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A couple of guys try to dance, and I’m happily entertained until one of them tries to wrap his hands around my waist. He smells nice and is quite masculine with toned arms. When he rubs his crotch into my ass, the nagging voice in my head tells me I need to intervene quickly, yet my motor skills are sluggish. As I am about to politely tell him to back off, I’m yanked in a different direction, almost tripping in my heels.
My chest is up against Will’s, the burn in his eyes piercing me like an animal ready to attack its enemy. Deep blue eyes hold me captive until I’m finally able to break away. He’s still in his work attire—dress pants with a matching dark gray jacket and a white business shirt beneath it. The top two buttons are undone and there’s no formal tie as his chest is slightly exposed. Why are you even looking, Amelia?
“What are you doing here?”
“It seems that our conversation made me believe you weren’t responsible enough to be at this club.”
“Me? It shows how little you know about me.”
“If you’re so willing to lie to your dad…”
“Why are you so hung up on that? Surely, you have more important things to do than taunt me with matters that are still none of your business!”
I have no idea why he suddenly has to act so macho, and what’s with all the my dad talk? It’s been frustrating, to say the least. The point of me moving here was to gain some freedom, all of which seems impossible if Mr. Asshole follows me wherever I go.
“We’re going,” he demands, nostrils flaring.
“Let me go!” I tell him. “You’re such an ass, and besides, it’s my birthday.”
“An ass who’ll save your life tonight. And happy birthday.”
“Really, save my life?” I laugh, pointing my finger into his chest. “Are you going to tattle- tale to dear old daddy? Or better yet, follow me to my bedroom. How about the shower? You want to see me there?”
His face tightens, the skin bunching around his eyes like he’s suffering for being seen with me. Perhaps there’s some truth to what Andy said—I played it too safe for too long now.
I grab his hand, pulling him back onto the dance floor to torment him as I dance around where he stands, swaying my body, bucking my hips, laughing as I do while he remains perfectly still.
“What’s wrong?” I pout, throwing my hands around his neck. “Is it possible that Will Romano does not know how to have fun?”
He rests his hands on my hips, the sudden jolt of his touch sending this odd feeling throughout me. I’ve never felt this before, and quite possibly, the alcohol has everything to do with it.
“You need to calm down,” he sternly warns me.
“What for? I’m an adult now. Just admit it, you’re jealous because your whole life revolves around work and chasing your assistant’s pussy,” I blurt out, laughing. “I’m surprised you’re even here, unless, of course, you’re looking to get laid by someone here.”
I scan the room until I realize my hands are still on him, and his are still on me. Raising my eyes to meet his, there’s an odd stare as his gaze falls onto my lips. Taking a deep breath, he focuses back on my eyes. “We need to leave or else…”
“Or else what? What exactly will go wrong?”
Will shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips. I let go of him, almost pushing him away in annoyance until he pulls me back into him and our bodies are flush. My mind is playing tricks, watching his gaze fall toward my chest, the slight flick of his tongue. I place my hands on his chest, pressing forward only to be distracted by something hard between us. Of fuck, that’s not what I think it is because this is all types of wrong.
He leans his head in, his breath against my ear. “You need to behave and stop rubbing yourself on my cock, or this won’t end well for both of us.”
I pull away, distancing myself until he latches onto my wrist, pulling me through the crowd until the cold air hits my face, and we’re standing outside on the pavement.
“I’m taking you home,” he grits, nostrils flaring.
“In case you’ve forgotten,” I say, a slight hiccup escaping. “My home is in New Haven, not here.”
“I’m taking you back to my place.”
He doesn’t say another word amid sudden anger, hailing a cab and shoving me inside. I begin to argue, though the more I argue, the more my head spins.
“Give me your phone?” Will demands without reason.
“Wh… why?”
“So I can text your friend to let her know you came home with me and you’re okay. What’s her name?”
