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Professor Goode
This was not my scene. It was loud and obnoxious, crowded and hot. The age group for the Olive seemed to be eighteen to twenty-five.
I was out of place. Tossing back shots and grinding with sorority girls had never been something I participated in, not even when I fit in with this age group.
I was here for one reason, one person.
Grace.
As I scanned the club, looking for her, I felt my body tighten further. I didn’t like her here. I didn’t want her here. The amount of testosterone in this place, inhibitions lowered because of the alcohol flowing, would put her in a position that wasn’t safe.
I knew what guys thought about, what they wanted to do. They had one thing on their mind and that was getting in the pants of a girl with her inhibitions down. And although Grace was smart and I hoped wouldn’t fall for that shit, there were plenty of assholes who didn’t know when to stop.
I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides as I moved through the club, pushing my way past people dancing, all but having sex together. The very thought of some bastard putting his hands on Grace, touching her when she was mine, had impatience and anger filling me.
I stopped at the bar and looked around, the place so crowded I couldn’t even breathe.
Although I didn’t see her immediately, I wasn’t about to give up. She was here, I could feel it. Or maybe it was my need to protect her, even from herself, from her friends, that had me wanting to be the one to rescue her.
I wanted to be her knight in fucking shining armor.
I turned and looked in the other direction, scanning back in the corner, where the tables were slightly shrouded by the shadows, only intermittent flashes of light piercing it.
And then I saw Grace, sitting at a table with her friend and the guy that had been at the coffee shop. They were currently involved in a passionate kiss, her friend all but sitting on his lap.
But Grace wasn’t paying attention to them. She had her focus on the dance floor, and even from a distance I could see how pink her cheeks were, how glossy her eyes were.
She was drunk.
I straightened from the bar, knowing that storming up to her probably wasn’t the best plan but wanting to do just that, to pull her against my body, to tell her I was taking her out of here.
A rush of people came to the bar, blocking my path to her. And then I could see a guy walk up to Grace, lean down and say something softly. She shook her head and smiled, embarrassment covering her expression. He said something again and straightened, the smile he wore cocky.
He held out his hand to her. Grace looked behind her at her friend, but she’d get no help there. And when she looked back at him, his grin spread.
She slipped her hand into his and he helped her stand, leading her out to the dance floor. The song changed to something more sexual, and I narrowed my eyes and clenched my jaw as I watched him wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close to his body.
I’d break his hands for touching her.
I growled low, the vibrations in my throat the only thing that let me know the sound had spilled free. I couldn’t even hear myself think in this fucking place.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway because all I could think about, focus on, was getting to Grace … getting that fucker away from her.
ChapterSeven
Grace
He was sweaty, and he smelled like beer. It was gross, and I felt slightly uncomfortable. He started grinding up on me, and I instantly regretted agreeing to dance with him. The feel of his erection digging against my belly, the feel and smell of his humid, beer-laced breath on my neck had me all but gagging.
This felt so wrong.
But he’d seemed nice as he held his hand out, looked kind of pathetic begging me for just one dance. I should’ve gone with my instinct and told him no, kept my resolve. But here I was, regretting every moment of it, thinking of how to get out of the situation.
I wasn’t really even dancing and instead grabbed his hands to push them away from my hips. He leaned in and the feel of his hot, wet breath on the side of my neck had me scrunching up my nose.
“I should probably go,” I said loud enough for him to hear, all but shouting the words. He didn’t hear me or wasn’t listening. He added pressure to my hips and pulled me closer until I felt how hard he was.
That’s when survival kicked in.
