Chapter 2 #2
He pulls me into a headlock, ruffling my hair. I hate it when he does that. “Because you love me, Ashton Black.”
“Yeah, like a hole in the head.”
I’m so engrossed in watching her dance as we leave, I don’t even realize Grayson has stopped walking until I bump into his back.
“Shit’s about to get real,” I hear him mumble as some douche approaches sweet-thing from behind, running his filthy hands over her outer thighs. That one movement has adrenalin coursing through my veins.
What was she thinking, wearing a dress like that? It was only going to attract trouble, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to simply stand here and watch some fucker touch her in that way.
His hands snake around her tiny waist, but she manages to free herself from his grip before he takes a firm hold.
I grin when she turns around and pushes on his chest. There’s a scowl on her face, and it reminds me of the one I got when I knocked the donut from her hand this morning.
I can’t hear what she’s saying from here, but by the movement of her lips, I’m pretty sure she told him to keep his hands off.
The fucker’s obviously hard of hearing because he grabs hold of her arm, yanking her body flush with his, and I see red.
Literally.
“I’ve got your back, bro,” I hear Grayson say from behind me as I stalk across the dance floor.
Gripping the collar of his shirt, I drag him backward. The sudden movement makes him stumble, and he falls, landing on the wooden floor with a thud. His angry eyes lock with mine as he gets to his feet and charges at me.
It’s going to be like that, is it?
Bring it on, buddy.
I’m not the type of guy who goes looking for a fight, but someone needs to teach this prick some manners.
I anchor my feet to the floor as he comes in low, his shoulder striking me in the gut.
I stagger back a few steps from the impact.
It knocks the wind out of me, but I’m too fired up to care.
I swoop toward him, my fists already balled.
He swings a punch in my direction, but I lean back enough for it not to connect.
My right hook hits him in the side of the face before he even sees it coming.
It’s followed by an uppercut with my left, which lands square on his jaw.
I hear some of the ladies around us scream as a few bystanders get in between us to break it up before it escalates. I just stand there, breathing rapidly. My blood is pumping through my body at an alarming rate.
Swinging around, I face sweet-thing.
Her eyes are wide as they lock with mine.
The crowd around us goes back to dancing as I close the distance separating us.
I reach for her hand, leading her off the dance floor.
She doesn’t protest or try to free herself from my death grip.
I’m thankful because I’m in no mood for her shit.
If I had to throw her over my damn shoulder, I would have.
But then her ass would’ve been on display for the entire club to see.
When we’re away from the noise, I push her up against the wall, caging her in with my arms. “What the hell were you thinking wearing that dress here?” I scowl.
It’s the first time I’ve gotten a close look at her face. She’s wearing makeup. She wasn’t wearing any this morning, and she looks good—different, sexy—but I think I prefer her without it. She has a natural beauty and doesn’t need to wear that shit on her face.
Her long hair is down, cascading over her shoulders in soft curls, and her plump lips are painted a deep red, matching her dress. I ache to taste them and hate myself for wanting to.
Remember your rules, Black.
No kissing on the mouth.
“What the hell was I thinking?” she squeaks, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You just attacked my… my date.”
“Your date?” I scoff, arching an eyebrow. I know damn well he isn’t her date. She came here with her friend, just the two of them.
“Yes,” she retorts, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin slightly. “Thanks a lot. I never picked you for a cock-blocker.”
I chuckle. I can’t help but be amused by her comment. “He wasn’t your date, sweet-thing. Don’t lie to me.”
After a brief pause, she blows out a frustrated breath. “Okay, so maybe he wasn’t, but he could’ve been. For all I know, you just scared away my future husband.”
“His hands were all over you, and we both know you can get a whole lot better than him.”
“So, why do you even care?”
“I don’t care, but you’re only asking for trouble coming here dressed like that.”
“How I dress is none of your business, Mr. Bossy-boots.”
She’s right, it isn’t.
I shrug out of my jacket, passing it to her. “Put this on.” My request comes across as more of a demand.
“No!” She shoves it back into my chest.
“Don’t push me, sweet-thing.”
“My name is Emma… not sweet-thing, and not sweetheart, or babe for that matter.”
Emma, it’s a pretty name. It suits her.
“My bad. Don’t push me, Em,” I repeat, giving her a look that dares her to defy me again.
Huffing, she begrudgingly slides one of her arms into my jacket, followed by the other.
Good girl.
When she dips her head, though, she mumbles something under her breath
I tip her chin, raising her eyes back to mine. “I missed that, Em. Did you say something?”
“I said, you’re an asshole. Who died and made you my keeper?” She has no idea how significant that statement is. “And it’s Emma, not Em. Only my friends get to call me Em, and we’re definitely not friends.”
“We could be.”
“Not happening. Ever!”
“You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”
“And you’re an ass. An annoying, bossy ass.” Her palms flatten against my chest as she tries to push me back, but I stand strong.
“Admit it, it turns you on. You like me bossing you around, don’t you?”
“You’re wrong,” she says, glaring at me.
“Your eyes may say that,” I reply as my gaze darts to her chest, “but your hardened nipples that are poking through that ridiculous excuse for a dress tell me something entirely different.”
She gasps, grabbing the lapels of my jacket and crossing them over her chest. She has no idea how entertaining she is.
I inch my face closer to hers.
She draws her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes dart to my mouth. Oh, I know that look well.
Be careful what you wish for, sweet-thing.
Her sugary vanilla scent invades all my senses, and my cock starts to harden just from our closeness. My heart thumps against my ribcage, and I can hear her breath coming in short, sporadic spurts.
Run, Black, run!
But I can’t.
Like her, my head is saying one thing, but my body doesn’t seem to be cooperating.
Before it even registers, I press my lips to hers, our mouths softly touching.
She doesn’t give me an inch, not with her tongue or a move to pull me closer.
I don’t budge, nevertheless. We remain unmoving, neither of us breaking the connection.
She makes my body feel alive… like there are damn live wires under my skin. It feels so right, yet overwhelmingly wrong at the same time.
I’m playing with fire, but fuck me at this moment if I don’t want to get burned.