A strong arm bands around my midsection, pulling me to his hard front, and my hands drop to his shoulders as I almost lose my balance. I look up at him through my lashes, the heels I’m wearing bring my eyes to his chin level, and I give him my prettiest fuck-you smile before I slide my palms to his hard chest to push him away, but he doesn’t budge.
“I need to talk to you.” He growls, his eyes narrowing at me.
We’re standing still on the dance floor, a battle of wills dancing to music talking about playing with fire. I drop my gaze to his mouth and softly slide the tip of my finger across his bottom lip before I slowly blink my gaze back up to meet his stare, which has somehow got even darker with angeranddesire.
Slowly, I shake my head. “No.”
His fingers dig possessively into the skin over my ribs where he’s holding me. “Yes.”
The undeniable heat I feel when I’m close to him is wrapped around me, his scent invading my senses, and it’s pissing me off. My body and my mind are not on the same page because my body wants to melt into him, but my mind is envisioning scratching his eyes out.
Anger from earlier is bubbling over, and my heart is beating against my chest. The large amount of alcohol in my system isn’t helping me keep my wits. “I’m not a baseball, Special Agent.” I lift my foot and press my heel on the top of his foot.
Somewhere in my too-many-tequila-shots haze, I wonder if I just said I’m not a baseball out loud.
Apparently, the tactical boots he’s wearing are built to stand up to high heels. He cocks his brow at me and moves his lips next to my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver over my body. “I don’t think you’re a baseball, Kinley. Now, come with me so we can talk.” It’s more of an order than a request.
I try to wriggle away from him, but his arm is like a vice around my waist, his hand is on my ribs under the handkerchief of a top I’m wearing, and oh so close to my boob. His hard body is pressed to mine, I can almost feel the hard planes against me through his black button-up shirt, and I can feel my resolve crumbling as I clench my teeth. Pressing my palms against his chest, I try to get out of his hold. “Let go, I don’t want to talk to you.”
His gaze on me is hard, anger mixed with something else, something that is making my stomach flutter. “Now, Kinley. Easy way or hard way, you choose.”
I stop moving and tip my head to glare at him through narrowed eyes, pressing my lips into a tight line, his nose is just inches from mine. “You can’t make me talk to you, SpecialAgent.”
Tilting his head to glare at me, a spark of humor and determination in his eyes, he says, “Hard way, then.”
He steps back and bends in front of me with my arm in his hand. I flip upside down when he drapes me over his shoulder, like a bag of feed, and my hands slap onto his tight ass.
“Damn it, Rhys! Put me down!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RHYS
HER HANDSare beating my back, and I can hear her yelling my name, but I can’t make out what she’s saying over the loud music, however, the language is colorful, and I smile to myself. The clutch with the tiny strap she had tucked under her arm falls to the ground, and I lean down to grab it and keep walking.
Her fists are pummeling my backside, so I slap her pretty little ass, and she yelps. I drag my palm across the perfect globes, soothing the slap, and my cock jumps in my pants.
The dress she’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination, so I’m pissed that other men have been looking at her all night. The man who was touching her when I got here damn near lost his fucking hand.
When the agent who’s been watching her called and told me she was drinking too much and looked dressed to kill, Inearly wrecked three times driving here. Call me a fucking asshole, even if she thinks she’s free to do what she wants… she’s mine.
A bouncer steps in front of me as I walk to the front door, and I pull my badge out of my pocket and flash it. I also flash him a fuck-around-and-find-out look, and he puts his hands up and steps to the side.
I walk down the bright sidewalk next to the club toward the back until we are away from the club-goers who are outside smoking and talking in the parking lot and set her on her feet. She teeters like she’s obviously been drinking, so I grab her arms to keep her upright.
Her body is gorgeous in that dress, and I can’t stop my eyes from taking her in from head to toe. If I had a blanket, I would wrap it around her to stop every man in this fucking parking lot from looking at her perfect ass and imagining what it would be like to fuck her.
Because that’s what they’re fucking thinking. I won’t lie, I’ve been trying not to think about how she would feel wrapped around my dick since I bumped into her that first night. When I drove her home that night, and she put her foot on my dash to take off her shoes, my dick was hard just from looking at her perfect legs.
As soon as she is steady, her hand strikes across my face, leaving the skin stinging. “Fuck you, Rhys!”
Keeping my eyes locked on her, I nod. “I deserve that.”
She tries to grab her clutch from my hand, but I pull it out of reach to keep her in front of me. She won’t walk away without it. It doesn’t matter if she tries to walk away, I’ll stop her.
Her hazel eyes are swirling with anger and alcohol. “Give me my purse. I don’t want to talk to you.”
Holding her clutch over my head, she puts one hand on my shoulder for balance and tries to grab it again, but hertight little body only bumps into my front, her hand half a foot away from reaching her clutch even when she jumps.
