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On her way back to the table, she was suddenly stopped in her tracks by a tall, stocky man looming over her. She swallowed hard when she realized it wasn’t Blaze or Asher. This guy was at least ten years her senior, and his breath smelled of bourbon.
“‘Scuse me,” Giselle mumbled, and tried to push past him.
He blocked her path with his outstretched arms, smirking down at her.
“You look like a movie star. Where d’you think you’re going?” he slurred.
“Back to my table,” she said. “Let me through.”
“Don’t run off so quickly now. Can I get your autograph or something? Maybe your number?” he added with a wink.
Giselle wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks. My dates are waiting.”
“Dates? Plural? Where are they? I’ll fight ‘em both,” the guy spat.
“I would advise against that, pal,” growled Blaze from directly behind him.
The man whipped around, fists raised, only to stumble backward when he saw Blaze and Asher waiting for him with blazing hot fury in their eyes. Giselle darted past him, and Asher put his arm around her protectively. The man slunk back with his palms turned out in surrender, and didn’t say another word. People stared and whispered as the three of them marched out of the restaurant together.
Giselle’s heart pounded. They stepped into the fresh night air and turned down the side of the building to a slightly secluded street. She was acutely aware of Asher’s arms around her body, his fingertips on her bare shoulders. He gently pressed her back against the clean white brick of the building, his hands resting on her shoulders to steady her as both men peered down at her closely.
“Are you alright?” Asher asked.
“What did that fucker say to you?” Blaze hissed.
“He was just drunk. Hitting on me, mouthing off,” she sighed.
“Nobody gets to treat you like that,” Blaze murmured gruffly.
“If he had laid a hand on you…” Asher trailed off. He dropped his own arms and stepped back, as though suddenly realizing he was the one touching her. But Giselle instantly missed his touch. She was drunk, and she was desperate to relieve some of the tension aching in her soul.
“Don’t worry, I can handle myself,” Giselle remarked.
“That guy was at least a foot taller than you,” Blaze said. “Though I still could’ve snapped him like a board.”
“Oh yeah? You’re that strong?” she egged him on, biting her lip.
Lust burned in his blue eyes when he grabbed her wrists with one hand and pinned them over her head, his body mere inches from hers. Giselle gasped with delight and met his gaze.
“Even stronger,” he growled.
His lips were so close to her own. He could kiss her so easily.
But instead, he let her go and pulled away, swearing under his breath. Giselle giggled and batted her lashes at Asher. He was staring at her with his jaw tight, his eyes drinking her in with such ferocity it was as intimate as touch. She felt powerful, knowing what her body did to them. It went both ways. They wanted her, too, and now she was sure of it.
“Come on,” Asher murmured thickly. “Let’s get you a cab.”
“Already ordering one,” said Blaze, with his phone out.
Giselle pouted. “I don’t want to go home alone.”
“You’re drunk, Giselle. We’ll escort you to your house, and you’ll go inside by yourself, okay? When you get there, you’re going to wash off that gorgeous makeup, brush your teeth, and go to bed,” instructed Asher, leading her to the curb as the taxi rolled up.
“Fine,” she mumbled as they piled into the backseat, with Giselle in the middle again.
As soon as her back hit the seat, she felt heavy. Sleepy. The wine was catching up to her. When the cab started moving, the vibrations of the car lulled her into a doze. She rested her head on Blaze’s shoulder, but her hand slowly moved across her lap to lace with Asher’s hand.
It felt like only moments later that Asher gently nudged her awake.
