Submit (Whiskey Run Heroes 3)

I pull back to look at her, and there’s a man over her shoulder. He’s been beside us since we got off the plane and hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off Samantha since. It's driving me crazy, and it doesn't take much, but I'm already to my breaking point. I look at the guy and tell him, “Look, buddy, I suggest you stop staring at my wife and move on.”

The man notices me for the first time, which is hard to believe because I'm easily noticeable for how much bigger I am compared to others. His eyes widen, and he takes off in the opposite direction. I feel a little better, but not much. I have a feeling this won’t be the first time I have to run someone off on this mission.

Samantha gasps next to me, but I don't care. I'm not going to stand by and let someone stare her like that. I don't want anybody's eyes on her but me. I know that makes me territorial, and she probably doesn't fucking appreciate that, but I just can’t do it. I’m seething and about to cause a scene when she pulls me to her. Her tight body is pressed against mine, and I swear I’ve forgotten my name, not to mention what it is I’m mad about. She pats me on the chest. Her hand is warm right over my heart, and I know that she can feel it thundering underneath her palm.

I'm surprised when I look at her face because she's not mad. If anything, she's smiling from ear to ear. “Better. I mean, you don’t have to scare people off, but well played.”

She pulls my hand to lead me to the exit of the airport, and I follow behind her like a lovestruck little puppy.

She thought I was joking. She thought that it was all for show, that I ran that guy off to be convincing or whatever. Fuck, that's the furthest thing from the truth. I felt that insane, territorial jealous feeling coursing all the way through my body. I wasn't joking in the least. I won't stand by and let some man look at her the way that asshole was. This is probably going to be one of the hardest missions I've ever been on in my life. I'm going to have to form a whole new level of self-control.

5

SAMANTHA

Three hours later, and I'm still fanning myself. I stare at the king-sized bed in the middle of the room and know that there is no way I'm going to survive this mission. I may have lived through combat. I may have survived being shot at in enemy territory, but I will not survive sleeping in the same bed as Bear. My eyes flick to him sitting on the balcony. As soon as we walked into the room, he took one look at the bed, dropped the bags that he insisted on carrying, and then went straight outside the balcony door.

I expected him to get on his phone or something like that, but he didn't. And I've been watching him. I hate to admit it, but I thought maybe he wanted to check out the women on the beach or by the pool, both which we have a great view of. I’ve not heard of Bear hooking up with anyone—heck, for all I know he could have a girlfriend or fiancée at home. But I don't think that's the case. He has sat in the same position ever since he got out there, staring at his hands the whole time, playing with the wedding band on his finger.

Instantly I look down at the big rock on my mine. I still can't believe that he went and bought the wedding rings. I have so many questions about it. Like what was he thinking? Who was he thinking about? What does he plan to do with them after this? Surely, he'll just return them, right? I shake my head and sit on the chair in the corner of the room. From here I have a perfect view of the bed and of Bear. Instantly a thousand images start to play in my mind, and it’s all sweaty bodies, my legs wrapped around his waist, his big hands holding mine to the bed. I have a full body tremble and shake my head to try to get the images out.

I jump up and decide that I just need to go on about my business. He can sit out there and stew on whatever it is he’s thinking about. I’m going to shower and get ready for dinner. I take my time, and at the end of it, I turn the faucet to cold to help calm my nerves. It isn't until I'm done that I realize I have not brought in any clothes.