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There is a drink in his hand. A crystal glass is holding scotch or whiskey. Guess my bodyguard needs something stiff down his throat. I hope it burns him, because this drinking version of Huan has a staring problem.
I keep my dancing partner in one spot so I can glare back.
I’ve caught you. Stop it. Don't be so obvious with your guarding.
He doesn’t care.
He looks as if he’s never seen before.
As if there is a fiery obsession inside him, and he is too agitated to keep it hidden. His eyes rove over the lines of my legs and neck and back and mouth.
He keeps looking.
“How long are you in London for?” the Camden representative asks in my ear.
“Not sure,” I answer, trying not to feel horrible. My body is on fire and it’s not because of him. It’s because of the man who is watching me from the shadows. The one radiating danger and aggression. The one who is on the verge of charging the dance floor. As if he only needs the briefest and flimsiest excuse to throw me over his shoulder.
Except, we are not a thing.
Hungry eyes trying to devour the image of me won’t softenthattruth. All his fault, he's an antidote to the recklessness I'm trying out tonight.
I turn around, putting my back to the Camden representative’s front, telling myself I’ve got to ask for his name and put my energy into this interaction, not anything else. Resolutely, my ass searches for his dick. He cries out, and that propels me into dancing hard. I blot out Huan Li. Then, utterly unprepared for it, lips touch my neck and they are moistened!
Sure, I’m gyrating on his cock, but this… this is too much. Wet lips slopping my neck! It’s not good, especially since,checking my body, I’ve got no wetness or even pre-wetness down there. Awash in guilt, I pivot to stop when a mouth descends upon me?—
I'm pulling back, but Camden rep isn't seeing my denial. He's got his eye half-closed, so my grimace isn't exactly visible. I'm about to stomp on his foot when?—
Palms grab my waist, lifting me off the ground and into the air.
I’m dizzy.
Everything around me is moving away.
Then the confusion is over, and I understand the dance floor is getting smaller and why people are pointing. Huan has carted me over his shoulder. We are leaving now. Grinding over. Thrustage incomplete. Unknowingly, my eyes close, and when I open them…
We’re in the dusty alleyway. Noise has reduced drastically and now that Huan has put me down, he’s inching away.
Right.
Not happening.
I bump into his personal space and exclaim, “What’s the problem? You don’t want to grind pelvises so no one can grind pelvises with me?”
“I’m checking to see if you are sober enough, Ms. Chahal,” says Huan, his voice hoarse and low.
Bullshit. I fist my hand in his shirt. “Does my dancing bother you?”
He locks his hand on my forearm, keeping us separate. There is a storm raging on his face, and knowing him, we are seconds away from him conquering any sort of impulses tempting his body.
Not going to happen. “Do you want to know how his dick felt on my ass?”
Huan’s teeth come out.
My nipples press into his shirt. “It’s nice being with a man like that.”
“Don’t,” he threatens, narrowing his hard eyes.
“I think I should go back inside and get him.”
