Undeniable: Dom & Gigi (Beg For It 5)

She stepped to the side, slipping out of his grasp. Subtle, graceful, but I could read her body language. She didn’t want him. That’s my girl. I felt pleased, especially when I saw who was trying to paw her. I didn’t know his name—Brett, Brock, some kind of rich guy bullshit—but I did know I didn’t like the look of him. I’d already been warned to keep an eye on him. The guy was a few complaints shy of a police report. Hell, if he didn’t have the bank to buy himself out of trouble, I was sure he’d be in a jumpsuit already, probably in solitary for busting out a shiv on a C.O.

There, she did it again. Polite, sweet, she stepped away, putting some distance between the two of them. Heading right in my direction.

I took a step back, blending into the darkest shadows, but it was as if she alone saw me. She looked right up into my eyes with a shy smile, coming to stand by my side. Looking out the window, her dress fluttered slightly in the breeze. I caught a waft of her scent, like roses in spring.

“Are you keeping us safe tonight?” she asked in a low voice, as if it were just the two of us in on a big secret. I knew it must be how she always acted. She could probably charm the pants off of anyone she wanted. But that smile? It felt like it was just for me.

I nodded. It wasn’t in the job description to chat up the guests. I was there to protect and serve, not fraternize. But still she kept on.

“It’s such a nice night tonight. I almost feel like I’m wasting it, in here at this party. I feel like I want to head out, do something different. I don’t know, walk down to the beach or—”

“Don’t go down there by yourself.” I found myself cautioning her. It wasn’t really my responsibility, but what was this crazy talk about heading out alone into the night?

“Why not?” She laughed, light and bubbling up around my dark scowl. “Do you think it’s dangerous?” she teased.

“Yes,” I answered, certain that I knew what I was talking about. She might live in a world of diamonds and rainbows, but I did not.

“Really?” She tilted her head to the side, looking up at me, studying my face as if trying to memorize it. She shouldn’t look so fascinated. “I guess that’s your job. Do you see danger all over?” she asked expectantly. “Even right here?” We stood inches away from each other in the darkness. I could close the distance in half a second. She faced far more danger than she would ever know.

“Yes,” I answered, low, gruff and even more certain. “You should be over in the middle of the party.” It came out rougher than I’d intended, but it was better for her that way. She shouldn’t be over with me lurking in the shadows. Bad things happened to good girls like her when they strayed off the path with men like me.

“Oh.” She looked down, her excitement dampened. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m over here talking to you like this.”

I took a step back, putting distance between us, crossing my arms up over my chest as an additional barrier. It made no sense that my fingers itched to reach out and stroke her soft curls, caress her slender neck. Better to curl them into fists instead. But I couldn’t help myself from reassuring her a little.

“S’all right, princess.”

That got her attention. “I’m not a princess,” she insisted, a spark in her eyes.

“Yes, you are,” I answered, firm and unyielding. It was true, whether she knew it or not.

“I’m Gigi,” she introduced herself, extending her delicate, pale hand in the moonlight. I looked down at it, keeping my hands to myself. Wrapping her soft skin in my steel grip would feel too damn good. Instead, I gave her a brief nod, then returned my attention to the party behind her.

“What’s your name?” she asked, sounding shy but determined.

I looked back down at her. “Dom.”

Damn if she didn’t gaze up at me like she wanted to spend the rest of the night tucked right there in the corner with me. That spelled all kinds of trouble for all kinds of reasons. Number one on the list? The fact that I wanted nothing more than that. Except getting her alone and all to myself. That would be even better.

So I tore my eyes away and ignored her. Arms crossed against my chest, I looked over to my right, my left, anywhere but where she stood there, so lovely and radiant and fucking breathtaking.

“I’m glad to meet you, Dom.” She placed a hand on my forearm and my stomach clenched, it felt so good. She leaned in, stretching up to my ear where she whispered, “Thanks for keeping me safe.”

She turned and walked back into the throng of the party. The sight of her smooth skin, the hollow of her lower back nearly killed me in that revealing dress. She had no idea how far from safe she really was.

3

Gigi

“Is it a gift?” I asked as I instinctively reached for the tissue paper to wrap.

“Yes thanks.” The woman at the counter answered without even looking up from her phone. Most of the people coming into Homeward Bound were picking up a gift, bringing back a touch of the Hamptons in the form of a nautical-themed pillow or blown-glass vase.

I wrapped and tied it all with a wide, yellow grosgrain ribbon. On the counter next to me, my phone lit up for the 90th time this morning with a text from a friend. The phrase “I’m at work” didn’t exactly register with my crew. Work was a foreign concept, something distasteful they’d heard about but never wanted to experience firsthand.

“It is a super cute shop,” my friend Penny had agreed when I’d told her that I’d be spending 20 hours a week working at the quaint little store that sold odds and ends for home decorating. But even she had asked on more than one occasion, “Why are you working there?” Everyone knew I didn’t need the money.

“My mom wants me to” was the stock answer I gave any who asked. And that was true. Lynn, the shop owner, was good friends with my mom and had promised to keep an eye on me over the summer. I’d lived with my mom practically full-time since age ten, and she wasn’t thrilled when I’d told her I wanted to spend the summer out on the Hamptons at my father’s house. Mainly because she knew he would rarely be there to keep a watchful eye over me.

Nor would any of my older brothers, even though I had three of them. Ash was out in California doing his rock-star thing. Heath was holed up in a cabin in Vermont, solidly and determinedly off the grid. They were doing it in different ways, but both were effectively raising their middle finger loud and proud to my corporate father. They wanted nothing to do with our family and, sadly, that meant me as well.

Even my oldest brother, Colt, who had, in every sense, embraced the Kavanaugh name, legacy and family business, wouldn’t be around much. He told me he’d be in the Hamptons on weekends to check in on me, but I knew he’d be the same as my father. A weekend of plans would evolve into “caught in some meetings, running late” which would turn into “need to reschedule.” I’d seen enough of it to not get disappointed any more.

In fact, this summer, the prospect of lots of time to myself without any watchful eyes felt positively liberating. Living with my mother and stepfather in their sprawling estate in Southern Connecticut, I’d been given the best but I’d been kept on an extremely short leash. I’d attended the very best private girls school, learned to play tennis and golf at the very best country club, and ridden my horse at stables used by visiting European royalty. As long as all my actions followed a narrowly prescribed path, everyone was happy, and I was a pleaser above all else. I did not break the rules. My mother worried about me, her youngest, and when other kids headed into the city to party all night, I stayed in and watched sappy movies with girlfriends.

Heading down south to attend Vanderbilt was about as rebellious as I’d gotten so far, but even by my parents’ standards it was hard to call my freshman year there wild. I’d joined the sorority I was expected to rush and went to the parties I was expected to attend, only drinking a polite glass/plastic cup or two max. I’d gone on dates with eligible young men, always the types who would meet the expectations of my parents. And just as reliably, I’d always frustrat

ed them at the end with barely a kiss good night. It wasn’t hard to be good when you felt no temptation to be bad.

At least that had been my experience up until now.

The shop door opened, the bell above giving a soft tinkle and my attention darted over. Could it be him? Of course not. An older woman and what looked like her daughter strolled into the shop, our typical customers. Rough and tough Dom would not be the type to head into our home decorating shop to poke around for gifts and ideas.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I didn’t know what had come over me at the party the other night. I was never forward with men, going over and asking breathy questions about whether it was dangerous to be next to them. A blushing heat stole up into my cheeks just thinking about it. How cheesy of me.

I’d actually reached over and copped a feel of his solid forearm, veins and muscles running along its powerful length. It had been worth it. He’d felt so good. It was all I could do to tear myself away from him and head back into the party. He’d dismissed me several times, with his body language, with his actual words, telling me to leave him alone. Yet I almost couldn’t do it. Everything in me wanted to scoot closer, then closer still until I got so close I could feel his heat and strength and maybe, if I got lucky, get near enough to those full lips so I could taste.