I forced a polite smile. “I’m just getting some air.”
He stepped closer. Too close. His gaze crawled over me like a bug.
“Air’s better with company,” he said, closing the distance.
“I’m okay, thanks,” I replied, trying to shift sideways to step around him.
But he moved with me, blocking my path. My stomach tightened.
“C’mon,” he said, reaching for my arm. “Don’t be like that.”
I jerked away instantly. “I said I’m okay.”
His expression hardened.
“Oh, I think you’ll change your mind.”
Before I could react, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was rough, pain shooting up my arm immediately.
“Let go of me!”
He tugged me toward him, his breath hot and sour with alcohol.
“Relax,” he slurred. “You’ll like it.”
“I promise you I won’t,” I snapped, trying to yank my arm free. “And judging by the way you’re swaying, I’m guessing you couldn’t get your dick up even if you tried.”
His eyes flashed with anger.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“You heard me,” I shot back, my heart racing but my mouth apparently having no survival instinct. “Maybe go sleep it off before you embarrass yourself.”
His grip tightened painfully around my wrist.
“You think you’re funny?” he growled.
“No,” I said flatly. “I think you’re drunk, pathetic, and about two seconds away from getting arrested if you don’t let go of me.”
He laughed harshly.
“Ain’t nobody around to arrest me, sweetheart.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I noticed. Which is probably the only reason you’re brave enough to try this.”
His jaw clenched.
“You got a mouth on you,” he said darkly.
“And you’ve got whiskey dick written all over your face.”
His hand shot out again, grabbing my other arm.
My back slammed against the side of the building, the breath rushing out of my lungs.
“Relax,” he slurred again, leaning closer. “You’ll like it.”
“Trust me,” I shot back, trying to twist away, “if you’re the best this place has to offer, I’ll pass.”
