Everyone Loves Big D (Rock Hard Security Book 4) Page 2

  “Wow, I feel much less curious now.”

  “Fine!” She huffs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s not an interesting story and believe me I’m not worth ruining your vacation over.”

  “You know I’m a man, right?” I say with a cocky grin. “Helping a pretty girl escape her evil ex-boyfriend against the backdrop of a beach house is the dream.”

  “Two things,” she says. “I’m not pretty and he was never my boyfriend. We went on one date and it sucked.”

  I let her low opinion of herself go for now but listen intently as she tells me about James. And the more I listen the angrier I get.

  Apparently they’d gone on one date, hadn’t clicked, and she’d thought that was it. Then the calls started, the unexpected visits. And like most of these stories, she tried to handle it by being polite but firm in letting him know that she wasn’t interested, and like most assholes he’d taken that as a massive slight and decided that she needed to be punished.

  As I listen she tells me about how it started so small, she didn’t even realize just how crazy things had gotten till it was too late and the final straw was when he hacked her phone and posted photoshopped nudes both of herself, her friends, and her boss all over social media.

  In one swipe she’d lost her job, her apartment, and her friends.

  “Kelly was the only one who believed me,” she says. “I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t.”

  “Of course she believed you,” I say, barely containing my own outrage. “She’s got a brain and two eyes. Anyone could see that you’d never do anything like that.”

  She looks surprised at the comment but quickly looks away. “You don’t even know me.”

  “No, but I like to think that I have good instincts. Did you try the police? I know stalking can be hard to prove but I’m pretty sure hacking someones phone and stealing data are still illegal.”

  She shrugs. “There’s no proof he did it. If I’d been paying attention before I might have been able to prove something but … I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think anyone would stalk me. I mean, look at me.”

  I am looking at her and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. But there’s no non creepy way to say what I’m thinking.

  “If you could see him right now, what would you do?”

  “That’s easy,” she says and jumps to her feet. “I’d stab him.” She makes a dramatic stabbing motion with her spoon that is just too adorable in those pajama pants. “Right in the eyeball.”

  I unconsciously cover my own eye. “That’s very specific.”

  She winks at me and smiles, clearly enjoying the fantasy a bit too much for comfort.

  Thinking, I say, “Would you settle for punching him in the face?”

  “That depends, can we go do it now?”

  I smile because I can’t not. She’s so damn cute. “Do you have much experience with punching? It’s not as easy as it looks.”

  She looks at me incredulously. “How hard can it be? I mean guys do it all the time.”

  “Not all the time. Sometimes we sleep and eat too.” Standing up, I offer her the tub of ice-cream. “Here are your choices. You can punch him and leave him with a red mark for a day, or you can knock that piece of shit flat. I guarantee he’ll remember that for the rest of his life.”

  She nods, pointing her spoon at me. “Yes, the second one.”

  I smile down at her, liking the new life and excitement in her face. When we’d met she’d been so tense, that was possibly, slightly, somewhat my fault. This softer more aggressive side was fun. Part of me wants to lean down, close the distance and kiss her, but I can’t do that. Not now, not after what she’s been through.

  “I’m off to bed,” I say suddenly, stepping back too fast. “Be ready to train at 5am.”

  With that I give her a smile and a wink and head for the stairs.

  “Wait, what?” She calls after me. “Train? 5am!”

  I turn, walking backwards. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  I run up the stairs before she can ask any more questions. If I stay in her company any longer with her looking the way she does, I’m likely to start her workout right now.

  Chapter 3

  Faith

  BEEP. BEEP. BEEP!

  What in the nine hells is that? My eyes pry open and I groan at the alarm. But it sounds different, not that electrical sound of an alarm clock. It’s deeper, louder.

  Wait, is that Big D?

  I sit up. “What are you doing you big stupid idiot!” I yell through the door, the filter that usually edits out nasty words not awake yet.

  “Come on, slugger. It’s time for your training. I hope you’re decent, because now this is happening.” He slams open the door and struts in looking way too chipper for this early in the morning. “We’re gonna punch that stalker right in his face,” he sings in the most out of key voice imaginable. “We’re gonna punch that man’s stupid ugly face.”

  “Alright, I’m up! Just stop singing.”

  “Down stairs in ten or I come back with my hits from the Mikado.”

  I throw my pillow at him and he’s still laughing as he closes the door.

  Can I just go back to getting stalked and abandoned by my friends?

  Ten minutes later I arrive down stairs just as he’s making his way up with a disturbingly high voiced rendition of Three Little Maids From School!

  “I’m here, I’m here!” I say. “Whats up first?”

  He holds out a plate loaded with bacon, sausages, and eggs. “First is a good breakfast loaded with protein.”

  I frown at it, although it smells divine. I must have been so busy being grouchy that I didn’t even notice the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen.

  Sitting down, I nearly swoon when he brings me freshly brewed coffee.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” I say. “But is it a good idea to eat so much before going for a run or whatever?”

  “First of all,” he says, holding up a particularly plump sausage. “Running can go eat a dick. I never run. We are going to take a walk on the beach. It helps with stamina, leg strength, and balance, also the sand is nice. Next we’ll focus on arm strength. Getting a really good punch in, is all about muscle and stance. Also mindset. Next time he lays eyes on you, he’s going to think a truck hit him.”

  After breakfast we head down to the beach and I totally get it. It’s beautiful first thing in the morning. The sun is just coming up and the whole beach is deserted except for us and a few cawing seagulls.

  I’d been dreading the work out. I tend to sweat and it’s not pretty.

  But walking on the beach with Big D is actually really nice and refreshing. The sound of the waves, the sand under my feet and between my toes makes me forget that I’m exercising at all.

  “What’s your real name?” I ask after several minutes of comfortable silence.

  “Daryl,” he says and smiles at me. “You know, nobody has asked me that in years.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous,” I say. “You must date, I mean look at you.”

  “Why, Faith, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

  I wave it off, steering the conversation away. “So everyone just calls you Big D? Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “I never really thought about it till now,” he replies.

  “I just mean, lots of people have nicknames, but there’s usually at least someone who uses your real name, occasionally.”

  He frowns at me, the lines between his brows getting deeper, and I immediately feel guilty. What business is it of mine how he chooses to live?

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to — I don’t know, get too personal.”

  He turns and places a hand on my arm, forcing me to look at him. With a soft smile that makes my stomach flip he says, “You weren’t getting too personal. I’d just never really thought about it. You’re right, though, it would be nice to have one person at least who uses my name.”

&nbsp
; He’s staring at me so intensely, I feel my face flushing. Does he mean me?

  All at once he starts walking again. Clearing his throat, he says, “So tell me about you. What did you do before all this? Where did you grow up? How do you know Kelly?”

  We talk for a long time. I tell him about my boring job in accounting, my so called friends, my parents who are thankfully living in England and had no idea about the shit-storm that had become my life.

  In turn, with some prodding he starts talking about his life too. He tells me about his time in the military, how all the discipline was what he needed as a young man but he always hated it and it was the one thing he didn’t miss about those days. He told me how proud he’s felt, still felt for having served his country and how amazing it was to now be in business with the same men who had his back.

  But his tone changes when he talks about his closest friend, Bear. Apparently the other man recently hooked up with a new girl and it’s serious. Daryl is happy for him, but misses his friend. I feel like maybe since all his brothers in arms are settling down and starting families of their own, maybe he’s starting to feel lonely, maybe even a little jealous.

  But what I like most is that he doesn’t take those feelings to a dark or angry place, he just seems kind of sad. Is that why he’s so eager to help me train? Because he misses having friends to do this stuff with?

  Maybe.

  I like the idea of being friends with this man. He’s funny and caring and I sense a loyalty and protectiveness in him.

  I cast him a sidelong look and lick my lips. To be honest, I think I’d be open to almost anything with him. It’s like I built him in a computer. He’s tall and ruggedly handsome like if Jason Momoa and Chris Hemsworth had a baby. And, not to be sexist or weird, but I would watch that sex tape.

  But let’s be real. A guy like him could get any woman he wanted. No way would he be interested in me as anything other than a friend.

  After our walk, he was whistling under his breath as he opened a locked door to a staircase and led the way down to an in house gym.

  “Now don’t worry,” he’s saying as he pulls out a couple of hand weights and hands them to me. “These won’t make you all bulky or muscly.”

  I just roll my eyes. “It’s not like my physic could get much worse.”

  He stops and his smile disappears. “You have got to stop talking about yourself that way.” He stalks closer and slips the weights out of my hands, placing them on the ground. He settles those large hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes his expression completely open and honest. “I don’t know who told you that you’re not fucking perfect, but they were lying. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I for one think you’re beautiful.”

  With that, he presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering long enough to make me feel warm all over.

  “Now let’s get to work,” he says, and hands me the weights.

  Daryl

  The first week passes way too fast, but it’s easily the best of my life. Being with Faith is so easy. We like the same kinds of movies, we’re both obsessed with true crime, and we agree that though we both loved Clarice Starling, the Hannibal Lecter books should have started Will Graham till the end.

  Every morning we walk on the beach, talking about everything sometimes serious, sometimes teasing and silly. Then we work out in the downstairs gym, and finish off with some lunch. After that I go surfing, and usually she comes with and sits on the beach reading while I ride the waves.

  Sometimes I catch her watching. And I can tell by the way her eyes get wider and her chest flushes, that she likes what she’s seeing. I never miss a chance to look her in the eyes as I walk back up the beach towards her, dripping wet, my semi-tented board shorts hanging off my hips and my chest bare. Much like I can’t resist the occasional glimpse of her magnificent breasts, she never fails to gaze at me wide, tattooed chest.

  Sometimes the tension in those moments is so hot I hear the air crackling as she hands me my towel, that shy smile making my gut clutch tight.

  I really like her. Like the heart pumping, smiling like an idiot, can’t wait till morning so I can see her again, kind of like. The want to be with her every second of the day, and not just to do dirty things with that sexy curvy body kind. Although, I really want to do that too.

  Though these last few days have been amazing, they’ve also been painful. My balls haven’t stopped aching since we met and using my hand just isn’t getting the job done, if you know what I mean.

  I want, no I need to fell her next to me, under me, over me. I need to sink my rigid length into her soft, wet body and show her how a real man takes care of his woman.

  I’ve never gone this long in the company of a woman I want, without getting down to business by now. I know why I haven’t made a move; Faith is still recovering from a betrayal. I don’t want to take advantage of her like that. But at the same time, I really, really do.

  Her face is flushed a pretty pink and her hair is braided down her back as she glares at the punching bag and lands three awkward punches. The third practically skids to the side and I swear I hear the bag laughing.

  “Okay, you need to stop before the bag starts calling you names like noodle arms,” I say. “You’re smacking at it like some mad cat, flapping your arms around. Landing a good punch is all about form and control.”

  She looks bemused more than annoyed. “How is it this complicated. It looks so easy in the movies.”

  “Everything looks easy in the movies.” I smile indulgently as I take her shoulders and turn her back to face the bag. “Lets focus on your form, first, the actual hitting part will come more naturally later.”

  “If you say so,” she says, but I don’t miss the way her voice turns breathy at our closeness. “Do they pull you aside in school and show you how to do this stuff?”

  “Nope,” I murmur, my mouth close to her ear. “Most men have no idea how to throw a punch and those hits you see on TV probably wouldn’t do much damage if they were real anyway. They’re meant to look flashy and dangerous, but the real thing is raw and gritty and violent.”

  She sucks in hitched breath and nods.

  “Now, bring those shoulders back, then relax them.” She does as she’s told with my hands on her back, guiding her. “Good girl.”

  I slide my hands, slowly down the silky flesh of her arms till I get to the wrists and gently but firmly pull them up so they’re braced in front.

  “We’re going to start with a sharp upper cut. But we’ll take it nice and slow first, Okay?”

  “O — Okay,” she stutters.

  Gripping her wrist, I gently pull her arm back. “Now, nice and slow this time we’re going to push forward, turn your fist, and thrust.”

  Her chest flushes again and I feel my own breath coming faster as I guide her through the first movement. Together we, swing her arm, turn her fist so the curled fingers are at the top, then we thrust her fist forward and up till it touches the bag.

  We practice that a bunch of times before she suggests doing it for real and I’m so fucking ready. But it turns out she’s talking about punching the bag. I can tell by the way her face turns pink and her eyes look anywhere but at me, that she didn’t totally mean punching the bag either.

  I step away and let her go.

  She upper cuts that bag hard, her form almost perfect, and her arm strong.

  “You’re kind of a natural,” I say, adjusting her stance slightly before instructing her to sucker punch the bag again. “Ever thought of taking up some form of martial arts.”

  Her laugh is more of a surprised bark. “Me?” She coughs, then looks away. “I — um — don’t really have the physic for it.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit,” I say, suddenly angry. “I’m going to tell you a secret. The men who want skinny little stick women, are weak men themselves. They need a woman they can protect and treat like children, to make themselves feel strong.”

  I advance on her and she
retreats till her back is against the bag. I grab it, trapping her because I need her to understand this.

  “Real men, want a strong capable woman by their side, not hidden behind their back. I don’t want or need a girl I have to worry about every second or who never eats or enjoys things because all she cares about is having perfect hair. Those women are boring and tedious.”

  “You’re not … You’re not just saying that?”

  The uncertainty in her expression breaks my heart. What was wrong with this world when weak people are prized while fun voluptuous women are made to feel like less?

  “Nope. I know you’ve been through some shit lately and I never want to pressure you. But I have enjoyed this past week more than any I can remember and I find you very exciting to be with.”

  Her smile is hopeful and her beautiful eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. I feel my breath coming faster, my heart beating faster. Damn, I like this woman.

  I need to taste her. Leaning down I touch my lips to hers, a mere brush of mouths, but the sparks jump between us with an intensity that makes us both gasp.

  I’ve been with a lot of different woman but I’ve never felt like this.

  “Hello! Anyone home? Knock knock!”

  I freeze and swear under my breath, recognizing Kelly’s voice coming from upstairs.

  “You go up first,” I say feeling my own face flush. “I should give it a minute.”

  She frowns. “Why?”

  Giving her a pained look, I point down at the obvious tent in my pants and her mouth forms a sexy O as she blushes so adorably. I see her fingers flex at her sides and I know she wants to touch it, goddamn, I want her to touch it so bad, I could just kill bloody Kelly for interrupting.

  “I promise, when we’re alone again, you can play with it all you want,” I say and my voice cracks.

  “Will you let me …” her eyes flick back down to my pants. “Touch it with my mouth?”