker over it, my arms break out in chills.

“I want you so much I can barely think straight,” he moans against my skin. “Remember that when you dance tonight. Remember that you’re dancing for me. And no one else.”

“Yes,” I manage to croak, digging my fingers into his thick biceps to keep from dragging him into my room. “And you remember that this dance is specifically for you. Just…remember.”

Reese lifts his head, a question burning in his eyes. I smile pluckily, reach around to swat him on the butt and then turn to go into my room. It isn’t until my door is closed and I’m leaning against it that I hear his long exhalation. I grin with the knowledge that he’s suffering every bit as much as I am. But maybe not much longer. Maybe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – Reese

I have to make myself sit through the first hour of carefully orchestrated performances. I’m not interested in seeing, hearing or participating in anything that doesn’t involve Kennedy.

It’s my own fault that she goes on last. Part of that is because I had Karesh add her at the last minute. I know she wants to feel like an employee and I know she loves to dance. But I hate, and I mean hate with a passion that rivals my passion for her, the thought of anyone else having their eyes on her as she dances. It sets my teeth on edge just thinking of how uncomfortable those four minutes will be. But it’s for her. If I can just keep that in mind…