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I make it halfway there before Scotty tugs on my arm to get my attention. Already knowing he’s about to tell me I have to go home; I roll my eyes. I’m not a child. Damnit. I’m a grown adult that can have a drink at a bar without begging “Daddy” to let me stay out late.
“Not tonight, bro. We gotta get back before Saoirse has my balls,” Scotty yells over the blaring music.
I shake my head. “I’m staying. You head back.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea, Dec.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. His brown eyes bore into mine, soft and caring. Empathic. And the last thing I need from him is empathy.
“I’m staying, bro,” I say, heading back toward the bar.
“There you are!” A hand tugs at my elbow, pulling my attention away from my end goal straight ahead.
I turn, eyes falling on a woman with dark hair. Her bright golden eyes watch me, a hint of hope tracing them as she offers me a tight smile. My gaze travels along her body. Short black dress, thick thighs, and high heels that make have the top of her head hitting around my eyes. She’s short, but damn, does she look good in this dress. I travel back to make eye contact, noticing how her shoulders seem tense, her grip on me tightening. She’s uncomfortable, despite the weird as hell conversation we’re having together right now.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, babe,” she says, her head jerking in the opposite direction.
I turn my gaze to where she’s pointing, a man standing right beside her, his hand on his ass. Slowly, my mind makes the connection. She’s pretending I’m her boyfriend, so this jackass gets lost. My top lip turns up in a snarl, willing to play. Because one thing I hate worse than the leaders of organized crime are rapists. No means no, and I’ll fucking remind anyone who needs it.
“Everything okay?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the man in front of me.
The woman’s nails dig into my elbow, almost as if she’s willing me to read her mind, to know what’s bothering her. “Yeah, fine,” she says over the blaring music. “I was just telling this guy I didn’t want the drink he bought me. That my boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate me taking it.”
My gaze drops to the mixed drink in his hand. Well, she’s smart not to take an open drink from a stranger. Maybe if it had come straight from the bar, but not from the hands of someone offering, where it could be tampered with. I wrap my arm around her waist, tugging her into me, and fuck if my body doesn’t enjoy the way she molds right into my side. Her floral scent permeates me, despite being in a crowded room with sweaty bodies. There’s a part of her dress that’s bare in the back, and my hand meets her heated flesh.
“Oh, sorry,” the guy says. “I’ll just go somewhere else.”
He turns to leave, to find someone else he can drug, no doubt. But Scotty stops him, his hand gripping the collar of his shirt. “What’s in the drink?” Scotty asks.
“N-nothing,” he says, eyes darting away as his body tenses.
Scotty pats his pockets, pulling out a plastic baggy of little white pills. He holds it between his fingers, waving the baggie for me to see. I tilt my head toward the staircase. “Take him to Rossi.”
Scotty grabs him by the scruff of his neck and drags him away. The woman clinging to me sags in relief, and I glance down. Her dark hair is pulled into a half-up style, curls fall around her face. “Thank you,” she says, squeezing my forearm.
I nod, moving my hand from her back to her wrist. Dragging her away, I get us into the hall where the bathrooms are, where it’s quieter. “You, okay?” I ask, giving her a once over. There are no markings on her body, safe for the slight nick of a line on her throat. It’s straight, no longer than half an inch, and an old one judging how its two shades paler than her tanned skin.
She nods, pressing her hand to her throat. She catches her breath, her eyes closed. “Yeah. I’m fine, now. He just made me uncomfortable. You were the first guy I saw that seemed alone, so I approached you. Thank you, again.”
My fingers entwine with the hand I’m holding, and I drop my head so that our foreheads are practically touching. Her breath slows down, and I close my eyes, taking in the sweet scent of her. She’s older, but seems so innocent, her wide eyes giving away that she’s nervous. Or maybe she’s still rattled from a pervert trying to date rape her. Either way, my presence appears to unsettle her.
It won’t stop me from crowding her space. Anything I give her would be consensual, but the need to make her squirm runs deep inside of me. And she squirms, her throat clearing. My eyes drift to the way her throat bobs. She’s nervous. She’s run from one predator to another. I may not hurt her in the ways that piece of shit would have, but if she let me, I’ll hurt her in other ways. Push on her wounds until she screams. It’s been so long since I’ve had that desire.
“You . . . ” She clears her throat again, her chest heaving. “Do you . . . want to . . . dance?”
There’s a hint of red staining her round cheeks, and I chuckle, enjoying the way I make her uneasy. Two minutes ago, she felt confident enough, safe enough to approach me and pretend I was her boyfriend. Now, she’s not sure if she’s just made the biggest mistake of her fucking life. She’ll be fun to chase, that’s for sure.
“Sure,” I say.
I grab her hand, dragging her back onto the dance floor. The music grows in volume as we approach the center of the floor. Her ass presses against me, right up against my pelvis, warming my cock. Her hips sway to the beat, and I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tighter. She’s stuck with me now. I’m not letting her go.
Chapter Four
Themusicblaresthroughoutthe club while I carry a vodka tonic with lime toward the dance floor. Veronica thrashes her head around wildly, as if we’re in the middle of a mosh pit, and not an overcrowded club where disco tunes blare at an unhealthy level for my old ears.
The man who saved me from a shitfest earlier still follows me around, but I can’t complain, because he’s been buying my drinks since. His palm rests on my hip as I stop near Veronica.
We watch as a man takes a risk, moving in behind her. His hands grip her hips, and he accidentally gets knocked back by her elbow. I laugh, enjoying the scene as he lets go of her to cover his now bleeding nose. She turns around, hands clasped to her mouth, and stares with wide eyes as he backs away. One of his buddies grabs him by the elbow, dragging him off the dance floor.
“Nice dance moves!” I shout over the blaring stereos.
