Page 116 of Run to Me

“Pfft. Hell no,” Lucy says, chuckling. “You’ll see what happens when Rock gets on a dance floor.”

“Sounds intriguing.” Tatum adjusts her pink sequined dress when she stands from the vanity bench. Her dress isn’t as short as Lucy’s, but it’s just as tight and shows off her pregnant belly. “Should we be concerned?”

Lucy smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischievousness. Something tells me Rock’s possessiveness will be put to the test, and he’ll be hauling her out of the bar over his shoulder before the night ends. They’re certainly the most entertaining couple I’ve ever met.

“The only person we should be concerned about is Jensen when he sees Maisy in this outfit,” she teases.

My short, gold halter dress is backless and has a plunging neckline that reveals ample cleavage. With my curls piled on my head, I’m showing a lot of skin. Maybe too much. Add the sparkly stiletto heels that make me four inches taller, and I feel like a bombshell, ready to flaunt what I own.

Capping my tube of signature lipstick, Murdered Merlot, I smack my lips and say, “Let’s do this, ladies.”

The moment we walk through the door, Jensen’s piercing gaze caresses every inch of me. From behind the bar, he eyes me while filling a pint glass with beer, and I can imagine all the scenarios happening in his mind. I toss him a cheeky wink—a promise for later—earning a smile from him.

I’m impressed by the transformation of Bruno’s. The staff went all out to make the bar feel like a club. Low lighting with colorful strobes, tables moved aside to make more space for dancing, a DJ’s bass beats vibrating off the walls. Tatum must be in heaven.

When Rock and Jake appear, she grabs Jake by the hand and drags him to the dance floor. The rest of us follow and lose ourselves in the music. Jake and Tatum bop around with big grins on their faces despite his lack of rhythm. She loves to dance, and he loves her, so he’ll happily go along with whatever her heart desires.

Rock promised to give Lucy some space to enjoy herself, so he stands within three feet of her at all times. On occasion, she uses him as a stripper pole, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too busy glaring daggers at every man within a ten-foot perimeter while Lucy drops, dips, and grinds against his statuesque form.

I’m content dancing alone, pushing away from a couple of brave souls who come up behind me. Jensen and I steal glances at one another, and I bite back a smile when I picture him abandoning his post to dance. I’d pay money to watch him swivel his hips while fully dressed.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to find Peyton Riggs, of all people, smiling down at me. I haven’t seen him—or thought about him—since high school. He made himself scarce after Jensen pinned him to a locker and threatened his life.

“I heard you were back in town,” Peyton says, loud enough for his voice to carry over the music.

“For a minute,” I say, my lips curving into a coy smile.

He leans in closer. “How many seconds of that minute are you willing to spend on me?” Gag.

Faking a giggle, I peek at Jensen, who’s watching us with a blank expression on his face, though his eyes blaze. It’s not jealousy in his penetrating stare; it’s protectiveness. He remembers the game Peyton tried to play with me.

Embarking on my own game of revenge, I spin to face Peyton and say, “How about a dance? That’s more than I’d give anyone else.”

He grins, broad and victorious, certain this night will end in his favor. It won’t. He twirls me around and grabs my waist, gyrating his hips while spouting nonsense in my ear like, “How is it possible you’re sexier now than you were in high school,” and “I notice you don’t have a ring on your finger. Lucky me.” It’s cute how he thinks he stands a chance.

I allow him to regale me with his sloppy dance moves and lame pickup lines. When I roll my eyes at his comment about my “banging body,” they connect with Jensen’s. One corner of his mouth quirks up, amused by the show I’m putting on for him.

Having reached my limit with Peyton’s boorish commentary, I rise on my tiptoes and put my lips next to his ear, lowering my voice to a seductive purr. “Thanks for the entertainment. I love a man who makes me laugh, and it’s good to know you’re still a joke.” I pat his chest and walk away, pleased with the baffled, yet annoyed, expression on his face.

I’m not surprised to find Jensen leaning against the wall when I exit the ladies’ room. However, I am surprised when he walks me backward into his office and shuts the door without turning on any lights, cloaking us in darkness. He spins me so I’m facing the door and cages me in with my back to his chest.

“Did you have fun toying with me, birdie?” he whispers, ghosting his lips along my ear.

“I always enjoy teasing you.”

“Were you trying to make me jealous?”

The answer is no, but I can’t resist asking, “Did it work?”

“Not at all. Because I know something Peyton doesn’t know.” He lightly trails his hands down my waist, showering me with sparks, and squeezes my ass. “These sinful curves belong to me.” He cups me firmly between my legs, a finger stroking me through my panties. “This perfect pussy belongs to me.” The other hand glides to my chest and settles over my left breast, his pinky brushing my nipple. “This fierce, beating heart has always belonged to me.”

I tremble, my panting breaths coming faster as I sag against the door in a helpless heap of desire. He slides the hand on my breast upward and wraps it around my throat like an anchor holding me in place. I reward him with a needy whimper.

His low, satisfied chuckle vibrates through me, intensifying my shudder as he continues stroking my slit. “Have fun dancing with your friends. Tempt all the men with this unholy dress. Because when we get home, I’m tearing it from your body and laying you on the table like a feast of the finest cuisine. Prepare yourself for a long night ahead, birdie. Your man is quite famished.”

Holy. Hot. Damn.

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