Well, not completely. She seemed to have at least some idea about what she did to me, and she'd had no problem practicing her wiles on me rather ruthlessly for the last few years.
I was a willing lamb to the slaughter. Anything she wanted to do to me I wanted done. I'd lie on my back and let her sharpen her claws on my underbelly as long as she let me look at her while she did it.
I was that far gone.
But she was mine, fucking mine, and only I had the right to think of her that way, let alone speak about her that way.
Which brought us to this fight, and the things I'd caught these punks saying about her in the locker room. They hadn't even been trying to hide it from me, the thickheaded idiots.
We'd just finished football practice. Scarlett had come to watch from the stands, but everyone knew she was there for me. Every single one of these guys knew what was up.
I'd been on my way out, practically to the door, hell, maybe that was it, maybe they'd thought I was already gone, when I heard them talking.
They didn't even have to say her name. And a few words in I nearly lost it just by the tone in scumbag Reese's voice.
"Did you see what she was wearing today?" he was asking his buffoon, jock friends.
That's all it took. I knew who he was talking about.
I stopped in my tracks, my entire body going stiff. Reese I had a particular problem with. This was not his first offense, or even his third. He had a thing for my girl, a thing that involved him degrading and coveting her both, and I had a major fucking issue with it.
"Fucking A I did," one of his greasy buddies answered.
"She's such a fucking tease," another one said.
"No," Reese replied. "She's no tease. She's been giving it up to Durant since sixth grade, I heard."
From my shoulders to my fists, I felt myself begin to shake.
"No shit?" one asked.
"Doesn't surprise me one bit," the other added.
"Yeah, it's the truth," Reese said, like he knew it for a fact. "She's a little nympho, too, man. Can't get enough cock. I heard she'll spread her legs for anybody. There's just one thing you have to do."
Fucking triggered.
I knew I was about to get myself into trouble, but I'd heard too much. I couldn't walk away.
"What?" his friends chimed on cue.
"Just take her out back to the dumpster. Makes her feel right at home."
Fucking.
Triggered.
They started laughing and I lost my shit.
"She'll let anyone plow her if you don't mind a little garbage with your puss . . ." Reese trailed off as he saw me coming at them.
The rest was a domino effect of violence. I took the punks out, one by one.
"Don't talk about her. If I hear another fucking word come out of your mouth that has anything to do with my girl you will make me have to hurt you." I was spitting each word into his face I was so unrepentantly angry.
The two cohorts were down, and I was straddling a struggling Reese, one hand holding him in place, the other cocked back for another blow when my friend Nate's voice got through to me.
"Coach is coming. Dante, he's coming! Walk away!"
I let my fist fly one last time with relish before I got off him.
The first thing I saw when I walked outside was Scarlett. She was waiting for me, looking edible, living up to every fantasy that every one of those fuckers no doubt had about her on a daily basis.
I was a hypocrite. Even if she hadn't been mine, even if she'd been with someone else, I'd have fixated on her, obsessed about her.
It was the wildness in her. She could never hide it. Not in her eyes, not in her smile, not in her masses of wavy hair, or her out of this world curves. Every part of her led the mind to the same conclusion—this beautiful creature cannot be tamed.
It drove guys out of their minds, I knew firsthand. I'd been mad for her since we were ten years old and she gave me her first conspiratorial grin, the one that told me we'd be giving the world hell.
Adrenaline was still pumping through my system, endorphins going wild, as I approached.
Her brows drew together in concern as she saw my face. "Fighting again?" She touched my cheek when we were in reaching distance. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I said shortly. Reese's words were still echoing through my head, still drawing me back to fight him.
"Who was it?" she asked.
"No one important," I replied truthfully.
"Let's get out of here," she said, taking my hand.
"The cabin's ready," I told as her we broke into the woods, moving swiftly along the familiar trail that took us home.
She shot me a look. "Are you . . . up for that? Is this really the best time? I can tell you were hit in the face—your cheek is red. Where else are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. You can check out my other bruises . . . at the cabin." I grinned at her. She blushed and looked away.
I felt myself getting hard.
"Isn't it a long hike?" she asked her feet.