Chapter Nine #3
He’s not the knight I was expecting to ride in and save me from this night, but he’ll do.
He’s tall and lean but also has a bit of bulk to him, like he spends hours at the gym just to stay that perfect kind of fit.
He’s a bit older than me, maybe in his mid-thirties with a face that’s almost handsome if you block out his slightly crooked nose and the right eyebrow that’s a few centimeters higher than the other.
His eyes are a deep, penetrating blue, and he has a carelessly strong jawline that’s heavy on the stubble, especially around his goatee.
Faded denim clings to his thighs, worn in all the right places, and tucked into brown boots that are scuffed at the toes like they’ve seen more bars than dance floors.
The way his shirt hangs open shows off a few American flag tattoos that parade up and down his bicep with country pride.
I’ve decided I like tattoos even though Wesley has them too.
Those big, blue eyes watch me with great fascination, lingering when they shouldn’t, tracking my movements like he’s mapping the exits without realizing he’s doing it.
Up close, there’s nothing visibly wrong with him, and that’s the unsettling part.
Because he looks like a man you’d laugh with. A man you’d flirt with. A man you wouldn’t clock as dangerous until he’s already standing too close, and by then, it’s too late.
“Hey there, darlin’,” he drawls out, the country accent almost addicting.
The buzz under my skin is supercharged tonight. Like every pump of blood is aroused and ready for something more—something I’m not quite sure I can give.
But I push those thoughts aside.
I need him for personal reasons.
Wesley reasons.
He has his boot kicked back up on the wall, hands crossed over his chest, those light eyes perusing every inch of me as a thick portion of bangs drapes over them, casting his face in shadows.
He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps looking me over, waiting for me to initiate our next move.
“Well,” I murmur, a bit too tipsy for my liking, “are you gonna say something?”
He grins, showing off his teeth that are slightly yellow. “I think we had a moment back there.”
I laugh, knowing whatever moment he thought we had, it was all in his head. Did we make eye contact? Yes. Did it mean more than just eye contact? Not until right now.
But despite everything, I lean closer, goading him on.
“Did we?” My fingers skim over my hair, twirling a piece of it as I tilt my head ever so slightly.
It’s a practiced move I haven’t used in years, but it seems to be working.
I let my gaze drop to his mouth, then lift it back up slowly, smirking when he wets his lips. “Guess I must’ve missed it.”
He moves across the hall, his confidence growing. “It’s hard to miss a woman like you.”
Good. Let him think that.
I step closer, invading his space until I can smell his cologne, that earthy, woodsy smell that normally brings me to my knees. “Funny,” I whisper. “There’s someone in this bar who could learn a thing or two from you.”
The words slip out without warning. I’m trying to block Wesley from my head, not let him waltz back in to mess with me.
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
“Does it really matter?”
He shakes his head. “Only if it doesn’t matter to you.”
Now I can smell the alcohol on his breath, the sweet hint of sin and gin that toys with his tongue. It’s a playful mixture that draws me in closer.
He touches my hip and I don’t stop him. That’s on me.
Then his grip tightens just a little, like he’s claiming me but doesn’t have my permission.
The drug surging through my veins screams for more, and before I can stop myself, my lips are on his, begging for attention, needing him to erase my Wesley-filled thoughts.
He pressures me against the wall, hand gripping my hip possessively, pinning me in place so I can’t fight back.
I try to pull away, but he stops me, his kiss coming in harder and punishing.
“Don’t,” I breathe against his lips.
His hand works its way up my thigh, then settles on my breast, squeezing it hard.
This isn’t what I want.
“Stop it,” I say with less strength than I have.
He frowns. “Relax, darlin’. We’re just getting to the good part.”
His hand manhandles my breast again, and I snap, ripping it away.
“I said, don’t touch me.” My voice cracks, the sweet flirtation gone and replaced by something bitter and terrifying. I try to step back, but he has me pinned against the wall, boxed in by his arms, my heart hammering inside my chest like it’s building a frame.
His expression sours. The charm drains out of him like someone pulled a plug.
“I don’t like it when girls tease me like that,” he growls, stepping forward again.
“You don’t get to wind me up and then shoot me down.
Let’s not play around here. We’re both adults.
You want it. I want it. So, let’s get it done.
” He grabs me by the arm again, and I freeze.
“Please, let me go,” I beg, trying to push him backward. We’re all alone in this hallway. Nobody’s really paying attention. In all honesty, he can push me back into the bathroom and do whatever he wants to me, and no one would see.
Damn it, Poppy. Why do you do this to yourself?
He grips my throat, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, darlin’. Either way, I’m gonna know what your mouth feels like on my dick tonight.”
Wesley’s voice hits the hallway like a gunshot. “If you want to keep those fucking hands, I suggest you let go of her.”
The guy sneers in Wesley’s direction, his hand quickly dropping to his side. “This ain’t your business.”
Wesley inches forward, fists clenched, ready to prove him wrong. “Everything about her is my business, asshole.”
My heart soars at the thought.
Stupid heart.
The guy’s jaw tightens, eyes flicking between us, then he laughs bitterly. “She should learn to not flirt if she doesn’t want it.”
Wesley doesn’t move. “Well, you should learn to stop touching a woman after she says no.”
The man abruptly turns, facing Wesley with pure vengeance in his eyes. “Didn’t I see you tongue fucking that hot little redhead on the dance floor? Why don’t you go bother her and leave me and the library girl alone?” He grabs me by the waist, making me screech.
The second it leaves my mouth, I know I’ve messed up, because Wesley springs into action, tearing across the hallway until the guy is grabbed by the collar and thrown against the wall.
“You motherfucker!” the guy shouts, rushing at Wesley until he’s tackled him to the ground.
A punch is thrown.
Then another.
It’s a flurry of fists I can’t keep up with.
Who’s winning? I have no idea.
“Wesley, it’s okay, you can stop hitting him.”
It’s too late.
The Wesley that likes a good fight has taken over, that black veil settling over his eyes, every hit urging him on more and more.
“Listen to the girl before it’s too late,” the guy drawls out, blood dripping from his lips and onto his yellow teeth.
Wesley somehow jumps to his feet, fists still curled and waiting.
“Go the fuck home,” Wesley growls.
“Not until I feel that bitch’s lips over my dick.” He staggers to his feet, wiping at the blood on his lips.
Damn, this is gonna be bad.
Wesley surges forward without warning, like a rocket being launched into orbit. He grabs the guy by the waist and sends him flying. He goes skidding across the floor just as the crowd erupts into terrified screams.
The man never stood a chance. People move as Wesley marches across the room, his boots echoing after the suddenly cut off music. His murderous gaze is focused on one person… the guy scrambling to his feet, just below the table where Amber and Eddie are sitting.
The man barely regains balance before Wesley cocks back and nails him right in the nose, fixing it back into place, but also breaking it in the process. He stumbles into a nearby table, blood gushing from his nose like lava burbling out of a volcano.
I’m paralyzed in place, watching the horror show unfold.
This is all my fault.
The noise starts to dull, even though the crowd has started chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” over and over again, taking me back to prom night and everything ugly that came with it. I barely hear it. The haze surrounding me like a welcomed fog.
“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking murder you,” Wesley growls, voice feral with finality.
I reach out to grab Wesley but realize that I’m not close enough. Everything seems too damn far away. Especially him.
The guy spits blood onto the floor near Amber’s feet, and she recoils in disgust. He grins through split lips. “You seemed to be doing just fine for yourself, asshole. Why the fuck are you stepping in where you aren’t needed?”
The redhead from earlier slinks away, phone pressed to her ear, throwing daggers from her eyes as she passes me.
“Whore,” she hisses, hip checking me just a tad.
I’m too far gone to register it.
“Because I know exactly who the fuck you are,” Wesley barks, stepping forward again. “And if you ever touch my friend again, I’ll break more than your jaw.”
When did he break his jaw? So now the guy has a broken jaw and nose? Oof, this drug is making me feel woozy.
The man gets in a solid hit, cracking Wesley in the cheek, but barely budging him. Wesley scrubs at his jaw, then sumo’s him to the ground. The guy’s head hits the hardwood floor so hard it sounds empty. Then he just starts swinging, making sure each punch counts.
More blood.
It’s everywhere.
On his knuckles,
On their faces.
If Wesley doesn’t stop, he’s going to be arrested.
“Wesley, stop!” I finally scream just as security rushes in. It takes four of them to pull Wesley off the guy; the man’s face is barely recognizable now.
“Get the fuck off me,” he shouts, the veil of black fading from his eyes and returning to that familiar blue.