I ignore him, but then the other one calls out, “Model Girl, what’s your name?” in a flirty tone.
“Let her go.” Dylan’s tone turns hard, and he pulls me into his side.
He steps forward with his arm around me and tries to put me behind him as he goes to push through the paparazzi, but two of the cameramen block his path.
The men crowd in tighter, and one puts his camera right into Dylan’s face.
“Who is she?” he demands. “Who’s the Model Girl?”
Dylan puts his hand out to block the lens, but the paparazzo just laughs. “Come on, Dylan. You always give us what we want. Just a quick comment. Who’s the girl?”
“Hey!”
Dylan and the cameraman both turn at the angry sound of my voice.
“Sir. Back. Off. Us. Now.” I measure my words so they come out slowly in warning.
The paparazzo laughs harder and shifts his camera lens to me. “Or what, little girl? What are you gonna do about it?”
Dylan grabs my arm. “She’s not doing anything,” he says with a warning look at me.
Oh, I am so doing something. And I know exactly what. I step forward as if I’m going to leave. One of the cameramen instantly follows on my right side. I pause, almost involuntarily, like his energy can stop me in my tracks. He thinks he’s getting to me, and I sense his confidence rising as he closes in. I wait until he gets far closer than is comfortable, until his hand reaches out to grab me.
Without turning toward him, I stick out my right foot. His legs go out from under him, and he lands on his ass on the grassy patch by the concrete. The entire exchange takes less than ten seconds.
The other guys burst out laughing, and one calls out that I just showed him who’s boss. I look back over my shoulder at Dylan.
“Ready?” I say.
His eyes are wide as he looks at me in stunned silence.
I put out my hand, and he takes it.
Chapter Nine
We head down the street and don’t stop until we’ve reached the safety of the hotel lobby. Dylan hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I swallow again, and my stomach drops into my—well, parts of me that have never been this turned on before.
“Where in the hell did you learn to do that?” His gaze is so heated I feel like I’m going to burst into flames.
“I’m so sorry I lost my temper like that. I have a tendency to fall back on bad habits when I’m cornered. The streets taught me a lot.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut around him?
“What?”
He hustles after me as I turn abruptly and head for the elevator bank.
“Jasalie. You’ve lived on the streets?”
I press the up button and don’t look over at him. “Just briefly. No big deal. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry I pushed.” He steps back from me, but I see the hurt on his face. “It’s none of my business.”
A pang of guilt cuts through me. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
“You’re not. You’re just more similar to me than I realized.” His dimples flash.
“How so?”
