Chapter 20
KYLE
One moment, I was leaving the bar and the next, my fist was colliding with his face before he even had time to react.
The sickening crunch of bone against bone echoed in my ears, followed by his sharp grunt of pain. He staggered back, clutching his nose, blood already sceping between his fingers.
The music never stopped, but the space around us had gone eerily silent. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some people froze in shock, while others instinctively backed away.
The bastard lifted his head, his dazed expression shifting into rage. “What the fuck, man?‘ he slurred, wobbling slightly on his feet.
I stepped closer, my hands flexing at my sides, the urge to hit him again burning under my skin. “I told you to keep your hands off her, I said, voice steady, deadly.
His eyes flicked to Ashley, who was still frozen, her breath unsteady. She looked shaken, her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to disappear. That sight alone made my blood boil hotter.
J’I was just having fun, the guy spat, shaking off the pain like he thought he could still challenge me.
His mistake.
I lunged.
He barely had time to raise his arms before I grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. His head snapped back against the surface with a dull thud.
“You think that was fun?” I ground out, my face inches from his. “You like putting your hands on women who don’t want you to?”
He stammered something, but I didn’t care to hear it..
“Let me make this real fucking clear,” I continued, my grip tightening. “You ever touch her–like that again, and I will personally make sure you regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”
The guy swallowed hard, his drunken bravado draining from his face. He nodded quickly, his breath coming out in ragged pants.
“Kyle,” a soft voice cut through the haze of my anger.
Ashley
I turned my head slightly, my grip still firm on the guy’s shirt. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling slightly
“Let him go,” she whispered. “He’s not worth it.”
I could have kept going. I wanted to. The image of his hands on her replayed in my mind like a slow–burning fuse, fueling the rage that coiled in my chest. The bastard deserved worse.
But Ashley’s voice cut through the haze, anchoring me just enough.
I held the guy’s gaze for another second, letting the warning sink in, before shoving him back with enough force to send him stumbling. He didn’t fight it this time. Just backed away, head low, disappearing into the murmuring crowd.
Exhaling sharply, I rolled my shoulders, shaking off the adrenaline still coursing through me.
When I turned back, Ashley was still watching me, her expression unreadable.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice softer now, though the anger still simmered beneath it.
She nodded stiffly, but I wasn’t convinced. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Come on,” I said, gentler this time. “Let’s get out of here.”
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to some group of girls. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t protest when I placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. My fists were still clenched, my body still tense, but there was something else beneath it–something I hadn’t felt in two
years.
1/3
Chapter 20
Protectiveness.
The moment we stepped outside, Ashley took a shaky breath and gently pushed my hand away. My chest tightened at the sudden loss of contact.
“Thank you, she muttered, her voice unsteady. “I should probably leave now.”
“No.” I said firmly. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t let you go alone. I’ll drive you home.”
She hesitated, searching my face as if debating whether to argue. Then, finally, she nodded.
I led her to my car, unlocking it and holding the door open. She slid in without a word, probably too shaken to protest.
The ride was thick with silence, the only sound the soft hum of the engine.
Tonight had been a mistake. I wasn’t supposed to be there. The bar was my usual spot, but the moment I saw the crowd partying, I was ready to leave–until 1 caught sight of her. Ashley, standing out in a sea of strangers, dressed in red. And then him. That miserable bastard putting his hands on her like he had a right.
My grip tightened on the wheel, my knuckles turning white as the memory resurfaced.
flicked a glance toward Ashley.
She was asleep.
Her head rested lightly against the window, her breathing soft and even. Her lips were slightly parted, her body slack with exhaustion. The tension she had carried all night had melted away, leaving her looking peaceful, fragile in a way I wasn’t used to seeing.
By the time we reached her apartment, I pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. For a moment, I just sat there, watching her, unwilling to wake her up when she finally looked at peace.
With a quiet sigh, I stepped out of the car and walked over to her side. Gently, I slippedmy arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly into my arms. She was warm against me, her head lolling slightly until it rested against my chest. The faintest sigh escaped her lips, and my hold instinctively tightened.
She was light, delicate. Too damn delicate.
I carried her inside, shifting her slightly so I could reach into her purse. My fingers brushed against her keys, and I fished them out, unlocking the door as quietly as possible. The place was small but neat, filled with little details that were so distinctly her–the scent of vanilla in the air, the stack of books on the coffee table, the half–empty mug of tea on the counter.
Carefully, I walked her to the bedroom, pushing the door open with my foot.
The bed was unmade, the blankets rumpled from where she must have been lying earlier. I lowered her onto the mattress, pulling the covers over her.
She stirred slightly, her brows knitting together for a brief moment before her features relaxed once more.
I should have left then.
But I didn’t.
I lingered.
Too long.
My eyes traced over her–the soft curve of her cheek, the delicate slope of her nose, the way her dark lashes fanned against her skin and God, she was perfect.
My fingers twitched at my side, an ache blooming in my chest–the urge to reach out, to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, to let my touch linger just for a second. But I couldn’t.
I didn’t deserve that.
Not, anymore.
Exhaling slowly, I rubbed a hand down my face, forcing myself to take a step back.
I took one last glance at her and made to leave but suddenly stopped
