Page 103 of Lost & Found

“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath.

Every curve she typically hid under oversized tees and hoodies was laid bare in that single frame. The red against her olive skin looked stunning. There was a quiet confidence in her posture. My hand tightened around the phone as I zoomed in.

Even in my wildest dreams, I hadn’t imagined her being this sensual and alluring. I legit forgot to breathe as my eyes stayed glued to the image. She had completely captivated me with a photo, of all things.

I had seen her in a leotard. And this morning when I’d caught a glimpse of her when she scrambled out of bed half-covered and flustered. But that had been accidental. This was intentional in every way. This was her choosing to be seen.

Holy shit.

Everyone was going to see her like this. My friends. Fuck…strangers. The men scattered across the beach. Heat surged through my bloodstream so fast it left me momentarily lightheaded. It wasn’t jealousy. It was something far more primal.

Possessiveness.

The feeling was unfamiliar and completely unsettling. I’d never felt it before. Zooming in again, I traced the image with my eyes—the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the soft lines of her stomach.

My body reacted alarmingly. All the blood in my body rushed south. My mouth went dry. A strange storm churned inside me.

No one gets to look at my princess like this.

A throat cleared.

“Oh, my God that color is amazing on you. I love that suit. Where did you get it?” Lisa asked.

I looked up from my phone. Isabella was taking the last few steps toward us, sand shifting beneath her feet. She moved slower than usual, shoulders back but chin lifted in a way that told me she was pretending to be brave.

“Geraldine’s,” she answered, stopping just short of the blanket. “It’s a boutique in London. Pasha is partial to red on me.”

God help me.

The instinct hit so fast it stole oxygen from my lungs. I stood without thinking, phone slipping from my hand to the sand. A low sound rumbled in my chest before I could stop it.

Shield her.

That was the only coherent thought. Thank God she still had her shorts on. The smallest relief flickered there—and then died when I caught Trent staring. Fucker wasn’t even being subtle.

His gaze dragged over her like he’d been starving for a week. Chase and Reggie at least had the decency to pretend they weren’t looking. Isabella’s fingers moved to the button on her shorts.

“No,” I barked.

The word came out harsher than I intended. Her pretty blue eyes snapped to me. Then they dropped immediately onto my bare chest and stayed there. Her hands froze on the button. They trembled. Then fell.

The rage rising in me was not rational. Not even a little. It was something ancient and ugly and unfamiliar. For one wild second, I understood Alek on a deeper level.

I understood now why his eyes had gone cold during the torture session with Tori’s ex. I’d thought he was leaning into the moment, caught up in things. Maybe even being overly dramatic. I judged him for it.

Now I knew. This…this rage was what he was feeling. Control felt fragile when something or someone you valued stood exposed. I stepped in front of her without thinking, blocking every wandering gaze I could with my body. Words crowded my throat. Dangerous ones. It was probably an excellent idea that words failed me.

Because what I wanted to say…was something like—

If you don’t want me to kill someone on this beach, leave those on.

I’d hiss the fucking warning in her ear, scoop her up and haul her sexy ass right back to our room. I’d follow it up with more choice words.

Does your brother know about this bathing suit? This screams Kinsley. The little mouse is fired.

The thoughts were ridiculous. Possessive and completely caveman-level insanity.

And once you get her to the room? What are you going to do then? Huh?