by Layla Frost
Becca and her new dance partner disappear as my phone vibrates. I unlock my screen and see that Donny will be here in five minutes, but I don’t have a chance to respond when I feel a hand on my bicep, stronger this time.
Looking up, I try to pull away but his grip tightens. I see those perfect teeth inside a fake smile and it makes my insides turn. “We should go hang with your friends, sweetheart.”
“Let go,” I demand.
He doesn’t do as I ask and gives me a pull. “Loosen up. Your friends are all on the dance floor.”
Fuck. My dull buzz has disintegrated and I grip my phone with all my might. Planting my feet, I pull my arm back but, just when I’m about to take control of the situation, I feel a large, warm hand on the small of my back. I jerk and flip my head around just in time to see a tattooed forearm snake around me. It’s so close, I can see the ring of the beautiful inked compass right before his hand turns into a vice on Blondie’s arm.
“She’s with me.”
When I look up, I see deep, dark eyes void of all emotion looking over my head at the same time Blondie lets go of me. Eli, the designated driver, whom I found to be a challenge just minutes ago, wraps his hand around my hip and pulls my back to his front.
From this angle, I have multiple choices to get out of his hold. If I wanted to.
That’s a big if.
Because for some reason, I feel safer pretending I’m Eli’s rather than having creepy blond guy vie for my attention. And with the way Blondie’s glaring at me right now, I’ll do everything I can to get away from him.
The blond gestures to Eli but says to me, “I’ve watched you for an hour and you’ve not so much as talked to any man—let alone this guy.”
I slip my phone into my back pocket. “Well, he pissed me off earlier, but here we are.” I look up at Eli who, for the first time since I laid eyes on him, has a smirk playing in a corner of his mouth and I yell over the music, “Let’s go.”
I take his hand and pull him away from our spot at the bar, but more importantly, away from the man who almost got clocked on the underside of his nose. I’ve got an iPhone with a case as strong as a bullet and I know how to use it. He might look pissed off as I walk away with my politically incorrect new friend, but he has no idea he most likely just dodged a broken nose.
That would’ve messed up his pretty, perfect face.
I have no idea where I’m going besides away from where we were, but I feel Eli’s grip on my hand tighten as we go. Since the place is still packed, I stop at the edge of the dancefloor and turn to look up at him.
“Thank you,” I yell over the hum of the crowd.
He’s back to stoic and shrugs. He leans down and I feel his lips next to my ear. “The guy was an ass.”
I nod and just when I’m about to agree with his assessment, the DJ booms over the speakers, doing his job to get the crowd riled and excited because, all of a sudden, we’re not on the edge of the dance floor anymore. We’re swallowed by bodies when the beat of the music changes. The decibel increases and the energy of the crowd that was already off the charts, hits another level altogether.
People start to move, some holding their drinks high, others using both hands to do exactly what the song states, exploring their partner, as Ed Sheeran croons on about clubs, dancing, and lovers.
I find myself pressed between strangers whose names I don’t know and another I only know as Eli. My friends are nowhere to be seen, but the masses around us start to move and I feel hands on my hips steadying me. Holding me tight, Eli stands tall in the crowd and scans the area around us before catching my eyes again. The lights disappear other than strobes that spark to the beat of the music.
When I look into his darkened features, he says nothing, but he tips his head and cocks a brow.
An invitation.
A silent one, but still, an invitation all the same.
No way would I ever dance with creepy blond guy—but Eli? The new-to-town, responsible man who stopped drinking to make sure his friends get home safely with the fascinating tattoo? Yeah, I can stay for one more song for him.
My only answer to his silent bidding is to bring my hands up to cover his that are still low on my hips and let the music take over. I might have started it by the sway of my hips under his big hands, but that was all it took.
After that, it was all him.
Pulling me tight, every muscle of his body moves with mine, from my shoulders to my knees. And every inch of him is lean and rock hard and warm.
No. Not warm.
Hot.
His hands start to move, one holding me tight at the small of my back and the other snaking up to twist my hair in his fist, forcing me to tip my head and look into his rugged dark features. From this close, his strong, stubbled jaw is in line with my eyes, and my already-heated body is sent into overdrive when his tongue sneaks out to wet his full lips.
Holy fuck.
I exhale a whoosh of air. That must have gotten his attention, because his eyes jump to mine right before he pulls me closer. The side of my face is pressed into his neck and his breath is warm on my temple as Ed sings on, his words and music impossibly sexier than I ever realized while in the arms of a stranger named Eli.
Just as I start to drag my hands up his body, feeling his abs and wide chest through his thin tee, his hand drops to my ass for a quick squeeze before he spins me, holding my back to his front once again. But now, I feel all of him, his hands tight on my hips and his face dips, pressing into my hair. I let my head fall back onto his shoulder when his groin moves against my lower back and ass. His hand comes around my waist and dips under the hem of my blouse to tease my bare skin, it’s all I can do not to give him my weight.
In all my thirty years, I’ve never experienced a sexier four minutes in my life. At this moment, I think I’d do anything he asked as long as he never stopped touching me.
My body is buzzing in a whole new way—a better way. An off-the-charts way.
But all good things end. They always do.
It’s seems to be the fucking rule of my life because just as the song is winding down, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.
Like a bucket of ice water, the warm body encasing mine stills. As if an alarm woke me from an erotic dream filled only with music and a stranger, the tremor of my phone rocks us both out of the moment. My dance partner stills for a nanosecond before his hands tense on me and just like that, I lose his heat.
He lets go of me and I have to catch myself on my wedges from the loss of his support. I turn to look at him and what I see is not what I expect.
His expression is hard and he’s glaring as if I’ve committed a crime—a terrible one, at that.
I try to catch my breath and he brings his hand up to roughly grip the back of his neck, his glare intensifies which makes my insides tighten. Dammit, I’m always in control—of myself and most definitely my emotions. I almost jump when my ass vibrates again and I hate myself for feeling rejected after only one dance with a stranger.
Even though it’s a stranger named Eli, he certainly doesn’t feel like it. He feels like anything but.
I make myself look down at my phone. It’s a message from Donny. He’s here, waiting for me, double parked at the front door. Just like always, he said he’d be there waiting until I was ready.
Reaching up, I tuck my hair behind my ear and hate that my face is probably flushed more from his touch than the heat of the crowd. When I sneak one last look, hoping for some explanation of his sudden change in demeanor, I find the same stormy dark eyes.
Wanting nothing more than to escape, I don’t even take the time to find my friends. It’s late. I’ll send Donny back for them. Waving my cell lamely, I mutter, “My ride is here.”
I don’t want to touch him again, but I have no choice since he’s standing between me and my much-needed exit. Putting my hand to his wide chest, I give the guy a decent shove and he shifts, forcing me to brush by him as I muster up all my conf
idences to walk with purpose.
And I do.
I walk away. It was only four fucking minutes. I know nothing about him and he hardly spoke a handful of words even if he did rescue Mr. Blondie from breaking his nose that would have meant blood.
So maybe he saved me.
No. I would’ve been fine. Eli was a convenient, yet sexy, excuse to escape from an asshole, and I took it. It just sucks Eli the stranger turned out to be an ass, too.
I push through the front doors and just like he said he would be, Donny is standing beside our black Escalade. He’s worked for my family for years and since he’s good at his job, his eyes are on me before I even spot him. He does all kinds of things for Montgomery Industries and on the ranch for my dad. On nights like tonight he’s not only a driver, and not that we normally need it, but also security.
Right now, I’m more grateful for him than ever.
He holds the back-passenger door open for me as I hurry to him, cars trying to make their way around the double-parked SUV.
As I take his hand, climbing up into the back, he asks, “You okay, Jenny? Where’re the others?”
“I’m fine. Just tired and too old for this. Do you mind coming back for them?”
Donny, who’s in his late forties with a full head of beautiful peppered-gray hair, smiles. “Don’t you worry. I’ll get them home safe and sound.”
I sink into the leather seat and reach for my seatbelt. My adrenaline crashing, I’m suddenly exhausted and can’t even muster a small smile for one of my favorite people. “Thanks.”
He shuts my door and when he moves to walk around the back, my eyes dart to the sidewalk where Eli has appeared. It’s like night and day seeing him under the bright streetlight, but it doesn’t change a thing. Even though I know he can’t see me through the dark tinted windows, it feels as if he’s staring straight into my soul when he runs a hand roughly down his face before closing his eyes.
“Traffic isn’t bad. We should be to your place in less than ten minutes.” Donny slides behind the driver’s seat and I hear the turn signal as he waits to merge.
“Thank you.” My manners, ingrained into me by Hattie Montgomery, are on autopilot and probably sound disingenuous because I can’t take my eyes off Eli.
As Donny pulls away, Eli throws his tattooed arm down and even though I can’t hear it from inside the sound proof Cadillac, the last thing I see is the word fuck tumbling angrily from his lips.
The same lips that brushed my hair, my skin, and hummed into my ear on the makeshift dance floor.
Then, he’s gone.
And for someone who manages millions on a daily basis and deals with some of the shrewdest men in the business, I find myself feeling … alone.
What the fuck?
That’s when I decide—I’m never going out again.