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The guy hauls me back up to my feet, and I sniffle as my eyes take in the black leather jacket open over a hard chest covered in a black t-shirt. My eyes continue up over a thick, corded neck—guy works out.When they finally land on his face, my heart does a quick stutter-step in my chest.
Cash Jagger.
I shoulda stuck with the broken nose.
He peers down at me with a cool edge that almost makes me shiver. With pure stubbornness, I fight the shiver and lift my chin. He doesn’t crack a grin.
Sucking in air, I mutter, “Thanks.” Then, burning eyes pinned forward, I make to move away.
He catches me by the back of the shirt again, pulling me back. I stumble, because who wouldn’t? “Quit that!” I hiss, slapping at his arm. “It’s rude and you’re going to wreck my shirt.”
“You good?” The way he asks isn’t just a simple ask. It’s a demand for full transparent exposure I have no intention of giving.
No. Bloody. Chance.
“I’m fine,” I snap. And, okay, it’s rude in a way I try not to be rude. But my head is starting to pound, the guy has tripped me once and grabbed my shirt twice, and I’ve onlyjustsaved myself from the chopping block. I’m exhausted, because nothing drains an introvert quite like working all night in a club full of wild people determined to let loose to the sound of a rough rock band. And—I’m still on the verge of tears because I have no idea how I’m going to make my rent this month if I’m not working weekends.
“Touchy.”
Is he grinning?I don’t care. “Not in the mood.”
In the dark shadows of the hall, he raises one dark brow. Then he pushes off the wall he’d been leaning lazily against to swagger toward me. When he gets close, I expect, like a normal person, he’ll stop moving. Only, he doesn’t. He keeps crowding in, crowding closer, forcing me to take a stumbling step back. He catches me a third time, his big hand in my belly as it pushes me back into the wall.
I gasp, shocked stupid by his invasive maneuver as I tip my head back, gaping up at him. My palms connect with his big, hard chest, forcing him to keep his distance.
Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? This man could snap my arms in two if the desire struck him. Next to him, I’m a twig.
“Look at you,” he rumbles roughly. For a moment,I want to ask how many packs of smokes he sucks back a day.One doesn’t get his voice by being good to their lungs, do they?“All claws and teeth.” He dips his head to growl that husky low voice against my ear. “You know, you could have just tossed me your panties.”
My brows snap high as my breaths begin to race—in anger.
Who does this guy think he is?“My what?”
“Panties. Saw the way you rolled your eyes when that chick threw me hers.” I tense when he leans in even closer, crowding me with the scent of man and cigar and whiskey and sweet sweat. I push harder into his chest. “I’d have kept yours. Shown you a good time for your effort, too.”
“You’re disgusting,” I manage through my shock. “Is this seriously how you pick up women?” I shove harder into the brick wall of him. “Fuck off.”
He studies me through clear, uninfused with alcohol, eyes.
This man is dangerous. I sense it suddenly, surely as a rabbit senses its impending demise in the sightline of a wolf. He’s an alpha, and I’m just the prey.
“You want to be picked up? Want me to pretend I’m a gentleman before I fuck your pretty little brains out?”
“Oh. My. God.” I twist my head to the side, so I won’t have to look at him. Thankfully, I’m not close to tears anymore. Now, I’m all anger. “You’re a pig, andI’m so far from interested in spending any time with you, I don’t even have words.”
“You sure? I can give you things. Orgasms that’ll blow your goddamned mind. Good times. Connections into this city’s entertainment world.” His eyes sweep my face. “You want to be an actress?”
What. The. Actual.Hell?
“No. All I want from you is to escape.” I grit my teeth and give another good shove. “Now, back off.”
He pulls back suddenly, the shock of his quick absence alarming as I slump against the wall, my eyes still guarded for whatever freak stunt this asshole thinks to pull next.
“I had to be sure.”
What?I shake my head, confusion and annoyance plastered clear on my face. Still, I decide I don’t want to continue doing—whatever we’re doing—as I push off the wall. “I’m done. Find someone else for,” I wave my hand between us. “Whatever this is.”
“There’s no one else.” His words stop me, and I twist to glare back at him. He moves in close again, but he doesn’t crowd me against the wall as he says, “You don’t want to fuck me. Won’t try to make plays for a heart I can’t give you. You’re perfect.”
