Oil Rig

“What did you say to her?” Shane asks in a voice that’s more savage animal than human. It’s all raspy and growly as he steps up to him with his body flexed.

“Oh, nothing, sir!” the man says with a gulp. He’s backtracking hard, desperately trying to get out of this dangerous situation. “I didn’t mean a thing. Sir.”

“Is she my bonus?” Shane repeats. “Is that what you said?”

“No, sir,” he says, shaking his head frantically. “I think Jack said that. Or maybe it was the wind. It’s so loud, sir. It makes things hard to hear.”

“You think my girl is your bonus?” Shane’s jaw clenches as he stares him down, big heavy breaths violently heaving his chest up and down.

It’s not lost on me that he calls me his girl. It sends a thrill of excitement rushing through me and I have to fight back a giggle.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s like my body is totally on board with this man, even though he’s wrong for me in every possible way.

All of the feminist essays and books I’ve read over the years are gone with the wind after one possessive look from this alpha. It’s as if my primal instincts have taken over and replaced my rational brain. The part of me that wants a big burly male to cozy up to is in total control.

“She’s a beautiful woman,” the man says as he glances over Shane’s shoulder at me.

I wince. That was the wrong thing to say.

Shane slams his fist into the man’s stomach and he doubles over with a pained grunt. “Oomph,” he moans.

“Don’t ever look at my girl again,” he warns. “She’s for my eyes only.”

He looks at me again. Some people never learn.

“I was just saying that she’s a hot piece of Aaaaaaaahhhh!!”

Shane grabs him by the neck and throws him off the platform. He screams all the way down before he lands hard into the water below.

“Anyone else want to say a thing about my girl?” he hollers.

They all get back to work real fast.

“Is he going to be okay?” I ask as I peek over the edge. He pops out of the water and seems to be swimming.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Shane says with a sigh. He squeezes the radio clipped to his shoulder and starts speaking into it. “Jamal. Clyde fell overboard. Get someone to fish him out.”

The radio crackles on. “Will do.”

“Send the word around the rig,” Shane hollers to the guys working. “If anyone looks at my girl, I’ll feed them to the fucking sharks!”

He grabs my hand and pulls me along the platform to the tower at the far end.

My pulse is racing with excitement as he yanks the door open and pulls me in. It’s so quiet in here without the wind howling all around us.

We both stop and take a second, looking at each other with a heated look, hearts pounding as the air inside heats up.

There’s a connection here. I want to explore it. I want to sink into it and let it engulf me with its warmth. I want to feel those big strong arms wrap around me as he presses those soft lips to mine.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a shaky voice.

“Are you okay?”

He just stares at me, not knowing how to answer. I know that he’s shaken by me. I can tell by the way he was acting around his men. Clyde is probably still in shock as he shivers on the boat.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again,” he says as his eyes drop to my mouth. “I think I’m obsessed with you. I think I’m in love.”

I’m tempted to say the same, but this is all happening so fast. It’s so soon. I need to back up a bit. I need to get my bearings.

“Is this your home?” I ask as I change the subject and look around. It’s beautiful in here. A stone fireplace with comfy couches in front of it, a modern kitchen with a big granite island, high ceilings, warm lighting, a bar in the corner, and the view… incredible. Everywhere you look is ocean.

“It is,” he tells me. “Go look around while I get changed and then make you some food.”

I watch him disappear up the stairs and he comes back a few minutes later wearing dressy jeans and a sexy white collared shirt. I thought the dirty worker look was doing something for me, but this clean-cut version is just as powerful.

My eyes follow him as he goes to the kitchen, washes his hands, and then starts pulling stuff out of the fridge.

“I’m guessing you don’t eat meat?”

I laugh. “Is my hippiness that obvious?”

He grins as he shrugs those sexy shoulders. “How about an omelet? Do you eat eggs?”

“An omelet sounds good,” I say as my stomach rumbles. “With extra hot sauce?”