Page 35 of Damaged Protector
My black eyebrows lifted. It usually bothered me when people talked during a movie, but for some reason, her occasional chatter didn’t bug me.
“I knew he designed the fight scenes, but I didn’t know about the money.” I gestured to her untouched beer still sitting on the coffee table. “I got you another drink. Even opened it for your pansy ass.” My tone was teasing, and she rolled her eyes.
“Sorry I don’t have big, gross man hands,” she shot back, twinkling her dainty, unmanicured fingers at me.
I bumped her with my shoulder. “Gross? Woman, I’m not going to take this abuse much longer,” I growled but she simply grinned, a cheeky smile that curled playfully across her light-pink lips.
“Would you hush? I’m trying to watch this movie.”
“You started it,” I retorted, and she placed her fingertips against my cheek to turn my face back toward the screen, hissing a quiet shush at me.
My shoulders shook with laughter at her audacity. We watched in silence for another few minutes, eating popcorn and drinking our beers. Mal tilted her bottle in my direction.
“You want the rest of this? I already had daiquiris at the mall, then the other beer earlier, and I’m feeling a little tipsy.” Her button nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to throw up.”
“That happen a lot?”
“Not since my twenty-first birthday. That was the first time I’d ever drank, and I… overindulged.”
My eyebrows almost shot off the top of my forehead. “You’re telling me you never drank before you turned twenty-one?”
Her mouth twisted to the side. “I was a big rule follower,” she explained.
Draining the rest of my beer, I set it on the table and reached for hers. “I’ll finish it.”
“Wait! Let me wipe it off.”
Before she could, I pulled it from her grasp and brought the cool neck of the bottle to my lips, my eyes intent on hers as I guzzled the remaining bubbly liquid. I tried not to think about my lips resting exactly where hers had been a few seconds earlier.
“Not worried about it. Unless you’ve got cooties or something.”
“I might,” she said smartly. “And now you’re completely infected.”
“I have a good immune system,” I replied.
“Fine,” she sighed, “but don’t expect me to take care of you when you’ve got giant boils on your lips, Tater Tot.”
“Stop calling me that,” I grunted, trying to hide my amusement.
Fifteen minutes later, I felt silky hair against my shoulder and looked down to find Mallori snoozing. Her long lashes rested against the curve of her cheek, and her lips were slightly parted. She looked like a delicate, blonde angel.
Which is why you need to maintain your distance, man.
As soon as that thought entered my mind, she wiggled and then slid downward until her cheek rested on my thick thigh. Curling her body into a ball, she nuzzled for a few seconds before stilling.
My hands hovered in mid-air, unsure where to land. Her tiny denim shorts rode up, and my eyeballs immediately found the roundness of the cheek peeking out from beneath. Finally, I pulled the dark-gray fleece blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her from the waist down.
Out of sight, out of mind, I told myself, turning my focus back to the movie.
As the final credits rolled, I looked down to find my hand resting on Mallori’s bare shoulder, my thumb soothing a tiny freckle on the top. How the fuck did my hand end up there?
She was sleeping soundly, so I slid from beneath her and stood, looking down and wondering if I should leave her on the couch for the night.
I pushed out a sigh and wedged my arms beneath her slight frame, lifting her easily. She turned her face into my bicep, her gentle breaths like a feather against my skin.
Carrying her to her room, I pulled back the covers and placed her carefully on the bed. She was still wearing her denim shorts, and her hot-pink tank top popped against the crisp, royal-blue of the sheets.
“Mal,” I whispered, giving her warm shoulder a shake.