I smile at her as she finally figures it out. “You don’t need to say anything, and I’m not asking you to choose, but I need you to know I’m here, I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to. Fuck everything else. Now dance with me to Elvis, my love.”
Bristol’s pretty hazel eyes flutter closed for a moment before she rests her cheek on my chest, and I swear, I take the first full breath I’ve had all night.This. This is how it’s supposed to be. Her head fits under my shoulder, close enough that I feel the warmth of her breath against my collarbone. I let my eyes fall closed for half a heartbeat, allowing myself to imagine, for just a single moment, that she’s wholly mine. That there isn’t some other man in the picture that can take her from me.
Bristol and I slow dance to the song I’ve dedicated to her, and I get lost in her sweet scent—vanilla and slightly floral—and the feeling of her wrapped in my arms. I hold her as if she’s something to cherish, precious and perfect, because that’s exactly what she is.
Her body sways with mine, and I do my best to memorize all of it—the scent of her hair, the way her fingers seem to curl slightly into my jacket, as if she’s looking for more.
I try to ignore the massive diamond sparkling on her left hand, reminding myself that there’s a reason she’s dancing with me like this and not him. I stay present, the world disappearing around us as we lose ourselves to the bittersweet closeness that’s almost enough to hurt.
My thumb rubs the top of her hand, smoothing over the soft skin, wishing I could get closer, but knowing loving her like this right now is as close as I can be. I don’t want it to ever end.
I’d do anything to keep her right here.
“Who the fuck are you?” a voice, low and pissed off, hisses from behind me as he grips my shoulder, forcing me to turn, popping the bubble that we’re in. I keep Bristol tucked into me, wanting to protect her from whatever the hell is about to go down.
We come face-to-face with the same dickweed who was pawing at her earlier. The worthless fiancé. Blake.
“A friend of Bristol’s. You the fiancé?” He grips her tightly around the waist as he pulls her out of my arms, her face pinching in pain. My molars grind together, my hands balling into fists. Bristol looks at me and shakes her head briefly, and that’s the only goddamn thing saving him right now.
But when he turns on her, all bets are off, and I see red. My rage is barely contained.
“Thought you didn’t like to be called a whore, Bristol? How about not acting like one then. These are my goddamn employers, coworkers, and the people they work with?—”
Did he just call her a whore? If he wasn’t going to be a dead man before, he fucking is now. Stepping into their space, I lean down so Bristol can hear my words. Her face is crumpled, hurt, and shock is etched into her pretty features.
“Do you want to leave? You don’t have to stay here.”
Her eyes bounce back and forth between my own before she nods. That’s all I need to know.
“We’re leaving, I’m taking her home.”
“The fuck you are. I don’t know who you think you are, but she belongs to me, and she’s going to stay where I am.”
Like hell she is. Bristol looks pained, and I fucking hate it.
“You can’t tell by the look in her eyes that she’s uncomfortable? That she’d rather the floor open up and swallow her whole than be here? That’s why I’m taking her out of here. Her comfort matters more than all of this fake bullshit.”
“Like I said, asshole, she’s not leaving until I’m ready to.”
He’s not fucking getting it. I lean into his space, making it look like I’m patting his bicep, but really, I’m digging my fingers hard into his flesh, jerking him slightly closer so he can hear the lethality in my words as I grind them out.
“You sure you want to cause a scene, buddy? Cause I promise you there’s only one way it’ll end, and it’ll be with you bleeding out on the floor. Now smile and say goodnight to her. I’ll make sure she gets home safely.” I release him and nod at Bristol, who’s standing there frozen, wringing her hands together so hard the skin has turned practically white. Fuck him for bringing her here. Fuck him for not putting her comfort above his own selfish need. Fuck him for the way he talks to her.
“Bristol, darling, you look exhausted. Why don’t you head home, and I’ll meet you there after the event.”
Bristol looks from me to Blake and back again, her mind clearly warring with what to do now. To help her out, I offer my hand, knowing she’ll take it willingly. Once I’ve got her, feeling better knowing I’m getting her out of here, I lean in one more time to Blake.
“Good boy,” I whisper low enough for only him to hear. “And if you ever call her a whore or insinuate that she’s a whore again, I’ll cut out your fucking tongue and feed it to you in pieces. I dare you to try me. You wouldn’t be the first to find out I’m not bluffing.”
The moment we’re outside,I lean down and scoop her up bridal-style in my arms. Bristol gives a little screech, her arm wrapping around my neck.
“What are you doing?”
“You said you hate heels, so I’m not going to let you walk any farther in them tonight.”
“Rhys, that’s ridiculous! I’m fine!”
“You don’t think I noticed how you winced when you took a step? You think I’m just going to be okay with letting you be in pain when it’s a simple fix? We’re almost to my truck, anyway.” Bristol doesn’t argue, but I can feel the heat of her stare on the side of my face. She feels incredible in my arms, her thighs resting on my forearms, her body against my chest. My fingers itch to dig into her flesh, to feel every inch of her.
