8.4
"No one's competing for anything, jackass," Nathaniel growls.
Two hot guys. Vi's words echo in my mind, and for a fleeting moment, the prospect of two of the most attractive men I've ever met being interested in me is appealing.
Then I come to my senses. These might be two of the best-looking men I've ever seen, but they’re also two arrogant football players who have absolutely no regard for appropriate behavior or social decorum. My father would absolutely have a coronary if he knew I were the slightest bit attracted to either one of them.
And I'm not the least bit interested. Really, I'm not. Obviously, my lust-addled brain is confused by the fact that I've not dated anyone in a million years, causing me to have little fantasies about the two men.
I just need to get control of my mind. If there's anything in life that I'm a master of, it's maintaining discipline and control. I'm the daughter of the President, after all. I've lived most of my life in the public eye. The word impulsive is not in my vocabulary.
"You're right. With me here, there's no real competition," Adriano says, gesturing down the length of his body. "Not when she has all this in front of her. You might as well just count yourself out of the running."
Nathaniel rolls his eyes. "I'm sure she's interested in a guy whose idea of romance is flying a blow-up doll into her backyard."
"You mean romance like tearing off her dress and getting photographed grabbing her tits?" Adriano asks.
Nathaniel starts to respond, but I interrupt the bro-argument, annoyed by the increasing amount of testosterone on display. Okay, I might be more annoyed by the very small part of me that might possibly find all of this testosterone slightly attractive, especially since their caveman attitudes are so over the top that they should disgust me. What I need to do is start thinking with my brain and not my hoo-hah.
And my brain is definitely irritated right now. I clear my throat, shoving aside the part of me that’s attracted to them. "Excuse me? I'm pretty sure I get a say in this, since you're discussing me like I'm not even here. And in case you're wondering, I'm not some kind of prize for the two of you to compete over."
"We weren't saying you were a prize, exactly," Nathaniel attempts to clarify.
"But if we were competing, the obvious choice would be me," Adriano notes. “I’m the hot one.”
“Shut up, asshole,” Nathaniel growls.
I don't bother to stifle my groan. "You sent blow-up dolls to my house and then answered your door naked when I brought them back to you."
Adriano grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Yeah, I did."
"And you," I say, pointing at Nathaniel. "You ripped my gown and put your hands on my breasts at a charity event!"
"Well, hell, when you put it that way, it just sounds awkward," Nathaniel answers.
"Actually, it sounds more like assault," Adriano clarifies. “Pretty sure that’s a crime.”
I turn back toward him. "Says the guy who flew a drone into my backyard?"
"Drone makes it sound all nefarious and shit.”
“Big word. Did you get that from a word-of-the-day calendar?” Nathaniel glares at Adriano.
“I’ve learned lots of big words that way,” Adriano says, making a hmph sound. “It was a remote-controlled helicopter, really. An expensive one, but still."
"I feel like we're not presenting our best selves here," Nathaniel notes.
"Speak for yourself," Adriano says. "I'm coming off just fine."
From behind me, Blair snorts loudly. "If you think this is 'just fine,' I'm curious to see what 'terrible' is."
"Look, sweetheart, I'm doing you a favor by donating my ranch to your charity," Nathaniel grumbles.
"Oh, sure, go for the whole good-guy-donates-to-charity thing," Adriano jabs sarcastically.
I bristle at his words. "Doing me a favor? Well, I guess I should be grateful that you're doing me a favor after groping me in public."
"You asked for that one." Adriano whistles low, raising his eyebrows as he looks at Nathaniel, whose face reddens. "I can't believe you called her sweetheart."
"Says the guy who called me sugar tits on meeting me?"
"In my defense, I didn't know you were the President's daughter."
"Somehow I doubt that would have changed anything." I turn to Nathaniel, my irritation only increasing. "You can keep your favor, and you can keep your ranch. And you can keep your hands-on approach to charity, too, because spending time with you on a ranch, even if it’s for deserving kids, isn’t worth it at all.”
"You’re going to your ranch with her?” Adriano asks. His nostrils flare, and for a second, I think I see a look of possessiveness cross his face. The problem is, instead of turning me off – which is how the logical part of me would react – the expression sends a thrill of arousal rushing through me. But I shake off that feeling, crossing my arms as Nathaniel gives Adriano a look of pure fury.
"Not anymore. Right now, I'm going back into my house where I'm going to have a cup of tea, read the newspaper, and forget all about the fact that two of the most immature men I've ever met have disrupted my life the way they have over the past week."
I don’t wait for a response before turning to walk away, aware that I’m practically flouncing away from two professional athletes with bodies made for sin, both of whom apparently find me attractive. I try not to think about either of them when I go into my empty house and make my cup of tea, or when I flip through the newspaper. I definitely try not to think about the fact that I just threw a bit of a fit and angrily rejected Nathaniel’s donation of his ranch for the summer camp that starts in exactly one week. And I try not to think of the fact that I’m going to have to eat crow and apologize to him in order to get the ranch back.
I totally lost my cool out there and let my temper get the better of me. I can’t remember the last time that happened. I’m usually calm and collected, no matter what, but these two men seem to get me flustered. But honestly, where does Nathaniel Ashby get off with the snide comment about doing me a favor by donating his ranch? After what happened at the charity event, that's certainly the least he could do.
You know that having Nathaniel's hands on your breasts wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world to ever have happened to you.
A tingle of arousal spreads through me at the memory of Nathaniel's warm hands cupping my breasts, at the way my nipples immediately hardened in response to his calloused palms, at the heat that rushed through my body at his touch.
He really was doing you a favor by donating his ranch, and besides, he made the donation before the charity event, which means it had nothing to do with what happened.
Even so, the way he said it – “I was doing you a favor” – got under my skin.
He did pay a hundred thousand dollars to get rid of those photographs.
But getting rid of the photos of Nathaniel groping me was definitely in his self-interest. It was hardly just a gentlemanly gesture. Photos like that could ruin his career, especially if he's trying to stay away from negative press. The thought of those pictures making their way into the newspapers makes me shudder. I can't even imagine the scandal that would cause for me and him - and for my father.
Still, the two of them also talked about competing for me, like I'm some kind of prize at the county fair. The very idea of two men fighting for me is the dumbest, most lame-ass macho thing I've ever heard.
Right. That's exactly why you fantasized about it the other night - because it's just so lame.
I try my best to shove the thoughts out of my head. What I need to do is focus on work. Obsessing over two athletes who seem to have a knack for making me lose my cool is the last thing on Earth I need to be doing.
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