AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"No, I don't. But I—"
Westin placed Douglas down on his feet and glowered at him. "Don't touch. Matter of fact, stay very far away from her, understand?"
Douglas did not understand, and he tried to shove at Westin, who didn't budge at all. Douglas shoved again, and he ended up stumbling backward onto his arse, which sent half the pub into uproarious laughter. Westin glanced at the table of Douglas's mates and cocked his head. "He yours?"
The two lads who'd been laughing at Douglas nodded and came jogging over. "Yeah, mate, we'll take him."
"Yeah, don't let me see him here again; otherwise, I won't be so pleasant."
Both of them widened their eyes and nodded profusely. They could sense the threat even if Douglas couldn't.
"Oh my God, did you have to make a scene?" I whispered harshly.
Even Jamila and Adam were glancing over the crowd from their spot in the middle of the dance floor.
Westin glowered. "Maybe you forgot what my job is."
He picked up the beer he'd apparently sat on a nearby table, and then someone jostled him from behind and it all happened in slow motion. The surprise expression on his face, the beer sloshing out of his mug, and my subsequent alarm as the ice cold liquid poured out in my direction.
His beer spilled all over me. Liquid slid down the front of my top, between my breasts into my bra, and oh joy, there it went down to my belly button. I wondered if maybe it hadn't been on purpose.
"Damn it!"
He whirled around, and it was a drunken girl who held up both hands in apology. "Sorry, not so steady on my heels now."
Westin rolled his eyes. When his gaze met mine, he frowned and then let his eyes rove down.
His eyes darkened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. When his gaze snapped back up to my eyes, he growled. "Jesus, cover up, would you?"
"Me? You were the one who just spilled beer on me, what the hell?"
All he did was sigh and then proceeded to start unbuttoning his shirt.
I blinked at him, glancing around rapidly. "What are you doing?"
"I can't let you walk around like that. Everyone can see your nipples."
I gasped then quickly wrapped my arms around my front and middle. "How the hell was I supposed to know that I couldn't wear a demi-cupped bra? I didn't expect to be in a wet T-shirt contest."
He just cleared his throat. "Put this on."
The problem was, as he handed me his shirt, all I could do was stare at the epic display of muscles. London was having unseasonably warm weather still into September, which was shocking. And I wasn't mad at it at all, except, what the hell was he going to wear home?
I must have stood there gawking for several seconds because he cleared his throat and said, "If you’ve looked your fill, put the bloody shirt on."
I glowered at him. "And what are you going to wear?"
"Me shirtless might get some stares, but it's not going to stop fucking traffic. So cover the fuck up."
"You're the one who spilled on me."
"Put it on. We’re leaving."
"This is Jamila and Adam's night. I'm not leaving."
"Yes you are," he said calmly.
I glowered at him. "You can't make me."
