Page 62 of Worth Loving You

I chuckled, readjusting the waist of my trousers. Casting him a look, my excitement fizzled. “I want you to try again.”

“What?” His foot hit the floor and he turned in his chair to sneer. “Why? I done tried, she shot me down.”

“Try…again.”

“Why? I don’t want to fuck her.”

Holding my palms out, I glared and hissed, “Keep your goddamn voice down. Try again, and again, and again.”

“What’s the point?”

“Because…” My pulse skipped, my throat constricting. “Because if she continues to shoot you down, I’m…going to marry her.”

Doing a doubletake, his jaw fell, his eyes bulging. “Please, don’t be serious, Milo.”

“I am. She’s perfect and if she’s loyal, I’m making her my wife.”

He groaned and flung himself to the back of the chair, slouching low and spreading his legs wide. “Goddammit.”

Ignoring his attitude, I focused on the sexy, voluptuous, naked woman waiting for me to ravish her in my bed. “You, uh…might want to take a walk down on the beach for a while. This might get loud. Wouldn’t want you to hear me slapping that fat ass and making her scream.”

“Oh my god, boss!” he shouted, shaking his arms out at his sides. “Just…knock it off.”

I snickered and jogged inside, hurrying through the house to the master suite. Opening the door, everything inside ceased, every hair on my body standing on end.

Chastity was completely naked, in the center of the mattress, her arms stretched above her head, one leg bent and leaning over the other. Her wet hair splayed out on the pillows, her lids were hooded, her nipples hard.

“Hey,” she whispered, slowly caressing a palm down the center of her chest, over her belly, to a hip.

I gulped, my mouth running dry. I was absolutely going to marry this woman if she proved herself to be loyal. If she rebuked Wyatt’s advancements, this would be my wife, the mother to my children.

I was in love with Chastity Lou Monroe.

Chapter 23

Wyatt Shaw

It was a dive in a less than ideal part of town. Outdated décor, stale odor lingering in the air, and generic booze lining the shelves. The crowd was a tad thin, but it was raining, so that was to be expected. The band, Christ, the band was fucking horrible. The singer was off key and changing the words, and the musicians sucked. The only one with talent on the stage was the guy named Dave, but he was so high and blitzed, he kept messing up.

Standing rigid, my back against the wall next to the stage, I clasped my wrist in front of my stomach, carefully scanning the other patrons. Why in the hell did Chastity hang out here with these people? She really had lousy taste in friends. First Jennifer, now these lowlifes. Why did she choose horrible people?

The band on break, they were sitting at a large, rounded table, laughing and drinking. Chastity was wearing a light blue, button up blouse and black jeans, basic, black wedges on her feet. No makeup, no fancy jewelry, and her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail.

Studying her and her friends, I quickly forgot my job of scoping the surroundings and simply focused on them. She was giving Dave a hand massage because he’d hurt it at work that morning. While she was doing that, the lead singer was toying with Chastity’s hair, tucking the loose curls behind her ear. The drummer rose from his chair just enough to lean across the table, wiping something off her cheek before plopping back down.

Fascinated, my head tilted, my eyelids narrowing. The bartender, someone named Tim, strutted over to give everyone fresh drinks without any of them having to ask. Giving Chastity a different drink than the one she had, my features grew taut with suspicion.

As he was headed back to the bar, I motioned with my head and called out his name.

Blinking rapidly, he crept closer, still wary of my presence. “Yes, sir? Did you change your mind and want to order something?”

“No. What did you give Chazzy?”

Confused, his brows furrowed as he peered over his shoulder. “Uh, her…” His thumb tossed over his shoulder, his sight back on mine. “Her drink.”

“No, no. That’s not what she had.”

“Chazz…” Squinting, his chin tucked toward his shoulder to give a sideways leer. “Chazz only drinks two alcoholic beverages when she comes in. After that, she wants soda.”