Free Unforgiven by Elizabeth Finn

the inside of his thigh with her palm, but while her attention might be solely on him, his was not on her. He was glaring at Bailey, and she shuddered at the anger in his eyes. Anger wasn’t how he ever regarded her—not ever, but she’d be damned if he didn’t look two seconds from ripping into her. When he cocked his head to the side, he was warning her, but when Trinity’s hand moved up toward his groin and Bailey watched as he sucked in a quick breath at the touch, she made up her mind.
    “Sure.” The guy pulled her toward the open patio, and she walked with him down the patio steps to the sea wall and the sidewalk that ran along it.
    They moved slowly; the guy was staggering just slightly, and Bailey wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t too. When he pushed her up against the wall, she gasped. He was pinning her to the wall with his groin. He trailed his hand out to her own, taking her drink from her and setting it behind her on the top of the wall just behind her shoulder level.
    “You don’t need that now, do you?” He was speaking seductively as he ground his pelvis against her.
    “What she doesn’t need is you touching her, asshole. Get your fucking hands off her.” Darren’s voice was seething with hatred, and when she turned to look up the sidewalk from the direction they’d come, he was standing there alone, glaring at the guy who still pinned her to the wall with his erection.
    “Fuck you. Who the fuck are you?” The guy spoke with all the surety his drunkenness afforded him.
    “I’m her brother. Get lost.” Darren was still seething, and he’d not even bothered looking at her yet.
    “You are not!” She burst out laughing, but it was more condemning than humorous.
    “Bailey, shut up! You’ve already shown just how stupid you can be on your own.” His eyes flashed to hers as he spoke, and it stopped the laugh in her throat in an instant. He was furious. When his attention moved back to the guy who had finally pulled his body away from her to face Darren, it was only to threaten him. “You’re going to leave her alone, or I’m going to make you. Your choice. But keep this in mind. My only concern is her—not getting laid, not getting loaded, not looking like the stud you obviously think you are. There’s no possible way for you to come out of this ahead without looking like a douche bag . . . unless of course you walk away and go find some other drunk chick to fuck around with. Either way, I’m not leaving until you’re gone.”
    Bailey knew her mouth was hanging open. It was two parts embarrassment, one part complete and utter arousal. She’d wanted to show him up. She’d wanted to make him jealous, and whatever he was, it wasn’t pretty. It was anger, it was irritation, and it was a glaring reminder that she couldn’t and shouldn’t have even tried to play this game. She’d done it for her dignity’s sake, but it had been a complete and utter fail.
    The guy started shuffling his feet a bit, eyeing Darren as he contemplated, but it was obvious he’d lost his edge. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re a pussy-fucking bitch-boy with a hard-on for his sister.” The guy was trying hard to maintain his cool, not realizing in the least he was falling prey to Darren’s own brand of calm, cool control; he was also proving Darren’s point perfectly, though he was likely too arrogant and stupid to realize it, and his inability to stand his ground without looking like a knob was almost embarrassing.
    “You can call me whatever you like so long as you move on.”
    “Bitch.” He spit the words at Darren, and Darren’s only reaction was to roll his eyes as though he couldn’t believe he was being forced to stoop so low.
    The guy started off down the sidewalk, walking out and around Darren in a wide arc. Darren’s arms were crossed on his chest, and he was studying Bailey as the guy moved away from them, taking Darren’s advice, though the occasional pathetic curse he let loose said it was a