Tempted Heir (The Heirs #7) - Michelle Heard Page 0,1

my tender cheek. “He hit me.” The words sound weird, as if they don’t belong on my lips.

I feel Ryker tense, but before he can say anything else, the door to my room bursts open. The moment my eyes lock with Christopher’s, the bubble of shock pops. A sob escapes my lips, and I begin to shake my head, unable to believe what just happened.

Christopher grabs hold of me and wraps me against his chest. I gasp against his shirt, and my body begins to tremble. Lifting my arms, I fold them around his waist.

I can’t believe Josh hit me.

It’s absurd.

“I’ve got her,” I hear Christopher say to Ryker. “Go help Tristan get rid of Josh. Make sure that bastard leaves Trinity tonight.”

“Okay,” Ryker answers as he squeezes my shoulder, and moments later, I hear the door shut behind him.

Christopher has seen me at my worst, but this is… the lowest point of my life.

Another relationship went to hell because of my friendship with Christopher. Every guy I’ve dated felt threatened by him.

How do you explain to potential boyfriends that your best friend is a guy? No one can understand that, and it makes dating near impossible.

“I’m sorry,” Christopher murmurs, his arms tightening around me.

I shake my head, taking deep breaths of his earthy scent to help me calm down.

Pulling a little back, I use my fingers to wipe the tears from my cheeks. My breath quivers over my lips as I say, “It’s not your fault.” Shrugging, I can feel the tears building again. I take a couple of seconds to breathe through them. “It was bound to happen.”

Tonight was also not the first time Christopher beat up a guy because of me. It’s as if it’s becoming an unhealthy pattern. I meet a nice guy, and before I know it, he turns into a bastard who Christopher has to fight off.

I’m so done with it all. None of this is worth the chance of finding love.

Christopher moves his hand up to my face, his fingers brushing softly over my cheek. “I meant I’m sorry I didn’t react quicker.”

Glancing up, my eyes lock on his brown ones. They’re still dark with anger, and his mouth is set in a harsh line.

Again the shock of what happened vibrates through me. Unable to believe it, I whisper, “Josh actually hit me.”

Christopher’s hand slides behind my neck, and leaning down, he presses a kiss to my cheek. “He’s an asshole. Okay?”

Feeling Christopher’s tender kiss makes me feel small and vulnerable. All I want to do is hide in his arms where I know I’ll be safe. It feels as if the foundation my life has been built on has been shaken, and he’s the only stable thing left.

“Take a shower while I make coffee,” he says. When I don’t move, he takes hold of my hand and tugs me toward the ensuite bathroom. “Shower, Dash. Put on comfortable clothes. It will help you feel better.”

“Okay,” I whisper, while a foreign fragility strips me of my confidence.

God. I’m pathetic. One hit and I’m shaken to my core.

CHRISTOPHER

Dash looks like she’s about break at any moment. Beating the shit out of Josh didn’t help ease my anger one fucking bit.

The last thing I expected when I walked into the suite was for a guy to hit my best friend so damn hard, it sent her flying. I’m still stunned.

The image of Dash skidding over the floor flashes through my mind, and it makes me want to wrap her against my chest where no fucking guy can ever get to her again.

Rage burns in my chest, and unable to leave Dash to shower, I reach for her facial wipes. Pulling two from the pack, I begin to remove her blotchy make-up. With every wipe, it reveals her way too pale skin. Except for the fucking red mark on her cheek.

I should’ve killed the fucker instead of only beating him unconscious.

Fucking bastard.

I knew there was something off about him. I’ve warned Dash, but she always tries to see the good in people.

I’m angry at myself for letting Dash date the piece of shit. I should’ve listened to my gut and protected my friend.

Fuck.

She got hurt because I didn’t do anything.

When her face is clean, I pull her to the closet, and taking hold of a pair of sweatpants, I crouch before her. I get her to step out of the heels and then slide the pants up her legs and under the dress she’s wearing.

It has