“Yeah, Wendy really likes to crack the whip. First time?”
My head snaps up. Because this cocky young guy? He’s talking to my girl.
Yes, the one that I’ve never uttered a syllable to. It doesn’t make any sense because I have zero claim on this woman, but jealousy sears hot and angry through my core at the sight of this fucker talking to her.
His voice becomes oily and the sound of it makes my stomach turn. “You like that, baby? Somebody cracking a whip on you?”
“I’m not your baby,” she says, carefully enunciating each word. She turns away, shaking her head like his words don’t get to her. But I don’t miss how her sweaty face pales and her hands tremble as she cleans up her equipment.
The guy doesn’t take the not-so-subtle hint. He steps closer, practically pressing his pelvis to her ass as she bends over to pick up her discarded hand wraps. “I’ve never done it before, but wouldn’t say no to the chance to try out a few whip moves with you.”
I’m between the two of them before my brain registers that I’ve moved.
“What the hell, man?” the younger guy squeals when I push him away. I sense her turn behind me, and my skin heats with the feeling of her eyes on me.
But I keep my gaze on this douchebag. I make my voice low but let my words vibrate with warning. “You know exactly what the hell. Back off.”
“Or what?” he sneers.
I step closer. “Or I’ll haul your ass to the front desk and keep you there while I have management watch the security cameras’ footage of your sexual assault of this woman.” I jut my chin over my shoulder. I can feel her hovering there, and while I hate that this asshole had to ruin the night for her, I’m glad I get to be her protector. “And then once they call the cops, I will personally see to it that you’re tried and found guilty of your crime.”
Now he’s the one whose skin grows pallid under the flush of his recently completed workout. But he still has the balls to try to backtalk, even though his voice now shakes. Not much, but I’m used to working with people who are trying to bullshit me, and I can hear the tremor. “What, are you a lawyer or something?”
“I am,” I hiss. “A criminal justice prosecutor, and a damned good one. So you better get your ass out of here before I tell this woman exactly why it’s a good idea to press charges.”
The guy’s face falls at the words press charges and he begins backing away, hands up in surrender. “Geez, okay. Sorry, man.”
“She’s the one who needs your apology, not me.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. Glancing at the woman I’m defending, my chest floods with warmth when I realize that she’s looking on with grim satisfaction, lips set in a thin line but her eyes alight.
She approves.
My stomach flips and I have to work to stay focused on the jackass in front of me.
His eyes slide from me to her, and he mumbles something under his breath before moving to turn away.
“Hang on.” He flinches and freezes at my words. “I don’t think she heard you. I sure as hell couldn’t.”
The guy’s irritated and I can tell he’s opening his mouth to argue. But then he catches my glare and thinks better of it. “Um, sorry,” he says, peering around me.
“For . . . ?” I prompt.
He looks at me, actually confused. I shake my head. “You really have no idea what you did wrong, do you?”
“I, uh, touched her?” He speaks in a hushed tone, glancing around him to make sure no one is listening in on our exchange.
“You touched her without asking — with your crotch, you asshole, and on her rear end. That’s assault. And you also verbally harassed her. So,” I cross my arms over my chest, “why don’t you go ahead and try that apology again.”
To his credit, his face is now gray — probably out of concern for himself, but hey, at least he looks something like contrite. “I’m sorry that I harassed and assaulted you.” He glances at me, then adds, “ma’am.”
I turn to the woman. “What do you think? Does he seem sorry?”
To my surprise, she snorts. “Not sorry enough, but I’m not surprised.”
“You want to press charges?” I ask her. “It’s well within your rights. And you have an eye-witness and video footage to back you up.”
“Hey, I thought you said if I apologized —“ the guy pipes up.
I turn on him with a growl. “You do not want to finish that sentence.”
He clamps his jaw shut. Smart man.
I look again to the woman, trying to ignore how stunning she is even though she just sweated her heart out and then had to put up with this dumb fuck of a human. “Your call,” I say. “I’m behind you all the way if you decide to press charges. And I’ll represent you free of charge.”
Her eyebrows peak. “Seriously?”
I nod. “There are too many dicks like him out there. It would be my pleasure to put at least one of them in his place.”
Her eyes wander from me to him. She catches her bottom lip in her front teeth as she ponders her options. Finally, she shakes her head. “While I’m tempted by your offer,” she says, giving me a shy smile, “I’d prefer to never have to look at him again.” Her gaze shifts to the younger man and grows steely.
“You sure?” I ask.
She nods, the movement decisive. “One hundred percent.”
“Well,” I say, turning back to the guy I’ve got trembling in his trainers, “it’s your lucky day. But I never want you back in this gym, got that? I see you here again and I’m reporting you to management.”
“But I just joined this gym.” He scowls, and his voice twists into a whine that makes me want to punch him in the face. I ball my hands into fists and force them to remain at my sides.
I make my stance wide, feral. I’m the alpha in this situation and I want it to stay that way. “The members deserve to have a safe place to work out — a place free of you. So get the fuck out and don’t come back. I’ll know if you do — I’m here often.” I take a single step forward. “Got it?”
He drops his eyes to the floor and I know I’ve won. I can practically see his fight fade like a thin wisp of smoke wafting from a just-extinguished candle. “Yeah,” he says faintly. “Got it.”
He beats a hasty retreat, eager to get out of here without a charge on his criminal record.
As he should be.
I turn back to the woman. My heart’s hammering in my throat. I was calm and confident throughout my whole exchange with the dumbass. But now that it’s just she and I, I’m fucking terrified.
“Well,” I say, not sure where to place my hands. “Sorry about that guy.”
“Thanks for stepping in. I mean,” she says with a smile, “I know how to handle myself in situations like that. But I’m grateful that this one time I didn’t have to.”
I nod, suddenly worried in spite of her reassurances that I’ve overstepped my bounds and gotten involved where I wasn’t wanted or needed. “I’m sorry if I —“ I stammer, but she shakes her head and cuts me off.
“You didn’t.”