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He kissed her cheek. “I want to dance with my beautiful wife,” he said.
“Please, may I put my hosiery back on, Sir?” she asked sweetly.
“No.”
“David, I’m drenched, I don’t want to mark my dress,” she confided quietly.
“I expect every woman in this room is in much the same state. It will be interesting to note the scent of arousal on the dance floor.” He stood and held out his hand to her.
“You are such a bad man, Mr. Forrester!” she told him, placing her palm in his. He winked at her.
“Yup, but I’m a happily married man,” he told her with a grin.
They danced three slow dances but then he excused himself to go and use the facilities. Penny waited for him, leaning against the wall of their booth. She watched the other couples dance, deeply wrapped up in her own thoughts as she imagined each couple engaged in the activities she and David had enjoyed during the floor show.
“Penny, right?”
She startled at the sound of her name on another man’s tongue. Turning, she recognised Matt.
“Oh, hello!”
She was surprised to see him there and even more shocked when he grabbed her arm and tugged her onto the dance floor.
“Are you a dirty girl, Penny?” he slurred as he wrapped his body around hers. Realising he was extremely drunk, she pushed hard against his chest.
“Let me go, David is here with me... let me go, Matt!”
“We can d-ditch him,” he said, his breath full of whiskey fumes.
Panic rose, her throat closed up. She shoved at him but he held her in a vise-like grip while he edged her toward the exit. She stamped down hard on his foot. He slammed his mouth onto hers and kissed her, bruising her lips against the sharp cut of his teeth. It was a rough attempt to subdue her, a kiss given without love or passion with too much wet and stale breath; overpowering and disgusting.
The close proximity of his body foiled her attempt to bring up her knee. Struggling desperately in his hold, she managed to tear her lips from his and turn her face sideways to avoid his sour alcohol-laden breath.
Her eyes widened as David’s furious face filled her vision. Staggering backwards, she found herself suddenly released. Everything happened so fast it was a blur. One moment Matt was upright and the next he lay groaning on the floor holding the side of his face that David had punched.
David shook his right hand and rubbed his knuckles.
Their waiter and two other men dressed in dark suits arrived and helped Matt onto his feet. A brunette came bustling over to them, her face tight, eyes narrowed.
“What’s going on? I was in the toilette,” she told nobody in particular.
Two of the suited retainers wore earpieces. One of them spoke to the brunette in halting English.
“Mademoiselle, vous avec l’homme, are not wel-come ‘ere.”
“He is trying to say you and your jerk of a date are leaving,” David told the woman. He turned his back on them and slipped a protective arm about Penny’s shoulders.
She watched as Matt, followed by his dazed date, were removed from the club.
“Penny?” She turned her head in the direction her name was called.
David curved his palm around the back of her neck and gently drew her to him, his forehead lowered to hers, touching her skin.
“Who’s your Sir?” he growled softly.
Wide-eyed, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “You are,” she answered.
“So who’s your daddy?” he asked huskily.
