One Night A Real Man - Jenika Snow Page 0,2

was to get between her thighs. And that was never going to fucking happen.

I didn’t even try to hide the fact that I’d let a growl out, like I was some kind of territorial animal. But where Leila was concerned, I was possessive of her. I wanted her time, her attention, every single aspect of her as only mine. It was selfish, given the fact that we were just friends, but there was no way I could try to stop myself.

It was this feeling inside me that consumed every single inch of my body, going right down to my very DNA. I couldn’t have stopped how I felt, how I acted with her, even if my life depended on it. I strode back to the table, or more accurately, stalked toward them.

My focus was trained right on the clearly inebriated man who was now leaning over the table, his hands braced on the top, his face far too close to Leila’s for my liking.

She was leaned back as far as she could, clearly not liking his close proximity. So when I was right next to him, I didn’t even stop myself from reaching out and curling my fingers around his arm, forcing him back, and feeling pride when he stumbled backward. His eyes went wide, as he was clearly surprised by my sudden actions.

I let another low growl leave me and saw the way his throat worked, his flight-or-fight instantly going to flight mode. I was bigger than him, stronger. But he was smart, even while drunk, because he mumbled his apologies, that he didn’t know she was taken.

She’s mine.

Those two words played through my head over and over again.

I watched him the whole time he moved farther from us, made sure he was far enough away for my liking before I finally turned my attention to Leila. She looked at me with wide eyes, although I knew it wasn’t a surprise how I acted. I’d been going all caveman since the first time we met.

I chalked it up to being an overly protective best friend, someone who was just “looking out for her.” And of course that was the truth as well, but it was also because I was selfish of her, wanted her for only myself.

Because I’d wanted her as mine for longer than I’d ever admit.

I sat down, and I knew I had a scowl on my face. It wasn’t directed at her. I was jealous and annoyed by that drunken asshole.

Normally, the testosterone was flowing heavily though me, especially when I thought about Leila. But I’d had a couple beers already, and that meant it was really fucking potent in my veins, my possessive, territorial need for her off the fucking charts.

I was insanely jealous when it came to Leila.

“Please don’t tell me you’re grumpy all of a sudden because some drunk came over and thought he actually had a chance.” She was definitely tipsy. I could tell by the rosiness in her cheeks.

I shrugged. I had nothing to say, because I was grumpy, but not because of the drunk. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her why my attitude had soured so fast.

I looked over at the little asshole who’d been talking to her. He moved on to his next potential piece of ass, and the growl left me again. I felt Leila looking at me, but instead of saying anything—because honestly, I should’ve been embarrassed by the way I was acting—I reached out for the shot sitting in the center of the table and downed it. I gestured for the waitress to bring another round. If Leila was going to get drunk, then so was I.

We could be sloppy and irresponsible together tonight.

I glanced at her and saw she still watched me, this curiosity on her face.

“Are you gonna tell me why you wanted to come out tonight and why you’re tossing back the liquor?” She glanced away, and I knew it had to be something that would probably piss me off if she was clamming up the way she was. “Leila, I want to know what’s going on. The fact that you don’t want to tell me lets me know it’s probably going to piss me off.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and the waitress had time to come back and set two more shots down in front of us. I picked mine up and tossed it back, and Leila did the same a second later. Then she exhaled,