Tease

The next day.

The fashion show.

I'm standing in the wings, watching as the models walk out onto the runway, one by one, showing off the new designs. I can't help feeling a little possessive as I watch, my eyes fixed on the stage, scanning the models carefully.

It's weird, and I know it's stupid, but I can't help feeling just a little bit envious as I watch each model strut down the runway. My eyes keep scanning the line of girls in their designer clothes, searching for a familiar face.

It ain't until she walks out onto the stage that I let out a long, low sigh of relief.

There she is. There's my girl. My darlin'. My sweetheart. And there she is, walkin' down that damn runway in front of all those other people... Lookin' so beautiful and sexy and damn well perfect, all dressed up in the clothes, wearin' a little bit of makeup, her hair done up all nice and fancy, strutting down that catwalk like she was a goddamn angel.

My heart damn near skips a beat in my chest, seeing her up there under those bright stage lights, walking in those high heeled shoes.

Damn, it's hard not to just run up there and throw her over my shoulder, claiming her as mine, right in front of all these damn strangers.

But instead of doing that, I grip the railing in front of me, my fists clenching and unclenching as I watch her walk across the stage.

Damn it, she's so goddamn beautiful. So damn cute. And all those other damn people are looking at her, seeing her walking up there on that stage. Ain't no goddamn way I'm lettin' them all stare at her like that. She's mine. Every last damn bit of her.

As the show goes on, I can feel an all-too-familiar possessive heat rising in my veins, my heart beating faster and faster with every step she takes on that stage, knowing damn well that every damn stranger in the room was looking at her. Even though she'd said she was gonna be back, how the hell was I supposed to know that? Maybe she got distracted by somethin', maybe she changed her mind, maybe she had another damn well pretty girl come up to her backstage, maybe she just decided to keep on walking until she was out the damned door.

Finally, finally, the show ends, the crowd in the room erupting in cheering and applause as the last model leaves the stage, leaving the area empty and quiet.

I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to calm my damn nerves. She'd be back soon. She'd promised that she'd come back, that she'd come right back into my arms as soon as the show was over.

My eyes are fixed on the door to the backstage, my whole body tense with anticipation. Any minute now. She'd come out of that door and come straight to me. Any damn minute, she'd come into my arms and let me hold her again, and I could stop freakin' out over every little damn thing. I watch as the models begin walking out of backstage, heading off to get changed or back to their dressing rooms, but there's one face that I don't see.

Damn, where the hell is she? My heart gives a little jump as the first trickle of worry starts to set in. What if somethin' happened to her? What if she's caught up talkin' to one of the other models or something? Maybe she got distracted by something in the backstage room. But no, she'd promised that she'd come straight to me after the show, and she hadn't broken a promise yet. I was damn well just bein' paranoid, that was all. She'd come out of that back door any damn moment.

I can feel my anxiety rising with every minute that passes, her absence making my heart beat faster and my hands clench into fists in my pockets. Damn it. Where in the hell was she? It'd been minutes now, and she still hadn't stepped foot through that damn door. Why the hell wouldn't she be out here yet? Maybe she really was just caught up in something back there. Maybe she was talkin' to another model. My brain kept coming up with dozens of possible explanations, each one sounding more reasonable in my head.

I try to shake off the feeling, convincing myself that I was just bein' paranoid, that she was fine and she was coming. My mind kept jumping between the most rational explanations and the darkest, most terrifying scenarios. I'd just about convinced myself that something had happened when the back door swung open and she stepped out into the room.

My heart damn near skipped a beat seeing her walk out from backstage, my body immediately relaxing and releasing a sigh of relief.

There she was.

She was fine.

Nothing had happened to her, she was as beautiful and perfect as ever. She didn't look worried, she didn't look upset, and she didn't look injured. She was completely, totally unharmed. And she was lookin' right at me, a smile on her face as she walked towards me.

For the first time in the last few minutes, my heart finally started to slow down a bit, the anxiety that was pounding through me finally starting to fade just a little. Damn, I'd been all worked up for nothing, worryin' like some kind of damn baby. She was alright, she was fine, and now she was coming to me, her eyes locked on mine as she walked across the room. Damn, I felt stupid now.

She stopped in front of me, her eyes meeting mine with a soft, almost mischievous look on her face. "You were worried, weren't you?"

Damn, damn it all to hell. How the hell did she know that? How had she read me so damn well again? I try to act cool, refusing to admit that I had been absolutely freakin' out in here, waiting for her to show up.

"What? Me worried?" I said, trying to keep my voice casual, tryin' to ignore how damn well she could read me. "Nah, darlin'. I wasn't worryin' at all. I was just, you know... hangin' out. Minding my own goddamn business. You were the one taking forever to get out of backstage, remember?"

She laughs, shaking her head at my attempt to play it off. She knows damn well that I'd been worryin' over her every move, that I'd been goin' crazy waitin' around for her to show up. She's just too damn good at reading me, can practically read my mind like a damn open book. "Right," she drawls, a little smirk playing on her lips. "And you weren't all jealous of the other models on stage with me, either, were you?"

I felt my face heat a little as she called me out, even though I knew damn well she was right. "Jealous, me? Darlin'," I protested, though there was a hint of truth to her words. "Why on hell would I care about any of the other models? They ain't the one that's mine, after all..."

She laughs again, that same little grin on her face, like she's perfectly aware of the effect she has on me. "Uh huh. 'Course you weren't jealous," she responds, her voice playful. "You were just standin' around, cool as a cucumber, while I was struttin' around on stage all dolled up and perfect for the whole world to look at. That's why you had that look of relief on your face when I finally got out of backstage, yeah? Cause you were definitely not worried, right?"

Damn it. She really was too damn perceptive, wasn't she? She'd read me like a damn book. All my attempts to act cool and casual were absolutely useless. She could see right through me. I let out a sigh, giving up trying to hide the truth. "Alright, fine... maybe I was a little damn worried. You were taking forever, and I was startin' to get pretty damn concerned."

An amused grin spread across her face as I let out a defeated sigh, admitting that I'd been worryin' over her. She took a few steps closer to me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I knew it," she said, laughing softly. "You were freakin' out, weren't you? I could practically feel your anxiety from backstage. I could just imagine you over here, all tense and twitchy, just waiting for me to get back to ya."

I felt my face turn red at her words, my heart giving a little lurch as I cursed myself silently for being so damn obvious. I'd clearly been just as easy to read as a damn open book to her.

"Alright, alright," I said, trying to defend myself half-heartedly. "So I was just a little bit concerned. Sue me. I don't like it when you're gone, alright? And when you were takin' so damn long backstage, I just... couldn't help but worry about where you were. That's all."

Her smile widened as I confessed, looking even more amused at my attempts to downplay my concern and worry. "A little bit concerned, huh? Darlin', you looked like you were about to rip your own hair right outta your head, you looked so damn uptight and on edge. And don't even get me started on those death glares you were throwing at the other models on stage. You were practically growlin' at anyone who even looked in my direction."

I winced as she hit the nail on the head, damn well callin' out all the ways I'd given myself away, all the little signs that I'd been freakin' out. She'd clearly seen through every attempt I'd made to hide my worry and concern. I crossed my arms across my chest, trying to look less embarrassed.

"Can you blame me for worryin'?" I said, trying to sound slightly defensive. "I mean, you're mine. Of course I don't like the thought of anyone lookin' at you like that."

She grins even wider at my statement, clearly loving the fact that I'd been so damn possessive and jealous on her behalf. There was no use in tryin' to deny it, she could see the damn truth written all over my face. "I knew it," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "You were all hot and bothered, weren't you? All pissed off and possessive at the thought of the other models lookin' at me. You were just standin' here, thinkin' about how I belong to you and no one else."

Damn it, she was really enjoying tormentin' me, wasn't she? My entire face heats up as she points out that I was jealous and possessive, and goddamn is she ever right about it. I feel like I'm caught between bein' embarrassed and damn well turned on. "Yeah, yeah, alright," I say, my voice coming out all low and gruff. "So I was just a little bit jealous. Sue me. You're mine, darlin'. And I don't like it when other people get to look at you, alright?"

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling with humour as she can clearly see the effect her words are havin' on me. "Yeah, I could tell," she teases, enjoying this far too damn much. She spreads her arms for a hug. "Come here, you possessive freak."

I resist for a moment, tryin' to maintain my last few shreds of dignity, but damn it, I can't keep up the act for long. I let out a low growl, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, relishing the feel of her in my arms. "Damn it, woman," I growl, my voice muffled against her skin. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

She laughs again as I pull her against me, her arms winding around my back as she holds onto me tight. "It's just so damn fun gettin' you all riled up, darlin'," she drawls, her voice cheeky and playful. "You're all serious and tough, and then you get all possessive and jealous over me, and you turn into a damn growlin' caveman, and it's just too damn tempting not to tease you."

I grumble into her neck, grinnin' against her skin despite myself. Dang, she's got me wrapped around her damn finger and she knows it. "You really are tryin' to drive me crazy, ain't you," I say, the words coming out in a low rumble as I hold her tighter. "Damn little tease, you have any idea what you're doin' to me when you tease like this?"

She laughs again, clearly enjoying every damn second of this. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea," she says, her voice teasing and playful. She runs her hands up my back and into my hair, fingernails raking across my scalp as she speaks. "You get all tense and anxious and possessive, and you can't keep your hands off me. You get all caveman-like, and you start grumblin' and growlin' like you're about to mark your damn territory or somethin'."

Damn, she's got it exactly right. It's like she's got a damn window inside my mind, able to read every thought and feeling that's runnin' through my head. No matter how tough and cool I try to make myself look, she just sees right through me like damn glass.

I let out a low, frustrated moan as she runs her fingernails through my hair, my hands tightening their possessive grip on her hips. "Damn it, woman," I mutter into her neck. "You're too damn perceptive, you know damn well I'm all caveman when it comes to you."

She laughs again, continuing to enjoy how easy it is to rile me up. "Yeah, you are," she replies, still teasing. "You're all quiet and cool and collected until someone comes along and even thinks about touching me, and then you turn into a damn feral beast, like a damn alpha wolf, markin' his territory. I swear, you're so easy to read, it's ridiculous. I can practically see the steam comin' outta your ears whenever you get jealous. You're too damn cute, you know?"

Damn it, she's just too damn right. I grumble and growl, burying my face even further against her neck, feelin' the heat of shame and embarrassment at how easy she's able to read me. "I ain't cute," I mutter, my words coming out all muffled against her skin as I cling onto her tightly. "I'm tough and badass and hardcore, goddamnit."

She laughs, clearly not buying it at all. "Oh yeah?" She says, her voice still teasing. "Say that again when you're not clinging to me like a baby kaola. Cuz you sound an awful lot like a jealous puppy, darlin', if I'm bein' totally honest. A big, tough, alpha puppy."

I let out another low grumble, my face feeling like it's on fire damn it. She's got me pinned, and she knows it. I can't argue with a single damn word she's sayin', and it's damn well embarrassin' how easy it is for her to make me into a damn possessive puppy.

"Damn it," I mutter into her neck. "Stop makin' fun of me, woman. I'm not a damn puppy."