Resting his chin on my head, “You’re in relationship bliss. You want everyone in your world to feel like you do. You need to give it time and hope that when all the dust settles and your friend caught in the gray area realizes all you are willing to offer is being a friend, that it will be the result you want. But you also have to accept that his feelings may be too involved and he won’t be able to stay with you.”
Turning, I wrap him in a hug, “How did you get so wise?”
“Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend, Archer,” growls in a low voice behind me as I’m yanked out of Archer’s arms and shoved behind a pissed off Kohl.
Raising his hands up, Archer attempts to diffuse Kohl’s anger, “It’s not what you think, man.”
Grabbing Archer by his shirt, Kohl spews, “You’re always touching her, flirting with her. I’m sure it’s exactly what I think.”
“She’s not my type, Kohl. I promise you, we’re friends,” Archer grits trying to pull out of Kohl’s grasp.
“Kohl, stop, you’ve got it all wrong,” I beg, pulling on his arm trying to get him to let go. I haven’t seen him this pissed off since the night Chase groped me at Ronnie’s house. He’s scary when he’s angry.
“Not your type,” he exclaims, “Stunning, smart, funny everything. That’s not your type?”
“Yeah, it’s my type if it also comes with a dick,” Archer booms, squaring his shoulders. “I would rather have you than her, Kohl.”
Dropping his hold, Kohl takes a step back. Confusion marring his handsome face. If it wasn’t for the tension in the air the shock on his face would be laughable.
“I’m gay, man. Ten is only a friend, I swear.”
“You’re gay?”
“Yes, and holy shit does it feel good to say that out loud. I’ve been holding that in for so long,” Archer sighs, his shoulders dropping in relief.
Rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the floor, Kohl reaches out his hand, “I’m sorry. I’ve been watching you and know you have that whole actor/artist thing going for you plus you’re smart. I thought you made a better match for my girl.”
Shaking his hand, Archer nods his acceptance, “You’re a lucky man, Kohl. Hang on to her. If I were straight, you would have a fight on your hands,” he jokes.
Smacking Kohl on the chest, “What the hell kind of cave man shit was that?” I ask.
Pulling my hips to him, resting his hands on my ass, “You’re mine, Tensanne Craig. I don’t share. I will make sure every man knows you’re mine, no matter what it takes. I’ll kick the world’s ass if that’s what it takes.”
“I would love to ‘awe’ and ‘coo’ over your declaration of ownership but I really need you to talk to me before you attack my friends. Your macho commanding alpha self is wonderful in bed but out here in the real world, we need to communicate. Deal?” I ask.
Pecking me on the lips, with a smile he nods, “Deal.”
His display of affection was slightly skewed and a tad violent but he wasn’t afraid to let everyone in the shop know I was his. He’s willing to fight someone for simply hugging me. I never thought I would take pride in being owned by a man but I know as much as he owns me, I own him too.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Yoga pants are divine gifts to every man on the planet.
—every man on the planet
Tensanne
“URGH, ARGH,” I grunt, tugging and pulling at my new skinny jeans. The jeans Ronnie insisted would showcase my ass and accentuate my long legs.
“Holy shit, why do women wear these things?” I grumble, fighting to pull them over my calves. “Working on the elliptical has made my calves huge and these jeans are not going over them,” I huff out. “What’s the point of hair and makeup if you sweat it all off trying to pull your damn pants up over your legs?” I swear, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
“Stand-up and jump,” Ronnie advises.
She’s lost her mind, I think. “What the hell,” I mumble, standing and jumping helps shimmy the jeans up to my thighs. Tugging and pulling up the legs and the crotch until they are finally situated on my hips. Sweat is dripping down my face, I’m breathless and my hair is starting to frizz from the exertion it took simply to put on my jeans. I don’t even want to think about what Kohl is going to have to do later when he tries to peel these things off me. We may need a crowbar, proving there is something great about living in easy access, yoga pants.
I slip on a camisole and the sheer, deep blue, flowing cold-shoulder blouse that Ronnie picked out for me to wear, I take in my reflection in the mirror. My brown hair, still with high and low lights, falls in large ringlet curls around my shoulders, my eyes are made up a smoky black that brings out the green flecks and my lips are a plump, kissable pink. The blue blouse floats down over my chest and rests slightly below my waist, the skinny jeans hug my legs like a second skin, holding in everything loose and highlighting my muscle definition, down to the Chucks on my feet. I refuse to give up my tennis shoes. I know Kohl prefers my glasses but tonight is a contacts night and the way Ronnie has done my makeup has my eyes shimmering. I’m beautiful. I’m eighteen and I’m me.
“I’m ready, Ron. Let’s go,” I say grabbing my coat and purse.
Looping her arm with mine, she exclaims, “Tonight is going to be amazing. Kohl is going to flip when he sees how gorgeous you are. I’m so happy for
